His Pretend Girl (3 page)

My heart beat faster, and I dug my fingers into the dress on both sides, ready to lift my skirt and walk away, when he cleared his throat somewhere behind me. I knew it was Ben even before he spoke.

“
Dorothy
.” He sounded in pain. “I can’t begin to apologize. I just…”

I froze. My fingers tightened their death grip on the dress. I’d been bracing myself to see him tomorrow. I wasn’t ready yet.

“I brought your shoes back.” A splash indicated he’d stepped closer, but I still kept my back to him, my face flaming. “I was going to say I feel like Prince Charming finding Cinderella, but yeah. I’m more like the evil ogre. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Turn around, Dorothy,
please
. Let me talk to you. And then I’ll walk away, and we can pretend this never happened. Okay?”

I couldn’t avoid him any longer. Taking a ragged breath, and with my heart pounding, I slowly turned to face Ben.

His hair was in disarray, his jacket was draped over his arm, and my red shoes dangled from one hand. He ran his free hand through his hair and messed it even more, then rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze held my own, his expression shadowed in the near darkness. “I’m sorry, Dorothy,” he repeated.

“Why did you do it, Ben? Why?” My voice sounded harsh to me.

He flinched. “I didn’t tell him it was you. Matthew.” He shrugged, but it looked awkward. “I told him there was a girl I fancied, only she was dead set on him, but I didn’t say it was you.” He sighed and dropped his gaze, the sea suddenly holding his attention. “So yeah. You can go back to buying his coffee and chasing after him again. I fucked up tonight, but he doesn’t know.”

One of the tight knots in my chest loosened a fraction. That was one humiliation I was spared, at least.

Was it true? I was just Matthew’s coffee-girl? He couldn’t even be bothered to learn my name.

I re-ran Ben’s words in my head.
There was a girl I fancied.
Copious amounts of alcohol gave me a courage I would never have again. With my heart banging painfully against my ribs, I stared at Ben, and really
looked
at him—at the dejected slump of his shoulders and the tight grip on my damn shoes. Shoes he’d rescued. What did I have to lose? “Do you mean me? You were interested in
me
?”

His head shot up, and he met my eyes. “Yeah. I fucked up good style, didn’t I?”

I couldn’t read anything on his shadowed face, but I felt a hysterical bubble welling up inside, and I tamped it down. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

He rubbed his chin, tugged at the bowtie, and shrugged again. “Because I’m a dick?”

Ben was many things, but not a dick. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “And because I was obsessed with Matthew.”

“Yeah.”

We stood there a moment longer, not saying anything, water sloshing around our legs. His gorgeous suit would be wrecked too. “Thank you, for the shoes…and everything. I feel stupid.” I frowned as I remembered something. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“No. Not for ages.” He hesitated. “She got fed up with me talking about you.”

“Me?”

His lips curved upward. “I should have just asked you out.”

“Why didn’t you?” The sea had reached my knees and now felt decidedly cool, but I didn’t want to break this conversation.

He blew out a breath, stroked his finger along one eyebrow, and fidgeted some more. “I…uh…didn’t think you’d be interested. I’m not like Matthew.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. I’d spent so long thinking about Matthew, I’d overlooked the one guy who might actually be worth taking a chance on. “Ask me now,” I whispered.

There was a stunned silence that dragged on forever, and then a flash of white teeth in the darkness. Ben held out his hand. “I… Would you like to go to dinner one night, Dorothy? Maybe the movies? Whatever you fancy. With me?”

“Yes please.” I felt an answering smile spread across my face, and I reached out to tangle our fingers together. “Do I need to choose now?”

He gave a pleased huff of laughter and squeezed my hand, drawing it into his side. “No, but let’s get out of the water before you freeze to death. I don’t want our first date to be huddled around a trolley in Wellington Hospital.”

We splashed together toward the sand, and I couldn’t help giggling. “I’m sorry, but it’s just so ridiculous. My dress, your suit. Did you think I wanted to drown myself or something?”

