Irresistible (17 page)

“Good Lord,” says Jeff. “We should call an ambulance.”

“Can we meet it somewhere?” says Jamie. “If my parents find out she’s been near drugs, they’ll … I can’t drive her. I’ve been drinking.” His voice dries up.

“Right. Okay. Right,” says Jeff. “Okay. Get in.”

I meet Jamie’s eye as I walk around the car, but it seems like he’s looking right through me.

Jeff revs the engine as Jamie lays Dezzie out on the back seat so that her head is in his lap.

“Oh, I’ll just take you there. It will be quicker,” mutters Jeff.

“I didn’t know who else to ask,” says Jamie quietly. He stares at Dezzie the whole way there.

I watch him in the side mirror. He looks terrified. I would
be too, if anything bad happened to Matthew. I wonder if that’s what Jeff is thinking. His knuckles have turned white on the steering wheel. I’ve never seen him drive this fast. Usually he makes a point of going ten miles per hour below the speed limit.

Near the hospital is a whole confusion of one-way streets and ambulance-only routes, so Jamie gets out and starts carrying Dezzie to the entrance while we try to navigate our way to the parking lot.

Jeff goes to pay, and when he leans back into the car to put the ticket in the window, I burst into tears.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine. A stomach pump at most, I imagine. She wouldn’t be the first.”

I nod, but keep on crying. I don’t tell him I’m crying about everything. Everything that’s happened since I started this job. I’m even crying with shame at the fact that I’m still upset about my selfish little dramas when something real like this is going on.

Jeff stays there, half out of the car with one knee on the seat, rubbing my back for a while. He must be really uncomfortable. Then he goes to see what’s going on.

I sit, waiting in the car, barely moving.

Jeff comes back first, saying he couldn’t find them. He looks around worriedly, with his hand on the side of the car, but then we see them both walking back through the parking lot.

Dezzie is walking, but she looks shaky and upset. It was just alcohol, apparently, no drugs. Dezzie protests in a small voice that she didn’t have very much, and Jeff replies, “For someone of your size, it doesn’t need to be very much.”

On the drive back to Radleigh, Dezzie sits hugging her knees and looking out the window.

“You can sleep in the pool house. If any of your stupid little friends are still there, I’m kicking them out,” says Jamie darkly.

As they’re climbing back out of the car, Jamie puts his hand on the back of Jeff’s seat. “Thank you, Jeff.”

Then he looks over at me. His eyes are shining, all of the usual performance stripped away.

“I hope she’s okay,” I say quietly.

He nods, and is gone.

An hour later, I’m in bed in my pajamas. Awake.

My phone buzzes.

I’m outside. Can you let me in?

As I’m opening the front door, Jeff appears at the top of the stairs.

“Jamie, you’re back,” he says groggily.

“Hattie and Harri are keeping a vigil at her bedside.” Jamie’s voice is croaky. “There wasn’t room at the pool house. And I felt … a bit …”

“In need of some tea?” says Jeff.

Five minutes later Jamie is presented with a mug. Jeff says that he can stay over.

“On the sofa,” he adds as he goes up the stairs.

I listen to the pad of his slippers as he gets to the bedroom and can’t help smiling for a second when I catch Jamie’s eye.

“Can you sit with me while I drink my tea?”

“Um, yeah.”

I sit on the edge of the chair opposite the sofa and look past him. Thoughts are whizzing back and forth in my brain faster than I can process them.

“I didn’t show the photo of you,” he says suddenly.

I look at him then. “I saw you.”

He shakes his head. “It was a video. Just some random crap I found. The kind of thing that amuses them.”

“Cleo brought it up the next day. I thought it was because you’d shown everyone.”

“I did show her,” he admits. “On the day I got Kieran to give it to me. She defended you. Said I was a sick, twisted bastard.”

“You are,” I mutter.

“I’ve deleted it,” he says. “You can check.” He slides his
phone across the floor. I don’t pick it up. It’s easier to hate him.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.”

I look up at him. His eyes are glistening. He frowns and swallows. “I don’t know—” His voice cracks.

