Diary of a Crush: Kiss and Make Up (22 page)

I looked at him blankly before remembering that my mobile was in my pack. I wrestled Carter’s arm off and started burrowing for the ringing phone. By the time I found it, it had stopped ringing but Shona’s number was the last one stored. I pressed Call.

She answered on the first ring.

‘Edie?’

‘Shona!’

‘Are you OK?’

I gave Carter a sour look but he raised one eyebrow at me and carried on sitting there. ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry for taking off like that.’

‘Never mind all that, give Dylan a call, he’s looking for you, he was going to try and find a cab.’

‘Is he mad at me?’

‘He’s worried about you. But if Carter’s there you’d better tell him to exit sharpish, ’cause I’ve never seen Dylan in such a rage. Every other word that came out of his mouth began with f.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ll see you when?’

‘Tomorrow. Hey, Shona?’

‘What?’

‘Guess who’s standing five feet away from me?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Professor frickin’ Green. That’s who!’

‘Edie, are you on drugs?’

‘I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.’

I cut off the call and started scrolling for Dylan’s number.

‘Was that your little friend Shona?’ Carter taunted me. ‘Wondering why they’re all stranded without the van?’

‘Stop acting like someone from a second-rate gangster flick. I’m calling Dylan now.’

‘Oooooh, I’m really scared,’ grinned Carter as I pressed Call again.

‘Hey,’ I said hesitantly when he answered.

‘Where are you? Are you all right?’

‘I’m at the Manor Park Hotel?’

I heard Dylan say something to someone.

‘Dylan? Where are you?’

‘I’m in a taxi, I’ll be with you in about ten minutes, can you hold on?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine but Carter’s here and he’s… I can’t get rid of him.’

Carter looked quite chuffed about this.

‘Has he hurt you?’ asked Dylan.

‘Oh please! Like he could but… just get here soon, OK?’

‘I’m…’ There was a beep and my phone cut out. The battery needed recharging. I stood up and Carter was immediately at my side.

‘Going somewhere, sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘Dylan’s on his way, he’s absolutely furious with you,’ I said with some satisfaction. ‘Why don’t you just go before there’s some hideous scene?’

Carter looked unconcerned. ‘I’m not frightened of him. He couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.’

‘Why won’t you go?’ I asked him tiredly.

‘Give me my five hundred and fifty quid and I will,’ Carter replied.

‘I haven’t got it,’ I told him. ‘And anyway I think you owe me.’

‘For what? Services rendered? Hardly!’

I didn’t know what to do. If I went up to the room then Carter was going to follow me and he was in such an obnoxious and confrontational mood that I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle the situation. There seemed to be a lot of inappropriate touching going on. He was currently stroking my arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. But if I stayed where there were people and Dylan came in and started a fight we’d probably get thrown out. I was just wondering whether I could give Carter the slip by disappearing into the Ladies when Dylan suddenly burst through the door.

He looked awful. His eyes were deep, dark holes in an ashen face and his hair was going in fifty directions like he’d been tugging at it in desperation.

He glanced around wildly before catching sight of me and was at my side in an instant.

‘Edie!’ he exclaimed, running a gentle hand down my cheek. ‘Thank God I found you! Why did you skip out like that?’

‘It seemed like a good idea,’ I admitted ruefully. ‘All those things Veronique said…’ My voice tailed off.

Dylan gave me a tiny shake. ‘Like I was going to believe her! Are you all right?’

There was a cough behind us. ‘I’m sorry to break up this touching reunion,’ said Carter, ‘but Edie and I were just going upstairs. She forced me to book a room and, well, you know how it is…’

Dylan growled and lunged at Carter but I held him back.

‘Look, let’s all go upstairs and sort this out,’ I suggested, moving towards the lift with my hand still clutching at Dylan’s T-shirt so he couldn’t make any sudden moves.

Carter shrugged and followed us.

The atmosphere in the lift was hostile with added bits of hostility. I stood in between Carter and Dylan as they glared at each other – the journey up to the fifth floor seemed to take an eternity.

‘It’s room 507,’ I said absently as we walked down a thickly-carpeted corridor and Dylan smiled faintly.

‘That’s the room you stayed in in Paris,’ he commented. Carter snorted.

