Page 58 of The Fall-Out

‘Quite right too.’ He grinned. ‘Like a proper rocker.’

‘Goths aren’t rockers, though,’ I argued. ‘Aren’t they meant to get high on amphetamines and… I don’t know. Misery?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t feel miserable tonight. Not a bit. Makes a nice change.’

What did he mean? Was he talking about the loneliness of working offshore for weeks at a time, or something else? Did he know about Zara’s infidelity? Had she taken my advice and told him, or had he guessed? Or was it about something else entirely?

I didn’t know. But I was distracted from my bewilderment by a sudden awareness of the pain in my feet. While we were dancing, I’d been able to ignore it, but now it came back with renewed force.

‘Ouch.’ I winced, stumbling slightly so I cannoned into him. ‘My feet really, really hurt. These shoes are a size too small.’

‘Problem. We’ve missed the last Tube, so we’ll have to get a bus. Or a taxi, I guess.’

We’d paused now, leaning on a railing overlooking the canal, waiting for the crowd around us to thin. It was almost but not quite raining, a light drizzle shivering the dark water below us, the reflections of the lights blurry and indistinct.

‘I’m going to have to take them off.’

‘Or I can carry you. But first…’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hip flask, handing it to me. It was warm from his body. I unscrewed the cap and took a sip, fiery bourbon searing my throat.

‘You came prepared,’ I said.

‘Think of me as a Saint Bernard dog, rescuing stranded goths from the streets of London.’

I laughed. ‘Isn’t it water they carry? This is better, though.’

I returned the flask to him and he said, ‘Cheers. To an amazing night.’

‘And friendship.’

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I didn’t feel friendly towards him right in that moment – I felt something else entirely, and what it was made me no friend at all to Zara.

I took the hip flask and had another gulp. The spirit went down more easily that time, pleasantly warming rather than blazingly harsh. Then I passed it back to him.

He hesitated, took another drink and cleared his throat. ‘If I say something, promise you won’t be offended?’

‘Yeah, like I’m going to get the hump and hobble off into the rain.’

‘Fair point. Not a bad strategy, actually – when you want to tell a woman something and you’re not sure how it’s going to land, make sure she’s wearing shoes she can’t walk in.’

‘Exactly – talk about a captive audience. So go ahead.’

I had no idea what he was going to say – I genuinely didn’t. But something in me must have sensed it would be important, because I felt my breath coming faster and my heart beating hard in my chest.

‘I’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as you do now, with eyeliner all over your face,’ he said.

And all at once, something inside me changed – only it wasn’t really a change but a thing that had been there for ages, which I’d become so used to burying and denying I’d become able to pretend it wasn’t there. My desire for him sprang out like the shoots of a long-dormant seed, or a chemical reaction that had needed just the right conditions in the test tube to make it happen.

I didn’t think about it – I wasn’t capable of thought. I just swivelled my body around and took a step closer to him, so I could feel the warmth of him.

‘If I kissed you, would that be a really terrible idea?’ I whispered.

‘Probably,’ he said, his face gently leaning towards mine.

And then he kissed me.

TWENTY-TWO

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