Some Girls Do (41 page)
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. And it won’t be like starting again. It’ll be like … riding a bike. Just a different bike.’
She laughed.
‘And don’t worry about impressing him – just be yourself.’
‘But what about us?’ she asked, blurting out the thing that was worrying her most.
‘What about us?’
‘Will I ever see you again? Will we still be friends?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ he said immediately, and she sagged with relief. ‘I mean, if you want to be?’
‘I do.’ She nodded eagerly. She couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.
‘Me too.’ He sank back against the sofa and blew out a breath. ‘So, this is it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m going to miss this,’ he said, waving his hand between the two of them.
‘Me too.’
He reached for her and pulled her into his lap so she was straddling him.
‘So, what do you say?’ he asked mischievously, as he trailed a warm hand underneath her skirt. ‘One last undress rehearsal?’
They didn’t have any dinner in the end, instead spending all the time they had together making love. Claire knew she was kissing Luca more passionately, clinging to him more fiercely than ever before, sucking his cock like it was the last time – because it was. He seemed more intense too, kissing her frantically, pushing into her faster and harder than he ever had before, touching her
everywhere as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her skin. He went down on her for so long that she thought she was in danger of forgetting his face. It had been the most intense, exhilarating, satisfying sex of her life.
So why did she feel so deflated as she travelled home later that night in a taxi? What had she been expecting? Some display of jealousy? Luca begging her not to go? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been clear from the start about what their relationship was – and what it wasn’t. He had told her right from the beginning that she wasn’t to think of him as a boyfriend, so she could hardly expect him to declare undying love for her and beg her to stay. But, still, she couldn’t help feeling rattled by how cool he had been about it all – the ease with which he could watch her move on to another man. Maybe she’d fallen a little bit for Luca’s easy charm. But the kind of casual, no-strings arrangement that was all he could handle would never be enough for her. He was wrong for her and she had always known that. With Mark she could have a proper grown-up relationship and the kind of life she wanted. She was probably just feeling wobbly about taking it to the next level.
It was a pity Luca didn’t want to be in a relationship because she thought he would be better at it than he gave himself credit for. But he didn’t, so he would go back to his old ways, and she would go to London next weekend and sleep with Mark. There was nothing stopping her – certainly not Luca.
On Friday evening, Mark took Claire to the same village bistro they had gone to on her previous visit. The restaurant was buzzing, and her niggling doubts melted away as they chatted over the delicious food and wine. He was wearing a casual lightweight suit and a beautiful dove-grey shirt, and she was struck anew by how handsome he was. She found herself starting to wonder what he would look like naked, and felt a little shiver of excitement at the thought of finding out. The idea of sleeping with him didn’t faze her. She had no worries about disappointing him in bed, and she was suddenly overcome by a feeling of well-being, as if everything was as it should be. Luca was right. It would be just like riding a different bike.
‘When are you off to New York?’ Claire asked.
‘Next Friday. A friend’s getting married there so a few of us are going over and staying on for a few days after.’
‘That should be lovely.’
‘I wish you could come. I don’t suppose there’s any chance …?’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘I know it’s short notice.’
‘No,’ she said, with a wistful sigh. ‘I wish I could.’ She hadn’t had a proper holiday in ages, so she could probably have afforded it. But she couldn’t leave her mother just now. ‘I’d love to go to New York.’
‘You’ve never been?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, you have to go. Let’s go together! I mean not now, obviously, but we should plan it.’
‘That would be great.’ Claire felt excited already at the idea of
going to New York with him, even if it was just a vague, far-off prospect.
‘We’re invited to a dinner party with some friends tomorrow night, if you’d like to go?’ he said.
‘That’d be lovely.’ She smiled across at him. ‘I’d really like to meet your friends.’ She was touched that Mark was so ready to make her part of his life.
‘Emma will be there, so there’ll be someone you already know.’
‘Oh.’ Emma was Mark’s colleague – Claire knew her on Twitter as @Locksie. ‘But she won’t know it’s me. I mean, you haven’t told her, have you?’
‘No! She won’t have a clue. But at least you’ll know who she is.’
