Page 61 of A Seaside Escape
Chapter Twelve
Over two hours later Mallory helped Greg upstairs into his bedroom. She figured that undressing him was probably inappropriate considering recent events and settled for pulling off his boots and pulling the duvet over him.
‘Mallory?’ Greg whispered as Mallory put his boots together under his bed.
Mallory sat beside him on the bed. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m not sorry,’ Greg mumbled.
‘Not sorry about what?’ He had a lot to be sorry for this evening, but clearly, he disagreed.
‘For kissing you.’
Mallory shook her head as she stood and walked towards the door. She switched off the light and, without speaking, left him to sleep off his alcohol-fuelled stupor.
*
She had set her alarm so that she could get up and go to Greg’s house early to check up on him. Once awake, she showered and pulled on her dark blue jeans and a lilac T-shirt, gave Ruby a cuddle and set off for Greg’s.
She opened Greg’s front door and called his name. He didn’t answer. Most of the rooms of his home were on the ground floor, but there was an en-suite bedroom upstairs where Greg slept and where she had deposited him the night before.
He had simple taste and most of his furniture appeared to have come from junk shops giving it a very eclectic feel. There was an old-fashioned jukebox in one corner of the lounge which he had repaired and converted to play CDs. He wasn’t one for modern technology, insisting that music was best listened to live but that vinyl or CD was close enough. He didn’t own an iPod or any other MP3 player and still believed in buying from record shops rather than online. He was such a traditionalist. The jukebox was full of his favourite bands and as she flicked through the discs, Mallory was quite amazed at the variety of music he owned. From Dougie MacLean to Tool, Queens of The Stoneage and A Perfect Circle and most of it pre-dated 2010.
She walked up the stairs to his room and pushed open the door. He was laid; spread-eagled, face down on the bed.
And he was butt. Naked.
He must have got up after she left and removed his clothes. His buttocks were shapely and muscular, and his back was defined, almost sculpted. She paused and closed her eyes briefly, mentally chastising herself for noticing. To save his dignity, she pulled the covers over his lower half and gently stroked his hair to try and wake him. He rolled to his side and opened his eyes slowly and when he realised it was Mallory he sat bolt upright exposing a little more of his nakedness. Mallory gasped and averted her gaze.
He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his manhood.
‘Shit-fuck, Mallory!’ He was rather shocked, to say the least. Wincing and closing his eyes briefly, he held his hand up to rub his head.
Feeling uneasy about what had happened the night before yet simultaneously sorry for him, she asked, ‘Are you okay? I was so worried when you took off. You were in a state when I found you.’
‘I’m okay… I think… sorry to worry you. I don’t know what happened.’ He shook his head. ‘I rememberbitsof it… did I… did I… kiss you?’ He cringed.
‘You did,’ she said plainly, her nostrils flaring at the memory.
‘Oh God, Mallory, I’m so sorry.’
She pursed her lips and folded her arms. ‘That’s not what you said last night.’
He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When I put you to bed, you told me you weren’t sorry for kissing me.’
He blushed, beetroot red. She couldn’t help the half-smile that played on her lips at his embarrassment.
‘Ah. Right.’ He looked down and then a look of horror crossed his face. He rubbed his eyes. ‘Did you…’ He gestured down at his naked body. ‘Did you… take my clothes—’
‘God no!’ she interrupted rather harshly. ‘I took your boots off and pulled the covers over you. You must have got up and done the rest.’
He cringed and shook his head. ‘Regardless of what I said last night, Iamsorry. Please forgive me.’
‘Look, Greg, it’s difficult for me to sit here talking to you when you’re naked. I’ll go and put the kettle on, you get a quick shower and come down when you’re ready,’ she instructed.
*
