Authors: Portia MacIntosh
I exhale deeply. Had his mum not warned me this would happen, a comment like that would have totally floored me. The fact that I knew this was coming doesn’t mean I feel any less anxious about what I have to do next though.
‘Suddenly we’re liking each other – how old are you?’ I ask cruelly. ‘We both knew the score when we met, so why are you getting all clingy?’ Cruel to be kind, cruel to be kind. ‘Maybe I’m just bored of you now.’
Leo lets go of my hands, laughs and shakes his head.
‘You tell yourself that if you want to, Mia, but I think you like me just as much as I like you. You just don’t want to admit it. Stay here and do your work, you know where I am when you’re ready to accept it.’
And with that, he leaves. Everyone leaves or goes to bed, leaving me all alone.
I am so angry, I want to scream and swear and smash things. How infuriating is that man? Thinking I’m in love with him and just kidding myself. What an egotistical arsehole. He’ll sit down in the pub with his pint and laugh and joke with his friends and family, thinking I’m just being stubborn and that I’ll go running back to him, begging him to be with me. I shake my head. Not tonight, mister. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. I’m going to take a stroll and see if I can find sexy Chris the lifeguard. I think I need a little mouth to mouth resuscitation.
My sort-of holiday sort-of romance is like the one I always wanted but never had as a teenager. Sneaking around behind the family’s back and most of our romantic moments playing out on the beach – well, Chris removing my knickers in the sea while he did impressions from Pirates of the Caribbean wasn’t that romantic, but you know what I mean. Like a technology-free holiday romance from years back, Chris and I never swapped numbers. He knows where I’m staying but I don’t know exactly where he lives, so I’m not sure how I’m going to locate him. I know he doesn’t live too far from Shell’s Café, but I headed down that way without seeing a soul. What did I think was going to happen, that he’d be strolling around on the beach just waiting for me to pounce on him?
It’s late, and with Shell’s Café being closed up for the night things are eerily quiet down this end of the beach. I should probably head back to the house.
As I walk along the beach, I have nothing but my thoughts and the waves splashing at my feet to keep my company.
Leo thinks he’s got me all figured out. He thinks I’m deeply in love with him – as deep as this sea – and that I’m just kidding myself. Why is it so hard for people to believe that I don’t want a boyfriend of
any
description? Much less one who lives thousands of miles from me.
I wonder why it is that I’m so angry. Why don’t I just leave him to think what he wants? He’ll soon realise he’s wrong when I’m over five thousand miles away and he isn’t getting so much as a poke on Facebook. For a split second, I consider just how much I feel for Leo. Could it be possible that I like him like he likes me? Am I even capable of feeling that way about a man? I am distracted by my thoughts when I realise I’m not alone out here.
As I approach the house I see a shadowy figure sitting on the steps leading up the back door. As I get closer I realise it’s Mike. He’s drinking vodka and looking very sorry for himself.
‘Not enjoying the company at the pub?’ I ask.
‘I’d much rather be here with my friend, vodka,’ he tells me, raising a silent toast before taking a swig.
Uh-oh, something must be wrong.
‘Can I have some?’ I ask, sitting down on the step next to him.
‘Any friend of vodka is a friend of mine,’ he tells me, handing me the bottle. I take a swig before passing it back to him.
‘So, what’s up?’ I ask.
‘Were you not at dinner?’ he asks me. ‘When my mum told everyone what a loser I am?’
I notice a towel on the wall, probably left by one of the group earlier – I don’t care either way. I grab it, dry my feet and slip my heels back on.
‘Wait, let me get my shoes back on, I want to look my best for your pity party,’ I tease.
‘Very funny,’ he replies. ‘That was so fucking embarrassing, you’ve got to admit.’
‘My mum, gran, auntie – entire family – tell people what a loser I am at every opportunity. They just don’t get that we want different lives to them.’
‘My mum thinks I should be married, making babies and working some boring job.’
‘As does mine,’ I remind him.
‘So we’re both losers,’ he concludes, taking another drink.
‘I don’t know, I have a pretty cool job, I don’t work in a computer game shop,’ I joke, doing my best impression of his mum. Mike finally smiles.
‘Ah, there we go, I got a smile out of you. I’ll drink to that.’
