Page 77 of In Knots

“Simon!” Margo says, bouncing forward. He leans down to peck her cheek and shake Henry’s hand. “Do you see who it is, Alexa?” Margo says with excitement. “Simon.”

“Hi,” I say, squinting up at him, my voice sounding peculiar in my ears.

“Hey there beautiful.” He motions to Sophia who, with a roll of her eyes, lumbers to her feet and makes room for Simon to sit at the end of my sunlounger. I dash my legs out of the way before he lands on top of them.

“I’ll catch you later,” Sophia says, strolling away.

Simon leans into me and my spine stiffens so sharply I think it might snap. He grips my upper arm and pecks my cheek like he’d done Margo’s and I shudder, his scent already choking in my throat.

“Oh my gosh,” Margo squeals. “You two are so cute together. Like some Hollywood couple. Look at them, Henry. Don’t you agree?”

“Simon always was the best-looking chap in our school,” Henry says with what I think is a trace of bitterness.

“Had bad teeth though, didn’t I? Got those bad boys fixed in the states, though. He pulls back his lips so the others can admire his gleaming white dental work. “Cost me a small fortune mind you.” He chuckles and turns to look at me. “I’m guessing you were the most beautiful girl in your school.”

“Awww,” Margo croons, but I just stare at him. He chuckles.

“It’s hot,” he says, peering out from under the umbrella towards the bright sunlight. “Do you have sunblock on?”

“Oh my god, we’re covered in the stuff,” Margo says. “It’s so friggin’ hot.” She picks up her iced water and takes a sip, emphasising her point.

“Think I’d better put some on too,” Simon says, and helps himself to the bottle sitting on the low table between our loungers. He examines the bottle for a moment, shaking it, and then holds it out to me. “Would you mind putting some on my shoulders, sweetheart?”

I think I might vomit hearing that name on his lips. Sweetheart? Does he even really like me?

“Oh,” I say as sweetly as I can, “perhaps Margo would. I really need to powder my nose.”

He stares at me. He keeps his face neutral, but I see the flash of irritation in his eyes. I think I’m the only one who does. He’s got the charming act down to a fine art.

I force myself to meet that stare though, even as it sharpens, even as everything in my body strains to pull away, and it physically pains me to do it. I don’t break eye contact. I make myself do it. I’m stronger than he thinks.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t let him. I shuffle off the lounger and stride away into the house.

It’s cool indoors. I find the guest bathroom, locking the door behind me, and standing in front of the mirror. I can still feel where he touched me and my whole flesh seems to reek of his scent. I run the tap, cupping my hands under the glistening flow, and splashing water all over my face. My makeup, be damned. Then I pump at the soap dispenser until a pool of gel settles in the palm of my hand and scrub at my upper arm, at the point where he gripped me.

When I’m done, I pat my face and my arm dry with a towel, throwing it into the wastebasket and peer at my watch.

I want to go. I want to leave. Usually, I’d scurry away to the safety of my home. But I don’t want to go there either.

“You need to decide what the Hell you’re going to do, Alexa,” I tell my reflection. But she just stares back at me as clueless as I am, neither of us seeing a way out of this.

The wide hallway is empty when I step out of the bathroom, but as I turn the corner, Simon steps out from behind a pillar blocking my path.

I twist my hands together behind my back but try to keep the alarm from my face.

“I was wondering where you’d got to, little Omega.” His voice has lost that sickly sweetness from outside. Now it is low with a twist of unpleasantness. It suits him better.

“I think I told you where I was going.” I try to step around him, but he blocks my path, stepping in close to me. Instinctively, I hold my breath, not wanting his scent to slither down my throat.

“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of our friends, Omega?”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” I mutter.

He examines my face and I stare past him into the hallway.

“You know you pretend you’re like this perfect omega, all demure and well behaved, but I think you’re actually a spoiled little bitch.”

“I’m not pretending at anything.” Not like you, I think in my head.

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