I dig my fingernails into my knees. I don’t want to look at him. Something I’ve been keeping hidden is breaking through. Something fierce and powerful. I can feel it humming in my chest, and I want to drown it out.

I keep looking at the floor. I don’t know if he’s looking at me or not.

“I’m different with you.”

I fiddle with my fingers. Eventually I let my eyes move upward and meet his.

“Mia, I’m in love with you.”

It’s the change in his expression. He looks upset and unsure and scared. I realize that he doesn’t know what I’m going to say back. When he was standing outside the pool house and he claimed to know that I loved him, it was all a front. He doesn’t know how I feel.

I suppose I haven’t really admitted it to myself.

My answer is to move across to the sofa and sit next to him. He turns to look at me, his eyebrows still knitted in uncertainty.

I lean over and kiss him.

We creep into my room. I click the door closed and slide the lock across.

We stand facing each other at the end of my single bed.

I try to steady my breathing. “I haven’t … Well, I have sort of, but I don’t really know …”

“It’s okay,” he says and kisses me again. The kissing is delicate and tentative this time, every movement of our hands sending ripples of pleasure across my skin as I think of what’s about to happen.

He takes off his shirt and shorts and I take off my pajamas, but we collapse into giggles when my foot gets caught in the leg. I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly hit with the thought that I’m naked and this time he can see me. I look up at him. He reaches his hand through my hair and says, “You’re beautiful.” Then he takes his boxers off and he’s naked too.

I take his hand and pull him down on top of me. I can feel every bit of him pressed onto me as we kiss and he runs his hands along my body.

Gently, he moves his hand down and touches me. I bite my lip to keep from moaning as his fingers slide in and out. I feel the sweetness again, starting to spread over me in waves. But he stops. He reaches down to the side of the bed where his shorts are and pulls out his wallet.

A few moments later, he runs his hand through my hair and his face is close to mine as he starts to push into me. I turn my head toward him, and at first he’s leaning on my hair. There’s nervous laughter and whispered apologies as we try to keep quiet while we move around. And then he pushes right in and I gasp. Slowly at first, and then faster. The sweet feeling changes to something deeper that builds and builds. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and arch my back.

I wake up with my face against the wall, and I think for a moment that I’m trapped in some sort of box. Then I remember that Jamie’s in my bed. With some effort, I turn around so I’m on my back. I look at his face. His eyelids are fluttering, and I wonder what he’s dreaming about. I take in every detail of him. His messy hair, particularly so this morning. His stubble. His mouth hanging open slightly. Despite it all, I feel calm for the first time in months. Nervous, maybe, because I know this changes everything, but I just have this underlying sense that everything has fallen into place.

Then his nose twitches, which makes me snort with laughter, and that in turn wakes him up. He peers at me and frowns.

“’Morning, Joseph,” he says through a yawn. He squints at the clock on my bedside table. “Six? What’s wrong with you?”

“Shh. You have to sneak back downstairs soon.”

He exhales. “Not yet.” He pulls me over so that I have my head on his chest.

“Do you know when I realized?” he asked.

“Realized what?”

“I realized I loved you when you woke up really grumpy on my sofa, looking like you’d died.”

I dig him in the stomach. “Hey!” But when I rest my head on his chest again, I’m smiling.

“What happens now?”

Jamie shifts under me and breathes in.

The tinkling melody that’s been playing in my head since I woke up suddenly goes off key.

“There’ll need to be some conversations.”

“Yeah.”

It’s my turn to squirm. I have to tell Dan I can’t go to Paris anymore. I get a pang of disappointment as the image of us running for the train fades. We were going to arrive at six in the morning and have coffee on the steps of Notre Dame Cathedral before anyone was awake.

“Can we go somewhere?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can we go away?”

“We have a house in Nice.”

“No, not like that. I mean just us. And backpacks. And wandering around a city before anyone else is awake.”

“I can assure you that I will never wear a ‘backpack.’”

We fall silent again.

“Can I take a photo?” he says.

I flinch.

“Not that kind of photo! Our faces. To remember this.”

I look up at him.

“You have a sentimental side, then?”

He frowns. “Yes. You bring out the worst in me, Joseph.”

