Heart (11 page)

My brain was a little fuzzy from the two glasses of wine I had drunk with the meal and, when Garrett texted Sam to let him know to pick us up, I stood and asked to be excused. Ester flicked her hand in the direction behind her and muttered something about the ‘powder room’ before picking up her recently-filled martini glass.

After going to the loo, I stood and stared at myself in the gilt-framed mirror. Who was I? And what was I doing? It wasn’t like I’d had a deprived upbringing or anything, but I was way out of my depth. It was The Ritz, for God’s sake!

But, other than Ester’s interesting company, I wasn’t really enjoying it. The uber-politeness of the waiting staff was nauseating and who really needs that many forks? In some way, it gave me clarity about Garrett: this was his life, but it wasn’t one I wanted. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to let him down gently in the car on the way back to Brighton. Even if it meant sacrificing our friendship, I knew what I wanted to do. What I
needed
to do. With a renewed sense of purpose, I made my way back to the table.

“Shame about that bloody birthmark, though, darling. She’d almost pass as a thoroughbred without it.” Ester was obviously unaware of my return but the look of embarrassment on Garrett’s face must have alerted her to my presence. I knew I had to maintain a sense of composure as her words made me want to cry or hit her, and hitting an old-aged pensioner just wasn’t my thing. “Oh, you’re back, Neve. Cinderella’s pumpkin has arrived, so this is the end of our delightful evening.” She stood and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “It was wonderful meeting you. I hope you will grace us with your company again soon,” she trilled, her mouth still close to my face. I could see the thickness of her foundation and her uneven eyeliner. She wasn’t glamorous at all: she was just an old woman desperately trying to maintain a sense of who she used to be.

My hand in Garrett’s as we walked out to the car, I realised I had yet again been seduced: this time by irreverence and glamour.
Would I ever learn?

I woke to find my head in Garrett’s lap, his hand gently playing with my hair. Jumping to an upright position, I knocked my head into his chin.

“Sorry. Umm, where are we?” The combination of alcohol and sleep had me disorientated.

“You fell asleep before we were out of London,” Garrett explained, rubbing the point of contact. “I hope it was tiredness, and not boredom?”

“Of course. It’s been a long day and a tiring evening,” I admitted.

“We’ll be back home in a few minutes, so sleepyhead will soon be in bed,” he replied, with a smile, before reaching across and taking my hand in his. When he gave me another of his knuckle-kisses, part of me worried he thought he would be joining me.

Sam parked the car in front of the door to my accommodation. When he left the engine running, I let out a sigh of relief that Garrett was clearly not intending to stay.

“I’ll be back shortly, Sam,” he said, taking my hand and walking me through the door. With each step we were closer to my room, my dread became a heavier burden. I had intended to let Garrett down in the car, not here. Turning onto my corridor, I knew I had to speak up.

“Thank you for this evening. I had a lovely time. But—”

“Sshh, don’t say a word,” he interrupted. “You’re tired and Grandmother can be a bit overwhelming. Leave it for now.” His words suggested he knew what I had been about to say. He took my key and opened my door. “Here you are, Cinderella.” He lowered his head and gave me the briefest of chaste kisses. “Goodnight, Neve,” he said, raising my hand to his lips and kissing my fingertips. “See you tomorrow.” And he was gone, along with the opportunity to make my feelings known.

I had a fitful night’s sleep after my evening at The Ritz. I had barely been able to stay awake long enough to take off the dress, let alone my makeup, but sleep had been an unhelpful friend. Images of Jake and Ester had stopped my brain from resting and so I woke up looking and feeling like crap. Great.

By mid-afternoon, I was still in my pyjamas and trying to struggle through the reading for one of my seminars. However, the rural troubles of Thomas Hardy were not enough to occupy my brain and it kept returning to Garrett and, more specifically, how I was going to tell him that I wasn’t interested in being more than his friend. How would he take it? Ruby’s story had done nothing to make me think this was going to be an easy conversation, but procrastination was only going to make it worse.

I indulged in a bar of chocolate and rehearsed the conversation in my head before picking up my phone.

Of course he answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Neve!”

Of course he sounded pleased I had rung.

“Hi. I just wanted to say thanks for last night,” I started, knowing it would be too rude to go straight into the real reason for my call.

“That’s okay. I wasn’t sure if it was too weird, taking you to meet Grandmother so soon, you know. But I spent so much of Friday talking about you, it seemed like a good idea when she suggested it.”

“I didn’t realise it was her idea.” Did that make it any better?

“Yes, I think she wanted to check you out. You know, see whether you were good enough for her only grandson!”

“And did she?” I thought back to her comment about me almost being a thoroughbred and felt my temper rise.

“Oh, yes, she’s already spoken to me today. She invited us back to London for Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving? But she’s English.”

“I know. She just wants to stop me feeling homesick. Are you up for it?” Oh, God, he obviously was unaware of what was going through my mind.

“Thanksgiving? When is it?” I bought myself some time to decide whether to just tell the truth then and there.

“It’s the last week in November. Thanksgiving is the Thursday and then we usually go shopping on Friday. I thought we could stay over,” he added.
Shit.

“Umm, I’m not sure… Mum’s birthday is that week so I may have to go home.” It was a good thing he couldn’t see the tell-tale burning of my face as I told the lie.

“Oh,” he said, disappointment dripping from the simple sound. “Well, check the dates and we can see if we can make it work.” There was an awkward pause. “Do you fancy going for a drink this evening?” I wasn’t enough of a bitch to reject him a second time so found myself agreeing to be picked up at seven.
Shit, shit and double-shit.