‘It’ll be nice to meet her in real life, even if I can’t reveal my true identity.’ Claire laughed. ‘God, now I know how Superman and Spider-Man and that lot must feel.’
‘Does that make me Lois Lane?’
‘Or Mary Jane.’
Mark laughed. ‘I quite like the idea of having a superhero girlfriend. What would your power be?’
‘Hmm.’ Claire racked her brain, but the only superpowers she could think of that NiceGirl might have were bordering on obscene, and she didn’t want to go there. ‘Um … being super-nice?’ she said weakly.
‘I can vouch for that.’ Then he leaned forward and whispered, ‘But you’re going to have to do a better job of hiding it or everyone will discover your secret.’
Between the main course and dessert, Claire went outside to phone home. ‘I just want to check on my mother, make sure everything’s okay,’ she said to Mark.
Espie’s Friday-night card party was in full swing, and Claire could hear lots of chatter and laughter in the background when her mother picked up.
‘I’m fine,’ Espie assured her. ‘Nancy and Michael are just down the road, and Jim’s coming over for the day tomorrow. He’s going to stay the night.’
‘TMI, Mum.’ Claire laughed.
‘In the spare room,’ Espie said. ‘Even if the spirit was willing, I don’t think that lump of metal in my hip would be up to any high jinks at the moment. Getting my knickers
on
is enough of a challenge. I won’t be whipping them off in a hurry. Anyway, are you having a nice time?’
‘Yes, lovely.’ There was a burst of laughter in the background, and Claire felt a pang, almost wishing she was there. ‘Sounds like you’re having fun.’
‘We’re having a great night. Everyone else brought food, so I didn’t have to lift a finger. It’s a pity you’re not here. They all miss you – especially Luca.’
‘Luca’s
there?’
‘Jim called in to him on his way over and asked if he wanted to come. That was nice of him, wasn’t it? Poor Luca, I think he’s pining for you.’
‘Don’t be daft, Mum.’ She didn’t want to disillusion her mother by telling her that Luca knew she was spending the weekend with another man and didn’t give a toss. Not only did he not care, he had personally coached her for the occasion. He had just stopped short of making her a packed lunch.
‘He actually won a couple of tricks tonight,’ her mother continued. ‘It’s a pity we didn’t up the stakes, because I think he could do with the money. Jim’s trying to teach him the spoons now – you should see him!’ She giggled. ‘He’s all fingers and thumbs.’
‘Well, tell everyone I said hi.’
‘I will. Do you want to talk to Luca?’
‘No. I’d better get back to Mark. Night, Mum.’
She felt unsettled as she walked back to her table. It was ridiculous! She was in a lovely restaurant with a really nice man
who wanted to be with her, yet she felt almost resentful about being there with Mark instead of at home playing cards with her mother and her cronies – and Luca, who would ultimately only ever want to be friends. She didn’t like to think of him being there without her, jealous of the time other people got to spend with him. At the same time, a little part of her was glad to know that he was safely holed up at her house instead of out on the prowl, picking up girls.
‘Everything okay?’ Mark asked as she pulled out her chair.
‘Fine.’ She smiled at him as she sat down, determined to throw herself wholeheartedly into this – whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. At least it had potential.
They were quiet as they walked the short distance back to Mark’s flat in the balmy night air, but Claire’s mind was buzzing. She had to get over this pointless hankering for Luca. And she had a pretty good idea how to do it. Luca had warned her when they started not to confuse sex with romance, but she had been so inexperienced that it was probably inevitable she would develop feelings for him when they had been so intimate with each other. Once she started sleeping with Mark, she would transfer those feelings to him and everything else would fall into place. She’d forget all about this stupid fixation on Luca. Mark was everything she wanted. All she had to do was sleep with him, and she’d be fine. Maybe she’d abandon her five-date rule and just let it happen.