“Honestly?” He hesitated. We finally stepped out of the water and paused on the damp, firm sand just out of the shallows. Ben pulled me close, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I thought you looked like a mermaid. A beautiful, shy mermaid.”

I glanced down at the trailing hem of my dress. It looked like a fishtail. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me, and I wanted to tell Ben that, but my mouth was so dry, I couldn’t speak.

He was taller than me, and I tilted my head up to look at him, my pulse accelerating, and my breathing growing ever more ragged. He licked his lips and glanced down, his gaze searching my face. Was he going to kiss me? The First Kiss always terrified me. What if we bumped noses? What if he didn’t like me? If I didn’t like him?

His breath hitched, and he leaned into me, until our lips met halfway. He swept across the corner of my mouth, before he eased closer and released my hand to wrap both arms around my waist. In the dizzying heartbeat that it took to slide my arms around his neck, he swooped into me and claimed my lips properly. His mouth was cool and soft, and tasted of mint with a faint wash of alcohol, as though he’d just been chewing gum. His tongue flicked against the seam of my lips, and I opened to let him in.

Why had we never done this before? He hummed approval and slanted his mouth, pressing against me with the perfect mix of passion and tenderness. One hand rose to cup the back of my head, to angle me for an even deeper kiss. I clung onto him, my knees trembling and heart racing. If I let go, I wouldn’t be able to stand. There, on the sand, in the moonlight, he made love to my mouth. I wanted time to stop. To capture this beautiful moment and bottle it for posterity. I’d never been kissed so thoroughly, so exquisitely.

“I thought it was perfect when you danced in my arms.” Ben’s voice was low and husky, and it sent tingles down my spine. “But this—kissing my mermaid…it’s like heaven.”

A splash of water against my ankles made me pause. The tide was still coming in, and we needed to move. “Do you want to come back to my place to dry out?” Before I could decide if I’d said the right thing, he squeezed me tighter.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

It took an age to walk the short distance back to my house. Ben wrapped his arm around my waist, and every step, we paused for a kiss. Insecurities churned inside me.
Is it too soon to ask him to stay the night?
If a magical kiss was as far as it went, I’d still be happy.

We reached my front door, and I fumbled in my tiny bag for the key card, my fingers slipping over the contents.

After drinking on an empty stomach, I should have realized the stupidity of opening a bottle of wine. I was nervous, though, with Ben in such close proximity, and I’d messed up so much of the evening already. I needed something to give me the courage to ask him to stay.

I sloshed wine into two glasses and held one out to him, before he could refuse.

“I’m good, thanks.” He took the glass and put it on the table, then moved closer to me. I took a gulp of my drink. Was it just me, or was it hot in here?

“You’re wet,” I blurted, and then took another slug of the wine. Mistake. With a suddenness that took me by surprise, my stomach cramped and nausea rose.
Oh
. I swallowed, and tried to suck in a deep breath, but my guts were rebelling.
Holy shit.
Vomiting was imminent.

Ben reached an arm around my shoulders, leaning in to kiss me, but I couldn’t, not when I was about to puke. I clapped a hand over my mouth, and sidestepped out of his embrace. Of all the stupid ideas in the world, why had I opened that damned wine?

“Dorothy?” Ben’s voice sounded as though he was far away, at the end of a long tunnel, and now when I stared at him, I could see two Bens. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Sick,” I mumbled. Shit, shit,
shit
. Acid reflux burned my throat. I was seconds away from hurling the scant contents of my stomach onto the floor. I left Ben, stumbled down the corridor to the bathroom, and barely made the toilet in time.

I heard a noise behind me—a door banging. I wanted to die. Stupid.
Stupid
. He was just about to kiss me again. Like that was going to happen
now
. That noise was probably Ben leaving. Another wave of sickness ripped me apart, and when it was over, I slumped to the floor, my head leaning against the wall. Could I be any more of a mess?

“Hey.” He hadn’t left after all. “I fetched you some water and a damp cloth.”

My eyes pricked with tears, and I blinked furiously. I wasn’t crying as well. “Thank you,” I whispered, my throat burning. My hand shook, and so Ben held the glass to my lips.