Just before seven found me stood outside my housing block, waiting for Garrett to arrive. Opting for something more casual than the night before, I wore a leather jacket over a long-sleeved, lace top and skinny jeans. I had straightened my hair and tried to style it like Emma did in the hairdressers, aiming for the more mature confidence I had felt that afternoon.

As soon as Garrett pulled in front of me, I opened the passenger door and got in. Yes, I was trying to take some control. Yes, I knew it was a token attempt at best. When I turned to buckle my seatbelt, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was nice, pleasant: you know, all of those words that told me it wasn’t Jake.

When I felt his tongue try to part my lips, I pulled back.

“So, where are we going?”

“I thought we’d grab a cocktail at Bar Biarritz. Have you been there?” He started the engine and pulled into the road.

“No. Is it in town?”

“Yes, by the seafront. It’s a bit more upmarket than the student bar and I thought we’d be able to talk.”
Uh oh.

The rest of the journey was silent, other than for the pounding beat of a rapper I didn’t recognise. What I did know was how offensive some of the lyrics were. Did he think I would be impressed by that? Again, I couldn’t make sense of these different pieces which made up the Garrett jigsaw. Sometimes he was so refined and so thoughtful; at other times, I found him almost repulsive. One thing was certain: I hadn’t appreciated the open simplicity of Jake.

Garrett parked in a street which ran down to the seafront and was almost run over in his desperation to open my door before I got my seatbelt undone.

“You look very sexy tonight,” he said, pulling me straight from the car into his arms. “A little bit naughty, even.”

Another kiss.

Another lukewarm reaction. Garrett took my hand, apparently unaware of my lack of response, and led me down toward the sea.

I could hear the bar before I saw it. It had full-length windows, open onto the seafront despite the autumnal chill, which let the low bass of the music and the chatter of the crowd spill onto the street. I couldn’t believe somewhere would be so busy on a Sunday night. And he thought we were going to be able to talk? Maybe it could work to my advantage.

Garrett opened the door but led us in, the throng of people parting as if they could smell his money and confidence. When we reached the back of the room, a couple stood up and left their sofa empty. With a sinking heart, I sat in its intimate embrace, its large, curved back offering more privacy than I had wanted. Oblivious to my unease, Garrett handed me the cocktail menu moments before the server appeared.

“A Cosmopolitan, please,” I said, avoiding all drinks with innuendo-laden names. “Why don’t you have a drink, as well? I can get a cab back later.”

“Thanks for offering, but that’s not my intention. I’ll just stick to a light beer. And some olives, please,” he added before angling himself away from the server, transaction completed. I wondered what his intention was but didn’t dare to ask, in case I didn’t like the reply.

We sat and made small talk, mainly about his grandparents’ lives. As before, he was more than happy to be the focus of conversation, rarely asking the questions which might have encouraged more from me. When he ordered me a second drink without asking, I knew I had to do something.

“Actually, could we go? Maybe for a walk?” Seeing my suggestion as a request for something more private, he quickly settled the bill and led us out of the bar. Thankful I’d opted for ballet flats, I suggested we go for a walk along the beachfront.

As we made our way past the small cafes and bars built into the arches facing the sea, Garrett kept an arm around my shoulders, forcing me to stay close to him. A group of lads made their noisy approach in our direction, no doubt en route to one of the nearby pubs. As they passed us, there was some inevitable jostling as we all struggled to stay on the narrow boardwalk.

“Sorry, darling,” one of them said as he accidentally knocked into me.

“No problem,” I laughed, part of me admiring his Welsh accent.

“It
is
a fucking problem,” Garrett said with much more force than was needed. “Show some respect.” Several of the group turned and I noticed a number of them were very well-built. Rugby players, maybe?

“I said I was sorry. There’s no need to get wound up, mate,” the Welsh lad added.

“I’m not your fucking
mate
. Now say it like you mean it.”
Really?

“What?” A couple of his friends edged closer to Garrett, and I grew worried.

“Hold on,” one of them said. “Let’s not fall out. We all just want a good time. He’s sorry. We’re all sorry.” He looked at his friends before glaring at Garrett. “But if you don’t fucking walk away now, you’ll be the one who’s sorry. What’s it gonna be?” His tone made it clear it wasn’t an empty threat.

“Come on, Garrett. Let’s go.” I pulled him in the opposite direction, worried he wasn’t going to back down, despite being outnumbered. I led us into a quiet alcove built into the sea wall. “Calm down, they’re not worth it.” I took both his hands in mine and looked him in the eye. “They were just having a laugh. Don’t let them ruin the evening.”

“They might think it’s funny, but I don’t. Nobody is disrespectful to my girl. Nobody.” Choosing to temporarily ignore being labelled as
his
girl, I tried to calm him down by rubbing his hands in mine. After taking a few deep breaths, he stilled our hands and looked at me with an unnerving intensity.

“Thank you, Neve,” he started, placing his hands on the wall behind me, trapping me. “Thank you for being you.” He kissed my forehead. “Thank you for keeping me out of trouble.” He kissed my nose. “Thank you for being mine.”
Mine?
After a brief kiss, his mouth crashed into mine, taking me by surprise. His tongue snaked its way between my lips as he pressed me into the wall with the full weight of his body. When I felt his obvious arousal press into me, I knew I had to stop the situation getting any worse. I managed to twist out from under one of his arms.