When they were back at the flat and Mark started kissing her, she didn’t hold back, happy to follow wherever this led. She wasn’t going to stick to rigid rules any longer. When his kisses became more urgent, she kissed him back just as feverishly and when his hand slid up to cup her breast, she didn’t push it away, but arched into it while her fingers raked through his hair. And yet, though she was making all the right moves, she felt detached somehow, like she was outside her
body, watching, and this was all happening to someone else. She just couldn’t get into it.
Mark must have sensed that something was off because his hand stilled, his kisses slowed and then he was peeling away from her.
‘Sorry,’ he said, putting some distance between them. He looked flushed and contrite. ‘Am I moving too fast again?’
‘No. I just – I’m just tired.’ She stifled a yawn and realised she really
was
tired. That was probably all it was – her libido was at a low ebb because she was tired and a bit stressed.
They went to bed shortly after, Mark kissing her goodnight with a peck on the lips. But Claire found she couldn’t sleep, all the conflicting feelings of the evening crowding in on her and making it impossible to let go. What the hell was wrong with her? She was with a lovely man who liked her, shared her interests and wanted to shag her – and if his kisses were anything to go by, it would have been brilliant. A man, moreover, who wanted a relationship, not just a string of meaningless shags. So what the fuck was she doing alone in bed, wishing she was … what? Back home, playing cards with Luca?
She sighed in frustration. With no prospect of sleep in sight, she took out her laptop and started writing a draft of a final blog post. She decided to write about Mark – almost as if by writing it, she could make it come true.
Weekends I’m In Love
Not just Fridays. But I’ve met someone, and he doesn’t live in the same city as me, or even the same country, so we’re doing the long-distance thing and mostly I just see him on weekends. It’s not very long-distance – we’re just a short flight away from each other – but it’s fun and exciting, and it’s given a whole new meaning to That Friday Feeling
.
I like him an awful lot. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. Because this one’s different. So I’m closing the bedroom door, and I’m shutting down the blog. No more Ms NiceGirl. Because after all the men I’ve known – Mr Bossy, Mr Curious, Mr Strange, Mr Bump and Grind, Mr Ed (remember him?), Mr Handy – I’ve finally found the one I was looking for all along … Mr Right
.
It needed work, but it was a nice idea, she thought, as she switched off the laptop and put it away. She liked to think of NiceGirl getting her happy-ever-after. And she’d get her own happy ending too. Tomorrow would be date number five. She would sleep with Mark and everything would be fine.
The following evening they took a taxi to Belsize Park, to the house of Mark’s friend Olivia. Claire took his hand in the back of the cab, sighing happily as his warm fingers curled around hers. It had been such a lovely day. She had worried there might be some awkwardness after the previous evening, but Mark was his usual friendly, relaxed self, and she felt perfectly at ease again.
It had been a beautiful summer’s day, the sun hot in a cloudless blue sky, a gentle breeze taking the edge off the temperature so that the heat wasn’t oppressive. They had had a blissfully lazy day in the garden, chatting, reading the papers and stroking Millie, punctuated by coffee and tea, cold white wine, croissants, salmon quiche and strawberries. Claire felt almost drowsy with pleasure, as pampered and contented as Millie.
‘So, this is our fifth date,’ she said, as they walked up the path to his friend’s house.
He stopped and turned to her. ‘Is it? I wasn’t sure – I mean I didn’t know if you counted this weekend as one or …’
‘It’s definitely our fifth date,’ she said. ‘And, by the way, I’m not seeing the Artist any more.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No. I broke it off with him before I came over here,’ she said, with a calm smile.
He smiled back, his eyes glittering with intent. Then he took her hand and continued walking.
A very pretty girl with long, shiny dark hair answered the door. ‘Mark!’ she squealed, pulling him into a hug.
‘Olivia, this is Claire,’ Mark said when he’d been released. ‘Claire, Olivia.’
‘Hi, Claire, it’s lovely to meet you,’ Olivia said, as they shook hands.
‘You too.’
‘Well, come in, come in.’ Olivia ushered them into the hallway. ‘Let me take your coats. Gosh, I love your dress.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire said, as she handed over her jacket.
‘We’re all in here.’ She led them into a small dining room, where people were already seated around a large table. Banks of candles on every surface gave the room and everyone in it a soft glow.