He lifts the phone up and angles it toward us.

Our faces. Mine on his bare chest. The edges of the duvet.

When he’s sliding out of the bed and putting his clothes on again, I draw the covers up to my chin. I’m still feeling oddly calm.

He sits on the bed to put his socks on. I prop my head up on my hand and watch him. Then I lean over and kiss him on the shoulder. He turns his head, puts his hand on my cheek, and we kiss. The excitement I’ve felt since I first saw him is now mingled with a surging happiness.

Then I hear the creak of the front gate. I slip out of bed and go to the window, dragging the duvet with me to cover myself up.

I see him walking quickly along the sidewalk. It’s a familiar image.

Slowly and unstoppably, doubts start to seep in.

I clench my teeth together, still staring out the window. What if he goes back to Cleo? Dan doesn’t know the full extent of what’s been going on. Cleo does. Well, a lot of it. She’s been watching it happen. She welcomed me into their clique, and then I did everything she asked me not to right in front of her.

The guilt I’m feeling is hollow. I’ve got nothing to say except sorry.

I want to stay in bed as long as possible.

I feel like if I do, then the day hasn’t really started yet. I don’t have to tell anyone about Jamie. I can just think about him. He loves me. Doesn’t he? I slide down under the covers and make a sort of cave. It’s warm and smells like him.

I drift off to sleep again and when I wake up, I almost inhale my duvet.

I try reading for a bit, but can’t focus. I keep reading the same paragraph. I wonder if I could call the house phone and persuade Matthew to bring me food. As I’m picking up my phone, it vibrates with a text from Gabi.

Check Facebook

My account has been hacked.

A steady, sick feeling pulses through me as my profile picture loads. It’s me and Jamie. The one he took this
morning. My head on his chest. The edges of the duvet. Very clearly in bed together.

My mouth feels dry, my body light and dizzy with panic. I don’t know what I’m going to find.

Mia Joseph OMG, finally slept with Jamie last night. SO in love ;)

Mia Joseph READ THIS!
Miaslutguide.blogspot.com

Cleo Farah likes this

Desdemona Katherine Elliot-Fox likes this
Desdemona Katherine Elliot-Fox wasn’t I good? lol

I click the link.

Hey guys!!!

I’m Mia. And I’m going to tell you how to be a slut. It’s easy. Like me!!!

1. Get a job in a place that gives you access to eligible men.

Or just men. I’m not picky LOL!

Really, I’m not.

I went for Radleigh Castle. The men there are rich too, so it gave me the chance to get into their wallets as well as their pants.

2. Start with something less of a challenge, i.e., someone common and dumb.

I picked Dan David the kitchen boy.

(Warning: simpleminded boys like these can get a little attached—use them for a couple of weeks and they’ll be
making you picnics and inviting you to Paris acting like a total stalker.)

3. Select your target. If you have a deluded opinion of your own hotness, like I do, then you’ll aim high. Like your employer’s son.

That’s right, I went there!!! MegaLOLZ

4. Show him that you’re
desperate eager. It’s a technique I like to call “slutting around being a slut.” Luckily, you don’t need a brain for this, just the willingness to get off with girls, get naked in his swimming pool, and basically wave your vagina around until you get some attention.

5. Be willing to believe anything.

Some examples:

That his sister has passed out and he needs your help. (Can’t believe I fell for that!!)

That caring for his sister means there’s a sweet side to him (facepalm!)

That he is in love with you.

6. You win! You’ve had sex with him. Yaaaaayy. Sadly it didn’t mean anything and you won’t hear from him again, but whatev, you’ve still succeeded in being a total slut.

P.S. It never does any harm to circulate a few naked pics. Sorry, I mean for “your ex-boyfriend to send them around without your knowledge.” ;)

I hold my breath, waiting to see the photo, but the page ends there. He must have really deleted the picture.

This is Cleo. I know it. But Jamie must have sent her the photo.

All the progress, all the things that have made me feel
good or worth something since Kieran, all the things I’d piled up into a tower inside to make me feel strong, sway and come crashing to the ground. I’m back where I was three months ago. No control.