I grab the bottle and take another hit. It’s powerful stuff, I’m feeling a little lightheaded already. I don’t think it’s mixing well with the wine I had with dinner.
‘Thanks for earlier, for getting them off my back,’ he says.
‘Ah, it was nothing. I didn’t need to try too hard, no one likes me.’
‘I like you,’ he tells me, looking deep into my eyes.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. Apart from the sound of the waves, it’s very quiet out here. The house is pretty much in darkness but the moon is so bright. You know, Mike really is quite handsome.
It’s almost as though he is reading my mind. Mike takes one big swig of vodka before discarding the bottle, grabbing my face and kissing me passionately. His approach may be a little sloppy, but I kiss him back. He’s a good-looking guy, we’re both single (oh-so single, as we are constantly reminded) and I actually want to do it. By kissing Mike, I am proving to myself that I don’t have any feelings for Leo, and the reassurance feels good – the kissing feels good too, Mike is pretty good at this. Frantically passionate to the point of being a little on the rough side, but I’m not complaining at all.
Mike pushes me back against the hard steps before pressing down on top of me. As he fumbles with my clothes, I realise what a terrible mistake we’re making.
‘Wait,’ I say, my words sounding muffled because he won’t stop kissing me, not even for a second. ‘We can’t do this, not here. We should go inside.’
‘Good thinking,’ he replies, releasing me from his grip and chasing me up the steps. Well the last thing we need is some poor dog walker to see us, call the police and land me in all sorts of trouble less than forty-eight hours before the wedding. Imagine that.
We sneak in through the back door, into the almost pitch black kitchen.
‘Right here,’ Mike insists. ‘I can’t wait long enough to take you upstairs.’
I shush him and listen carefully. The house is not only in darkness, it’s in complete silence. The oldies and the kids will surely be asleep and I imagine everyone else will be at the pub for quite a while yet.
For a moment, we stand and stare at each other. It’s too dark to see much, but I can hear Mike breathing heavily, I can feel his body pressing against mine – and then our lips meet again.
We stand there kissing for a while before I feel Mike’s lips travel to my neck and then down my body. Kneeling down in front of me, he runs his hands up my legs, takes hold of my knickers, pulls them down and then removes them.
‘Do you know why blondes wear knickers?’ he asks in a whisper.
‘Why?’ I reply.
‘To keep their ankles warm,’ he tells me, coming back up to eye-level and stuffing them down my cleavage.
‘They won’t keep my ankles warm there,’ I tell him.
‘Well, we’ll just have to find another way to keep you warm,’ he replies.
Mike’s brief yet effective moment of slow paced seduction is over. He grabs me by the hips and pushes me back towards the kitchen counter, lifting me up and sitting me down on top of it.
As he unbuttons his trousers and moves in close I wrap my legs around his waist, but I can’t get comfortable.
‘What have you sat me on,’ I ask, practically talking into his mouth as we kiss. ‘It feels really wet.’
‘You’re just really into it,’ he jokes. He clearly couldn’t give a damn but whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t ruin my dress.
He may not be as strong or as hot as Leo, but Mike certainly knows what he’s doing – why am I even thinking about Leo? He’s not important right now, all that matters is that I was right. I feel nothing for him, right? No, this doesn’t feel right, this feels wrong and I need to stop this before this kiss goes too far… but I don’t get the chance.
I notice the kitchen light turn on a split second before I hear Dan’s voice.
‘Surprise,’ I hear him call out, followed by a number of shocked gasps.
We both freeze, neither of us daring to look.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Belle shouts.
I finally look towards the kitchen doorway and see that Belle, Dan, my mum, my auntie and Mike’s mum are all standing there.
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ Mike blurts out, still pressed up against me, my legs still locked around his waist.
‘Really?’ Belle asks. ‘Because it kind of looks like you’re bumping uglies with my sister in the kitchen.’
‘It’s like a sexy version of Cluedo,’ I whisper into Mike’s ear and he chuckles briefly. I know that this is a fairly awkward situation, but it’s just sex – well, nearly sex. To be honest I’m glad someone else stopped things, because I’m not sure how I would’ve let Mike down gently after coming to my senses.
