Breaking Leila (20 page)

Matt’s mother
had married Charlie, the man I’d been involved with for years. It
wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair. Matt was supposed to know my dirty
secrets and want me nonetheless, but now I stared back at him–so
cute in his half-asleep state–and any hope that we could be
together evaporated.

Aidan had
warned me to watch out for baggage.

I’d never
expected it to be my own.

Chapter 9

Before I knew who Matt was, I still nurtured a hope that I
could be reformed. When I realized
 
what
 
he was, those hopes swelled to
porn star proportions. Oh, I desired him. He stood for everything a
girl like me didn’t deserve, and worse, he pierced himself and
urged me in until he bore the track lines of an addict. Though
never perfect–far from it, the boy was flawed–that lent him a
teasing vulnerability. I had a spare piece of the jigsaw and he had
an empty space.

I didn’t see
any harm in trying him on for size, so long as I didn’t cut him…but
the problem with being beneath his skin became obvious: I did so
much more damage there, and he held me so still in the fleshy cage
that Charlotte turned cannibal to tear her way out.

Even then,
though, the mess was nothing but a lubricant. A part of me didn’t
want to escape. Charlie had given me the reference for Bach and
Dagier, had made me this half-damned girl–he might as well have
dumped me on Matt’s doorstep. How could he not have warned me? How
many knives to take down a lead balloon?

* * * *

When I awoke,
Matt splayed over three quarters of the bed, still dressed and on
top of the covers. I clung to the edge beneath a scrap of duvet. I
didn’t remember him joining me, only shedding half my clothes and
passing out on the pillows. I had, for some reason, decided to
sleep in the corset. The sun spilled in between the curtains and
painted the four-postered shadows in gold.

I took a moment
to gather the remains of last night. Bruises stirred where Aidan
had been; adrenaline kissed them better.

I spent a while
languishing in the fantasy of waking Matt up with a blow job, of
hearing him groan in pleasure and the realization that he was being
sucked. How he might reach down and dig his fingers into my tousled
hair, how he’d watch me with sleepy eyes as that teasing smile
spread across his face…

Then I
remembered the picture of his brothers with Charlie from the rugby
fundraiser and my stomach lurched.

Maybe I should just get it over with? I could poke him a bit,
roll him over.
 
Good morning, darling. I used to fuck your stepdad. His cock,
I believe, was just slightly bigger than yours.

Hmm. Perhaps
not, then.

I nudged him
with my foot and he sprang up, eyes wide with terror.

“What the–” The
duvet pooled in his lap as I recoiled on the other side of the bed.
“Oh shit. Leila. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Bad dream?” I
said dryly.

“No…just not
used to waking up with anyone lately.” He glanced about, gaining
his bearings, and yawned. “What time is it?”

My phone winked
from the bedside table. “Half seven.”

“You’re a
masochist.”

“Seemed silly,
lying awake by myself. Anyway.” I poked him. “You weren’t meant to
be in here.”

“I was being a
gentleman and making sure you got to bed safely. It just seemed
like an awfully long way to Toby’s room. Besides, I was good…I
think.”

“You were,” I
grumbled.

“Sorry.” He
laughed and rolled back over.

“You can’t go
back to sleep. I want a proper tour of your country pile.”

“I showed you
around yesterday.”

“Not outside,
you didn’t. What the heck do you farm, anyway?”

“Root
vegetables, mostly. Big ones. I’d have showed you last night, but
was afraid that you’d ruin your knickers.”

I kicked him
under the duvet.

“All right, all
right.” Gangly legs swung out of the bed. “Just give me a minute to
get my head together.”

I wandered over
to my suitcase and grabbed an armful, wrapping a towel around my
waist. “I’m going to get a shower.”

“I’ll go back
to sleep, then. I know what women are like in showers.”

“You’re not a
morning person, are you?”

I was in and
out of the shower in about five minutes–partly because I remembered
I’d had two of them last night, and partly just to annoy Matt.

In revenge, he
dressed with comic slowness, getting surprisingly bashful when it
came to changing his boxers.