“Slowly. A little at a time.”

He held the glass still and I took a sip. The water was cool and soothing to my mouth, and I took some more. It felt like it might stay down, but I wasn’t going anywhere yet. The toilet was my friend right now.

Silence stretched between us, and I risked peeping up at Ben. He leaned against the bathroom wall, concern on his face. His poor trousers were ruined from the sea. I glanced at my own outfit. The dress was heavy and wet, with sand smears across the fabric. I shivered. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s my turn to fuck things up.”

He dropped to a crouch beside me, and ran a hand through my now short hair. The gentleness of his touch threatened to unravel me even further, and a hot tear trickled down my cheek.

“Sweetheart.” He dabbed at the tear with his finger. “Please don’t cry.” Worry shone in his eyes. “I hate that I made you cry.”

My laugh came out as a strangled croak. “That’s not… I’m not…” Anything more sensible vanished, as another surge of nausea had me retching, my poor stomach cramping, and my head pounding.

****

I was in bed. I knew that. Nowhere else felt as comfortable—as safe. I buried my face in the pillow, and tried to find a cool spot, somewhere to ease the banging in my head. Opening my eyes was a mistake. Brilliant sunshine seared across my retinas, and the headache ramped up to an unearthly drumbeat. I whimpered and turned back to the pillow. My throat felt as raw as if I’d taken sandpaper to it, and as for the taste in my mouth? I needed to brush my teeth immediately.

That would require moving, and I wasn’t sure I could face being upright yet.

How did I get into bed? The last thing I remembered was hugging the toilet, with—
oh, God
—Ben wiping my face.
The shame
.

I thought hard.
Wrapping my arms around Ben’s neck as he carried me out of the bathroom
. I wasn’t able to walk.
Ben placing me on the bed
. I dug deeper.
Ben unzipping my dress.
I hadn’t wanted him to leave. I remembered sobbing over his shirt. I’d told him to take off his wet clothes and come and join me.
He lay down on the bed, with me in his arms.

After that? Nothing. Just a great black hole where my memory should have been. What happened? Did we…?

Forcing gritty eyelids open, I squinted under the covers.
Naked
. I gulped. A hazy memory of me waving my bra in the air made me wince. Had we made love? And if so, why couldn’t I remember it? Had it been good? Terrible? I curled up in a ball and tugged the pillow over my head.

He wouldn’t. Not while I was so drunk.

But even if we hadn’t, dear Christ. How much of a mess had I been? How could I ever face Ben now?

The insistent buzzing of my alarm reminded me I needed to get up. I still had a day to complete at work, and phoning in sick wasn’t an option.

Had Ben stayed the night? The house was silent, so I guessed he wasn’t here any more. Stumbling from the bed, I saw a bottle of water and a little foil strip of pills on the bedside table. And a folded sheet of paper.

The water was blissful, and I knew the painkillers would soon work their magic, so that just left the note. Was I ready for that?

Call me?

Ben

Oh, shit. What could I say? I traced his untidy handwriting with my finger, and sucked in a breath. I couldn’t.
I had to
. I settled for finishing the water and curling up in bed again, while I waited for my headache to subside.
Call me?
And why the question mark?

I knew I was going to be late for work, but I took a long, hot shower, and then brewed a pot of strong coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, shading my eyes from the brilliant sunshine, I stared at my phone.

Call me?
I couldn’t.

The red shoes sat neatly on the floor, mocking me.

Every instinct told me to run away. After all, that was what I did best. That was how I’d ended up here in Wellington instead of staying in Emerald City. How ironic that my hometown was now where I longed to be, and even though I had a ticket booked to fly home for Christmas, it wasn’t for another two days.

Finally though, I could put it off no longer. I sent a text message.

Thx for the water & pills. Sorry. Pls send me the bill for your suit to be cleaned. Dorothy

Knowing Ben, he’d call me back, so I switched off my phone. I couldn’t stall him for long, and this had the potential to be horrendous, but like Saint George facing the dragon, it had to be done. I had to get my butt into the office.