‘Do you think this is funny?’ Harriet asks. I know she’s a bit of a prude, but her son is thirty and unmarried, you’d think she’d be pleased to see him interact with a member of the opposite sex.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ she tells him before pointing at me. ‘And you’re a harlot.’
‘How could you, Mia?’ I hear my own mum ask.
‘Oh, come on, we’re all adults, and we were only kissing. No harm done,’ I insist. Despite Mike’s trousers being undone, they’re still up around his waist and no one knows I’m missing my knickers – again. These guys really need to lighten up.
‘Do you think Mike’s girlfriend will think there’s no harm done when she finds out?’ Harriet asks angrily.
Wait, Mike’s single, isn’t he? I look at him and wait for him to put his mum right, but he doesn’t.
‘Mike, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?’ I ask.
‘Sort of,’ he replies.
‘And he "sort of" has for the past four years,’ his mum adds.
‘You told me you were single,’ I say quietly through gritted teeth.
‘No, I told you I wasn’t married. My mum goes on at me to pop the question, but I don’t want that, I–’ he begins to explain, but now isn’t the time.
‘I tell you what, you can explain this little misunderstanding to me later, when we’re not joined at the crotch, surrounded by our families,’ I reply. ‘In fact, now might be the time to let go,’ I suggest helpfully.
‘I can’t, can I? Everyone will see.’
I shake my head in disbelief. He’s still standing so close to me because he’s worried he’ll flash when he fastens his trousers. Surely that’s the least of his worries.
‘You think we have any modesty left?’ I ask him, shaking my head before burying my face in his chest. I want the ground to swallow me up.
‘Leo,’ I hear Belle squeak.
I look up and follow her gaze across the room to where Leo is sitting.
‘How long have you been there?’ I ask in astonishment.
‘Longer than you’ve been sitting there,’ he tells me. With all the arguing going on, none of us even noticed he was in the room.
‘I came looking for you,’ he tells me. ‘When I couldn’t find you I thought I’d sit up and wait for you to get back. When you guys came in you didn’t even notice I was here.’
‘So you were just sitting in the dark?’ I ask angrily. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘You were having too much fun,’ he replies. ‘And you have no right to angrily quiz me.’
‘Wait, was this my surprise?’ Belle asks Dan. ‘Because this isn’t funny at all.’
‘No, no,’ Dan babbles. ‘I brought you all to see the cake.’
‘Well, where is it?’ Belle asks.
Dan, who isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, scratches his head as he tries to remember where he put this cake, and he remembers where he left it around the time I make the realisation that the soft, wet sticky something I am sitting on is my sister’s wedding cake. The custom made, one of a kind, ordered months ago and flown in from Paris cake that Dan spent a ridiculous amount of money on to make Belle’s day perfect.
We exchange concerned glances. I can’t be sitting on top of the cake, can I?
Up until now, things were weirdly calm. People were angry, but in that reserved way English people have perfected – not mad, disappointed – but as Belle slowly approaches me, she learns the fate of her cake.
Mike is still pressed against me, so with nowhere to run my sister is able to fully express her rage, blindly slapping us both using both hands.
‘Get them off it, get them off it,’ she cries as Dan and my mum try to restrain her.
‘It’s too late now,’ my mum tells her softly.
You’re damn right it is. I have icing so far up my butt I can taste it. This cake is a write off, I’ve helped Mike cheat on his long-term girlfriend and Leo looks both distraught and furious having watched me getting off with his best friend’s brother. Everyone is looking at me like I’m the most disgusting person in the world, my sister is crying her eyes out and if Mike doesn’t get his cake-covered cock away from me right now, I will rip it off with my bare hands.
Leo storms out of the back door, slamming it behind him. Everyone else filters out of the kitchen and it takes several minutes before I can no longer hear my sister’s crying. It’s just the two of us now.
‘I don’t suppose you want to finish?’ Mike jokes as he swipes a little frosting up with his finger and tastes it. At least I hope he’s joking.
‘Get off me before I shove the rest of this cake up
your
arse,’ I warn him.
Mike does at he is told, finally releasing me before pulling his pants up and running upstairs.
Finally alone, I hop down off the counter and examine the cake. You can’t even call it a cake any more, it’s just the remains of something delicious-smelling with my butt-print right in the middle of it. Thank God there wasn’t a little plastic bride and groom on top.