“How is it when
 
you
 
want to
watch
 
me
 
naked, it’s never this awkward?” I said.

“You naked is
sexy. Me naked is cold. And flaccid,” he added weakly.

“Is it
teeny?”

“You can sod
right off.”

I shook with
giggles as I put my hair up and he hurriedly pulled on a clean
pair.

We traipsed
down toward the noisy kitchen, where Radio 2 chattered in the
background and a sweet female voice sang along. I could smell the
bacon halfway up the stairs.

“Matt.” His dad
smiled over his newspaper. “Are you going to introduce us?”

“I’m Leila,” I
said quickly, stepping forward to shake his hand. The resemblance
between Matt and his father was striking–they had the same dark
hair and wide, watchful eyes. His dad had the better tan,
though.

“A proper
pleasure,” he said, with a handshake firm enough to cause
arthritis. The Gordon men knew how to grip a woman, one way or the
other.

“We’ve been
waiting to meet you ever since we heard you were coming,” said Amy
warmly, her plump hand on my arm. “Haven’t we, Nate?”

“Indeed,” he
muttered, going back to his paper.

“Matt, get
Leila a drink, will you? There’s fresh orange on the table and
coffee in the machine.”

I couldn’t help
but like Amy’s bossiness. It was comforting. I even had to stifle a
laugh at the way it made Matt scowl. Orange juice was poured before
he got to it, and we sank on to wooden chairs with floral
cushions.

“Did you two
enjoy yourselves last night?” said Amy. Eggs made an orange syrup
in her bowl.

“Yeah.” Matt
eyed me in silent warning. “How about you two?”

“Just the
usual. Good pies at the Swan at the moment,” said Nate.

“And
 
proper
 
chips!” Amy enthused as she scrambled the eggs. “They had
skins on and everything.” She leaned in to Matt as she passed.
“Your father made an awful joke about circumcision. You’d have
cringed.”

“I’m cringing
now,” he groaned, shaking his head.

So am I
, I mouthed.

Huge platters
of eggs, bacon and toast appeared in front of us. A bad pun about
protein wiggled its eyebrows at me and I ushered it away with a
wince.

“Get that down
you.” Amy patted my shoulder hard. “There’s fruity brown if you
want it, or ketchup.”

“Thanks.” I
reached for the butter.

Matt had
already smothered his in an avalanche of sauce. “Proper rugby
breakfast, this.”

“Are you going
to be tackling her later?” Nate asked innocently.

Matt put his head in his hands. “Dad,
 
please
!”

I blushed.
What, was I fourteen?

“You’ll
embarrass the pair of them,” Amy tutted. “They’re grown adults.
They can tackle whomever they like.”

“I don’t really
know rugby,” I said helplessly.

“You’ll have
lots of fun learning, I’m sure,” said Nate. It wasn’t hard to see
where the boys’ sense of humour came from.

We dug into our
breakfasts, letting the pop song on the radio fill the air. Amy
hummed to herself as she washed pans and made more coffee. The
atmosphere, despite Nate’s teasing, was pleasant. It reminded me of
weekend mornings with my own parents–except they were usually all
over each other by now.

When our plates
were clear, I thanked Amy again and followed Matt out into the
garden.

“I’m sorry
about that. I should have warned you.” He grimaced. “Dad’s always
making those sorts of jokes.”

“It’s okay.
Makes things interesting,” I said. “Amy is lovely.”

“She’s annoying
and overbearing.”

“You didn’t
even thank her for your breakfast.”

“No…I suppose I
didn’t.”

We were quiet
for a while, both stuffed with bacon and enjoying the mellow heat
of the morning.

I loved the
almost-silence here. A tractor buzzed somewhere in the distance and
birds bickered in the willow that swept over the pond. It was a
welcome contrast to the cacophony of London.

“Do you
honestly want to traipse around muddy veg fields?” Matt asked.

“I…well. No.
Not particularly. But out here is lovely.”

“We could do a
bit of scrumping in the orchard, if you like.”

I laughed. “Is
it really scrumping if it’s your farm?”

