When morning came, it was easy to pretend to be too hungover for morning sex with Aaron. However, he was so bloody sweet that he brought me breakfast in bed. As I nibbled on some toast I realised that I was in fact very hungover. I drank as much orange juice as my body would allow. Though I was far from drunk, my head was definitely still swimming.
In the daylight, my actions of the night before seemed ludicrous, almost like I'd been someone else. Like I'd been possessed by some other woman who was selfish and reckless. Slowly, the guilt began to creep in. I'd just had sex with another man while on holiday with my boyfriend.
I had had sex with another guy in my boyfriend's parents summer home, with my boyfriend sleeping in the next room.
My eyes began to brim with tears. I buried my head in my pillow. I had no idea how I was going to tell Aaron. I knew that I had to tell him, but I dreaded it. A small part of me wondered how long I could get away with keeping it a secret. I dried my eyes, finished the rest of my toast and tried to push the events from last night out of my head.
Aaron had packed up his Mercedes to go back to the city. I got dressed and went out to the driveway to see Harry sitting in the backseat. Natasha was in the front.
"What's up?" I asked. Natasha rolled down her window.
"I'm not talking to him," she said and I looked over at Aaron.
"I figured you'd want to rest since you didn't feel good this morning. And," he whispered, "it sounds like they had quite the blow out last night. It should be better for everyone if they're separated, okay babe?" He kissed me on the forehead.
Nodding, I looked at Harry who was slumped in the back. He was in a pair of denim shorts, a white tee and sunglasses. His arms looked amazing as he relaxed his head back into his hands. He peered at me over the top of his sunglasses and I quickly glanced back, but refused to fully look at him. Then I got into the other side of the backseat and placed my bag between us. Curled up against my side, I closed my eyes.
Try as I might, I couldn't sleep. I just did my best to keep my body away from Harry's. I had to glue my eyes shut as I heard snatches of boring conversation between Aaron and Natasha as they tried to make small talk. They talked about television shows, the weather, the roads. When they moved into vegans vs vegetarians, I cracked my eyes open and mapped how long we had left on my mobile. Forty-five minutes. Thank goodness.
When the car arrived in Croydon, I occasionally opened my eyes and counted the streets as we got closer to the flat. Once we finally pulled up, I grabbed my handbag and hopped out of the car. The clouds looked heavy. Thankfully Aaron grabbed my handbag from me and took it up to my room.
Natasha was sulking in the front seat, glued to her phone, while Harry threw her stuff out of the boot of the car and onto the kerb. I kept my gaze down, barrelled past them and followed Aaron upstairs.
"Aaron?" I yelled after him.
"In here," he yelled from my room. I followed his voice to see everything unpacked and set up for me. There was even a glass of water and painkillers on my nightstand. "Do you need a bucket? It's fine if you do, that was a long car ride."
"No, that's alright. Thank you,"
He held me sweetly in his arms and kissed my forehead before asking, "Do you want me to stay with you?"
"No. I'm gonna be cranky all day while I nurse this hangover," I said, burying myself in the crook of his neck. I couldn't quite look at his face and I hated how comforting he was.
"Ok. Call me in a few hours," he said as he nuzzled my hair, "I want to make sure you're well. Alright?"
"Yes." I smiled weakly.
"You promise?"
"Yes." He insisted on tucking me into bed and then he left.
Once he left, I felt like I could finally breathe deeply again. I let myself settle into my bed and relax. However, the moment I did, my mind began to boil over. The events from last night raced through my head. As I shifted around in my bed, I could feel the marks Harry left on my body.
My hips were sore and my abs hurt. I swear I could still smell him on me. Just the memory of him was making me aroused. My knickers were starting to pool. I shifted uncomfortably under my sheets. I hated how hot the mere recollection was getting me. I tried to push it out of my mind and focus on sleeping instead.
I'd just begun to close my eyes when I heard a knock on my door. I ignored it. I was in no mood to deal with Harry.
"Vivian? It's Harry."
"I know." He opened the door. "I didn't say you could come in."
He settled against the door frame. "We have to talk."
"I can't right now," I said, trying to shut him down.
"Yes, you can,"
"I'm tired, confused and hungover. No talking." I rolled deeper into my coverlet.
"Vivian, I want to apologise for being an arse this weekend. You were right."