Dylan stopped. ‘I’ve just about had enough of you,’ he told Carter in a cold voice that turned my insides to ice.

‘The feeling’s mutual,’ Carter sneered. ‘But I paid over five hundred quid for this room so you can either give me the money or the pair of you can sleep in the van.’

Put like that, Carter did have a point and I could see Dylan reaching the same conclusion until Carter couldn’t resist adding, ‘Mind you I’d be happy to take three hundred if you threw Edie in as part of the deal.’

I jumped out of the way with a girly shriek as Dylan slammed Carter into the wall and landed him a sucker punch right on the jaw.

I didn’t know who looked more surprised, Carter or Dylan. Neither of them did anything for a moment but then Carter dived at Dylan and they both went down on the floor. I stood there helplessly while they rolled about hitting each other. Dylan eventually pinned Carter to the ground and kept punching him. It was horrible. Like
When Bears Attack
on the Discovery Channel but more
When Artboys Attack
.

‘Stop it!’ I shouted, trying to pull Dylan off. ‘Stop it, both of you!’ I managed to separate them finally by grabbing an ear apiece and pinching until they were forced to stop trying to inflict maximum pain on each other. Dylan got unsteadily to his feet while Carter lay on the floor groaning, his mouth bleeding.

‘I think you broke my nose,’ he gasped.

‘Good,’ said Dylan brusquely, putting a hand up to his cheek which was starting to ooze blood where Carter had caught him with his signet ring. ‘I’ll break your legs if you don’t leave. And if you take the van I’m calling the police to report it stolen. Now piss off and if I ever catch you within ten miles of Edie, I’ll kill you.’

For once Carter had no snappy comeback. I was opening and shutting my mouth and wondering why no sound was coming out as Dylan took hold of my hand and pulled me down the corridor.

The second that we got into the room and shut the door whatever adrenalin that had been pumping through Dylan’s veins seemed to evaporate and his shoulders slumped as he staggered to the bathroom. I could hear him throwing up a moment later.

Dylan was leaning over the loo on his knees as I bent down to rub his back.

‘Hey Dylan,’ I whispered. ‘It’s all right. You defeated the evil Carter monster and saved the world for, like, democracy and stuff.’

Dylan wiped his hand across his mouth and sat back on the floor. ‘That was meant to be my line,’ he said with a weak grin. ‘That was kind of scary back there, wasn’t it?’

I nodded. ‘Scary to the power of one hundred,’ I elaborated. ‘You should have a bath or something and eat… we should eat… I’ll sort that out.’ And then I left the room because everything that had happened in the last hour had left me so freaked out, I was going to lose it in a pretty spectacular way if I stayed.

I curled up on the bed and thought about ringing The Mothership but knew that the minute I heard her voice, I’d revert to a mental age of three so I phoned Room Service instead and asked them to send up some food and more Diet Coke. Then I phoned Shona to let her know that the apocalypse had kind of been averted.

By that time Dylan was out of the bathroom. He seemed to have got himself under control. I was flicking through the channels on the television ’cause I might have been upset but, hey, they had all the movie channels, when he sat down on the edge of the bed furthest away from me. He was only wearing his jeans and not much else. I watched the muscles in his back shifting and gliding as he towelled his hair dry. And the reason why I was so antsy became obvious. Carter was history but now it was me and Dylan in a hotel room and the sight of his chest and the way his jeans hung low on his hips… I mean I could just reach out a hand and I’d be touching him…

I flung myself off the bed and reached for my bag. Dylan looked at me in surprise.

‘I’m going to have a bath,’ I said in the same way you might say, ‘There’s a plane about to crash land on our house.’

‘You all right?’ Dylan asked me, looking as if he thought I’d finally flipped.

‘Yes!’ I practically screeched. ‘There’s food coming, you stay here.’

And I ran bathroomwards.

I’d been immersed in bubbles for ten minutes when Dylan knocked.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he said through the door.

‘You can’t come in!’ I yelped.

‘I know.’ He sounded like he was trying not to laugh. ‘The food’s here. They’ve brought champagne, on the house ’cause it’s the honeymoon suite or something.’

‘That’s nice,’ I said distractedly.

‘I could sit here and chat to you if you like,’ suggested Dylan still in that amused voice.

‘OK,’ I agreed in a small voice.