“Yep. Dad gave
us murder if he caught us in there.” He folded his arms. “Well,
except when we had stuffed our faces with plums. A few hours later,
it was its own punishment.”

“Eugh.”

“Plumishment,
we called it.” He chuckled.

I grabbed his
arm. “Come on then. Show me.”

The orchard
smelled like foliage and fresh earth. Majestic apple and plum trees
stretched out across the skyline, their shadows pouring over us in
murky light and cool air. I sank down beneath one and patted the
tufty grass beside me. Matt leaned back against the trunk,
stretching.

“What time do
we have to be at the wedding?” He yawned.

“Not until half
two.”

“We’ve got ages
yet. Long enough to go back to bed?” he asked hopefully.

I swatted him
and he grinned.

“Long enough to
tell me about all the things you promised yesterday,” I said.

“Leila. It’s
half nine in the morning. Hardly a good time to rehash a few years
of shit, don’t you think?”

“Nice day for
it, though.”

“Gah.” He blew
the hair from his face and laughed awkwardly. “You’re very
persistent.”

“So are
you.”

He shoved my
shoulder and I swayed, settling against him. Then he looked down at
me with sleep-glazed eyes. “Where shall I start?”

“Tell me about
Niamh.”

He swallowed.
“Well. Um. We went to school together–you know, same group of mates
and all that. We didn’t get together until uni, though.”

“Where did you
go to uni?”

“LSE.”

“I was at UCL.
We might have been neighbours before and not even known it.”

“Maybe.
Anyway…yeah. We got talking one night and realized we’d both liked
each other for ages. It got serious from the beginning. We were
obsessed.”

“That’s very
romantic.” I sighed. “I wish I’d had something like that.”

He pressed his
cheek against my hair, his fingertips circling the back of my hand.
“Maybe you will.”

“Tease. On with
the story, damnit.”

“Bossy cow.” He
watched the shadow of his fingers as it danced over my palm. “I
don’t really know what happened. It wasn’t sudden. But she wasn’t
happy with me staying in London when we graduated. I needed to stay
to keep an eye on Ike and Simmy–Mom had moved them up there with
cuntface–”

Charlie.

“–and me and
Tobe had to make sure they were okay. Couldn’t do that down here,
really. She didn’t understand that it was more important than
seeing her every night.”

“It’s not like
you’d have been far apart,” I said.

“No, but we
were going to move in together. We’d been looking at training seats
in Winchester, even had a deposit for a flat. I fucked up all our
plans and she was really upset about it. She took a place back at
home instead and I stayed with Tobe.

“Things just
got worse and worse. She hated her new job, moaned about it
whenever she visited. I started making excuses not to go home at
weekends. She would ring me, text me, email me constantly…I felt
trapped. She didn’t get why I couldn’t bunk off all the time to
reply to her, and I hated the way she made me feel guilty for just
wanting to do the right thing by Dad.”

“Did you dump
her?”

“Not exactly,
no. You have to see, Leila…the whole thing was so fucked up at that
point. I was miserable.” He moved away a little. “Cuntface hooked
me up with the place at Bach and Dagier, like some sort of shitty
olive branch. I hated London, I wanted to leave. This job screws
with you, you know? Then...this girl, on my first seat. Sabine.
Have you met her? Lots of bouncy blond hair, in the BFG’s office.
She started flirting with me and we ended up sleeping together.” A
pause. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“I see.”

“I felt like such an arse, but I kept doing it. I had too
much in my head, but Sabine didn’t expect anything of me...it was
just so much
 
easier,
 
and I hated knowing that about myself.”

“What happened,
in the end?”

He ripped a
fistful of grass from the earth. “I was so snowed under with work
and Mom and Dad, and everything else…I forgot that Niamh was coming
up one weekend. She caught me with Sabine. It was awful.”

I cringed. “Oh
God.”

“She kept
crying and crying. Sabine ended up comforting her, for fuck’s sake.
I just sat there like a prize twat, wondering if I was still awake.
You know how I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” I
chewed my bottom lip for a moment. “I never had you pinned as the
straying type.”