"Thank you. Now leave me alone."
I heard him sigh. The floor creaked as he began to leave, then he stated, "I meant it."
"Meant what?"
"What I said last night." My heart dropped into my stomach and instantly, my defenses went up.
"What? That I was finally hot enough for you to want to fuck because I was drunk and wearing provocative clothes?"
"No, that's not it Vivian, I—" he started but I kept going.
"Yes it is," I interrupted, "Point taken. Fuck you too Harry," I spat.
"Is that what you think of me, Vivian?"
His face grew distant and stony, which only made me soften my approach; I had to be the one to put a bow on the situation. I had to be the one to make it better.
"Listen, I was drunk and you were drunk and angry—"
"And?" he asked, his eyes steady, refusing to give me any hint of what he was thinking.
"And it was a mistake. Friends accidentally have sex all the time," I finished.
"Friends don't accidentally fuck the way we did." His lips broke into a slight smile. His eyes seemed to focus on something far away, most likely our time together last night.
"No, Harry," I said, firmly, pulling him out of his day dream, "I'd rather we just forget about what happened and move on. Okay?"
"Forget about it?" he repeated, confused.
"Yes," I stated, "What else can we do?"
He stared at me for a moment.
"We could keep doing what we did last night," he suggested, "We could start in your room, then my room, the kitchen," he teased. He dug his thumbs into the waist of his shorts, showing off his lower abs.
"Harry, I don't..." I tried to interrupt him, but got lost imagining his body against mine.
He eased himself off the door frame and settled on the edge of my bed. His hand quickly found my foot and he slowly began to trace his fingers up my leg. The heat between us was still palpable. I was quickly falling into the fantasy.
"The bathroom, the living room, the hallway," he continued, holding my eyes with his as his hand reached my thigh. He paused and just studied me for a second, trying to read my face. Then he continued, nonchalantly, "No strings attached, Vivian. No pressure. We can still be friends, just friends with–"
"Benefits?"
"Exactly." He smiled. The mere idea of it had my anger rushing and toppling all my other senses.
"No!" I yelled and kicked his hand off me. "No, I won't–I can't–I'm not," I fumbled to find the words, "I have someone Harry," I said firmly, "and I'm not going to jeopardise that."
"Anymore than you already have?" Harry replied flippantly and got off my bed.
"Please Harry. Please," I begged, "We made a mistake. Let's just forget about it." He refused to look at me as he rested, once more, against my doorway.
"Sure," he mumbled, "I can forget. Easy."
With that he left, firmly closing my door behind him. I turned back over into my bed and closed my eyes until, finally, I slept.
•••
"So you and Harry are..." I probed.
"Back together," Natasha continued, finishing my sentence for me.
We were standing outside my building. Both of our bags were full of new pages from one of our artists. I had offered to work at her place, or to stay in the office, but she insisted on coming over. The office was a nightmare right now, her place was cramped and messy, so my place was the only option.
It had been a week since the madness of the Sandbanks. I was still torn up about it and it killed me that I couldn't confide in Natasha. I'd been avoiding Aaron by throwing myself into my work. I'd been treating Harry like he had the plague. I hadn't even really talked to Natasha until she cornered me and insisted on a girls or work night.
"Well, Harry isn't here. He's at work or at least he is supposed to be," I said as I opened the door.
We settled inside in the living room and spread the pages out on the floor. By the time they were all laid out, I could barely see the floor anymore. This was going to be a long night.
"That's fine." She smiled, "I've seen him a lot this week. He has more than made up for being a prick," she continued suggestively.
"That's good," I said, quickly, hoping not to stay on that topic for too long.
"How are things with you and Prince Charming?" she asked.
"Aaron? Things...could–are...going along just fine," I struggled, trying to sound positive, but I was a terrible liar.
"What's going on?" she asked. I shook my head. "Trouble in the bedroom?" she tried.
"No, its nothing. I'm just so busy at work that I don't get to see him all that much," I answered, hoping that would get her off the topic. Suddenly, we heard keys in the door. Harry was back from work early.
"Hello?" I asked, vainly hoping that it could possibly be someone else.
"It's me," he answered.
"Natasha and I are working in the living room. There are prints everywhere. Be careful," I relayed the information coldly and succinctly.
