Page 32 of Love, Just In

Two arms slide around my waist from behind, and I nearly shriek but then will myself to relax a little into Lindsay. It’s been months since I’ve felt a man’s touch, and at least he’s keeping me warm.

‘You want to come and check out Merewether?’ he says into my ear. His breath smells like bourbon, which I don’t hate, and the cold frame of his glasses skims my cheek.

I smile and shake my head. ‘Not coming home with you tonight.’

‘Meaning you will on another night?’

He guides me around to face him, but before I can find eye contact, his mouth has already landed on mine.Ohh-kay, then.

His lips are needy and a little too forceful for the sleepy mood the wine’s left me in. But I let his tongue sink into my mouth while his palms glide down my lower back and settle on my backside, giving it a light squeeze. For half a minute, I lose myself in the kiss, considering whether I like the taste of him. I do, but when his hardening length makes itself known against my thigh, I detach from him and take a step back.

‘Sorry,’ he says, his cheeks pinking. He pulls off his foggy glasses and wipes them on his shirt.

‘It’s OK.’ To reassure him, I stretch on my toes to press a short kiss to his lips. ‘Car’s here. Gotta go.’

‘I’ll call you, babe,’ Lindsay says, looking a little glowy-eyed while his fingers cling to mine for as long as they can.

As the car pulls away, I relax into the seat and pull out my phone, finding a friend request from Meghan Mackay.

My gut tenses, but I tell myself not to be a competitive bitch and accept the request. Her profile unlocks, flooding my feed with images. The latest is a selfie of her sitting at the news desk with a smile wider than the circumference of the earth. Reminding myself that I should be happy for her rather than envious, I continue scrolling.

Her previous post is a string of images filled with my best friend’s face. Meghan and Zac are sitting on one side of a restaurant table, and I can tell she’s forced him to be in these pics, which draws an affectionate chuckle to my throat. I swipe left—god, how many did she take?—until I reach the last photo. It’s a selfie of Meghan burrowed into Zac’s chest as they cuddle up on a leather couch. The band posters on the wall behind them have me guessing it’s the live music bar they went to the other night. Zac’s arm is draped around Meghan’s shoulder, his fingers threaded with hers, his hazel eyes shining.

I back out of the app entirely.

The Uber drops me off, and I fumble to connect my front door key with the lock while I sway on my feet, praying that the dull bass reverberating through my skull isn’t coming from our house.

I step inside, and for half a second, I think I’ve stumbled onto a porn film set. A woman is lying spread-eagled on our couch with a guy’s head buried between her thighswhile Davide stands watching, butt-naked, with his dick in his hand.

Oh. My. God.

The house music’s too loud for any of them to have heard me come in, and I silently back out the door until I’m left shivering on the footpath. Tears rise in my eyes, and my phone shakes in my hand.

What do I do? What the hell do I do!

My fingers quiver against my ear as I call Zac, but his phone rings out.

Shit.

I can’t call Lola this late on a weeknight when I’m still getting to know her, especially on the day she buried her grandmother. I consider ringing Lindsay, but the thought of his hands on me after what I’ve just seen makes me want to retch.

After trying Zac again, I book another Uber to take me to the nearest roadside motel.

A moment later, rosé shoots up into my throat and spills into the gutter.

CHAPTER 11

Thirteen years ago

‘I kissed Damien.’

The whites of Zac’s eyes expand in the darkness, the moonlight casting stripes of silvery blue light over our blankets as it shines through the window blinds.

I wait for the questions from my best friend.

What was it like?

Was he a good kisser?

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