I never thought I’d have a conversation with Dylan while I was stark naked. It seemed indecent somehow even though there was a door between us. I told him what had gone down with Carter and he told me that Veronique had climbed out of the poo pit and chased him back to the tents but he’d been determined to outrun her ’cause she had muck all over her. Then she’d got changed, flung all her smelly clothes into the campfire and made Carter give her a lift to the station.

‘He told me he’d taken the van without anyone knowing,’ I chimed in.

‘He would,’ said Dylan darkly. ‘We thought you were still on the site. It wasn’t until later that Poppy realised you’d taken your backpack.’

‘You know me, act first, think later,’ I said and Dylan laughed.

‘Why are you laughing?’ I asked.

‘It was the expression on Veronique’s face when you pushed her and she realised where she was going to land,’ he said in between what sounded suspiciously like giggles. I didn’t know Dylan even knew how to giggle.

‘Well she deserved it,’ I muttered.

‘I almost forgot about that,’ Dylan said. ‘Is your tummy all right?’

I looked at my stomach through the bubbles, it looked like there was a big cloudy bruise emerging on the surface. ‘It’s a bit tender,’ I replied. ‘How do you know if you have, like, internal bleeding?’

There was a pause and then Dylan said in such a sultry voice that it made my toes curl, ‘Hmm, I’ll have to have a look at that later.’

I looked up at the ceiling and then slid under the water where I didn’t have to think about the ramifications of what he’d said.

I’d just finished rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when Dylan knocked on the door. ‘Have you drowned?’

‘I’ll be out in five minutes,’ I said, although part of me wanted to stay in there all night and the other part of me wanted to get the hell out of there and jump Dylan’s bones.

Conflict, thy name is Edie.

I pulled on my pink spotty pyjama bottoms and a black camisole vest which were the only clean clothes I had left and forced myself to open the door.

Dylan was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, still wearing just his jeans, and sipping champagne.

He gave me a lazy smile. ‘Hey you,’ he said softly.

‘Hey yourself,’ I murmured, hitching up my pyjama bottoms as they settled on my hips. Dylan looked at me with interest.

‘Do you need a hand there?’ he asked, arching an eyebrow provocatively.

‘I’m having elastic problems,’ I scowled, circling the bed warily. Maybe I could sit on a chair. In fact, maybe I could sleep on a chair but Dylan patted the bed. It looked very inviting. He looked very inviting.

‘C’mon, I won’t bite,’ he was saying. There was another pause. ‘Well, not unless you want me to.’

‘Stop being so, so… seductive,’ I bit out crossly, climbing onto the bed and making sure I kept a safe distance away from him.

Dylan stretched out an arm and pulled the food trolley nearer.

‘Do you want something to eat?’

I considered the question. I couldn’t kiss him if I was eating. But then were we going to be kissing? It seemed like we were getting to the point where kissing was going to be entirely necessary.

‘There’s chips,’ Dylan said cajolingly. ‘They’re still hot.’

I scrambled towards him and investigated dinner then sat cross-legged while I ate chips and drank champagne. It was so decadent. Dylan rolled onto his back and watched me as I washed down the rest of the chips with what was left in my glass.

‘So you’ve finished eating, what are we going to do now?’ he wanted to know as I stole a hungry glance at the way his chest rose as he spoke.

I lay down next to him, keeping a foot of bed between us and figured I might as well try and get some sleep. But it was like that thing you do when you clasp your fingers together and try to keep your thumbs apart. Slowly but surely our bodies inched towards the middle of the bed and then I could feel Dylan’s arm pressing against my side. It seemed to burn where it touched me.

I gave a desperate groan and flung myself on top of him. Dylan was very obliging as I wound myself around him, I wanted to bury myself inside him. I smothered his face in kisses; his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks and then I bit his lower lip gently between my teeth.

That was my undoing. Dylan suddenly moved so I was trapped beneath him and he caught my mouth in a deep kiss. My lips parted as he traced the contours of my mouth with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside.

They were long, languorous kisses that tasted of hot summer afternoons. But then Dylan moaned into my mouth and I couldn’t help but arch up against him and everything changed. Became fiercer and faster and inevitable.

We toppled off the bed onto the floor, clothes getting tugged away, both of us desperate not to lose contact with the other. Dylan ran a hand down my body.