After our talk a week ago, Harry had been annoyingly mean and snarky. Anytime Aaron was brought up, he became downright unmanageable. Harry carefully entered the living room, sticking to the sides to avoid walking on the prints. Natasha jumped up and hopscotched over to him.
I quickly glanced over to see her playfully pin him against the wall and push up on him for a kiss. She had her arms around his neck and his arms were around her waist. Once she broke the kiss, she leaned in to his ear and whispered something that made him smile. I felt myself begin to bristle and my glance turned into a stare. He pulled her back in for a kiss and she melted in his arms.
Suddenly, Harry caught my stare. My cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and anger. He just locked his eyes with mine and pulled Natasha closer to him. While he stared at me, his hands groped her body and then, he kissed her deeply. I heard a small moan from Natasha. The message was clear. Even though he was kissing her, he was imagining me. Finally, Natasha pushed him off of her.
"Oh my God, Harry," she said, trying to catch her breath, "That was quite a hello," she breathed. He quickly looked back at her and smiled.
"I missed you." He playfully smacked her bum before he went to his room to put his bag down.
Natasha stared after him, still dazed and incredibly turned on. I looked back down to my work. It was clutched in my hands. Surprised, I let it go and began to smooth the pages. I let my hair fall in my face to cover my expression. I was jealous. I was insanely jealous. I wanted to tear her off of him.
Flustered, I got up and mumbled something about getting water before I scurried into the kitchen. I grabbed a glass and turned on the sink. For a moment, I just watched the water run. The racing beat of my heart was slowing down and my burning anger settling. What was that? I filled my glass and turned off the water. I was about to head back to the living room when I heard Natasha giggling.
From the kitchen I peered out and saw the two of them intertwined on the sofa. He had changed out of his work clothes and was in shorts and t-shirt. He was whispering something in her ear that was making her laugh. He had his hands on her perfect thighs and her hands were under his shirt.
I turned back around and sat on the counter, looking out the window in the kitchen. I slowly sipped my water and just let myself breathe. My blood was boiling. I said no to Harry. I didn't want that. I didn't want him. That was what I had been telling myself. That was what was comforting me.
I began to plot the fastest way for me get back to my room. Or possibly find a reason to step out of the flat for a bit. When I thought...Why did I have to be the one to leave? I needed to find what to say to them, or better yet, yell, to get them out of the living room.
While I rehearsed the ways I was going to verbally tear into Harry, I finished my water and started rinsing out the glass. Then I heard a knock and I turned. It was Harry. He was shirtless now. I hated how good he looked without his shirt. I turned back to the sink, refusing to look at him a second longer.
"You alright in here?" he asked. He sounded smug. He knew that he had got to me.
"I'm fine," I mumbled. "Just taking a break." I started to wash whatever there was in the sink. Anything not to look at him.
"To do the dishes?" he asked, "I know how much you hate doing dishes. Is this project really that hard?" he teased.
I was silent. I just stayed focused on the dishes in the sink. He began to root around the kitchen. In the cramped space he had to reach around me a few times. He took every opportunity to assert his presence. I slid around to avoid contact.
"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked sternly, turning to look him in the face. I refused to let my eyes drift lower.
He stepped closer to me. "Wine opener," he said, "I think it's here."
He reached past my hips, grabbed the drawer behind me and pulled it, forcing me forward against him. My focus was on his face and his on mine. Yet, even though I wasn't looking at his body, I could feel it.
His skin was hot and soft against mine. He smelt amazing. As his hand felt through the drawer behind me, my breathing grew heavier. I tried to lean away, but there was nowhere to go. I didn't know how much more I could take.
"Found it," he whispered and produced the wine opener from behind me. I quickly closed the drawer, turned around and pulled away from him.
As I turned, my bum brushed over his crotch and I felt how aroused he was. Before he could say anything, I said, "be sure to bring me any dishes that are in your room," and plunged my hands back into the soapy water.
"Sure," he said as he turned and left.
Beyond horny, my legs could barely keep me up and worse, I had suckered myself into doing all the dishes in the flat. I hated him for getting me so wound up. I hated that I let him get me so wound up.
As I scrubbed a pot something else came to me. If he had this effect on me, I'm sure I had the same effect on him. I smiled. He had picked the wrong girl to mess with. If he was going tease me, then I was going to torture him.