Page 12 of Worth Every Moment
“Yeah. Apart from me. And given you just asked me out, I’m not sure I count.”
“There’s a difference between a date and sex, Lefroy.”
“Come on. Really. Do you have any female friends you haven’t had sex with?”
He ponders this, and the silence feels heavy. I’m more invested in his answer than I should be. “Amy Moritz,” he says finally.
Thank goodness. The relief that floods me is intense. If he’d had sex with Amy, one of my closest friends, I don’t know how I’d feel. It’s not as though I have any claim on Seb. I’ve never even kissed him. But if he and Amy…Oh. It would be awful, and I’d rather not know, but at the same time, I need to check. “I heard a rumour that you had a threesome with her and her backup dancer.”
Seb guffaws. “Did Amy tell you that?”
“God, no.” The answer comes far too quickly, and Seb’s gaze sharpens. It’s totally reasonable for him to assume Amy’s my source. But Amy never mentioned it, and I never asked her. If it hadn’t been Seb, if the rumour had been about someone else—anyoneelse—I would have asked her outright. But the memory of the gut-wrench that happened when I heard the story…horrid. Seb, my best guy friend, and Amy, my best girlfriend? No. I couldn’t have asked her. “I’m asking you.”
He looks at me that way he does, as though he’s seeing all my thoughts and feelings at once, and my skin prickles. “I did nothave sex with them.” He sounds uncomfortable, making me feel bad for dragging the information from him. But then he licks his lips, and says, “I watched.”
I splutter. “You watched Amy and her backup dancer have sex?”
He lifts a shoulder, signifying that it’s no big deal, while I try not to reveal the gut-wrench that’s suddenly back with a vengeance. “I did. I smoked a cigar in the corner of the room while they got it on. And in my defence, I was there first, having a quiet smoke. They came in all drunk and excitable, and I just… stayed. I mean, I made my presence known, but they didn’t care, and I was too drunk to move. I’m not sure I could have got out of my chair even if they had told me to leave. So yes, I do have a female friend I haven’t tried to sleep with.”
I hinge at the hips, tilting towards him. “Veto. I veto that example. It doesn’t count. Maybe you didn’t have sexwithher, but you were in the room while she was... I mean… when they… did you…” I fade off.What am I doing?I can’t ask him if he enjoyed watching my best friend have sex. It’s too messed up.How did this conversation take such a lewd turn?For all the hours we’ve spent together, this feels like the closest I’ve ever come to admitting thatmaybehe affects me. Maybe I’m interested in who he has sex with. Maybe, I care. Maybe, when we hang out, when we’re being ‘friends’, my body suffers an onslaught of chemical and biological confusion. Hormonal urges I can’t control.
Maybe that stuff is true.
He’s watching me so closely, as if he’s reading every shifting emotion on my face, that a rush of heat attacks me.Okay, fine. There’s no maybe about it. I have an enormous crush on my guy friend. My guy friend who’s dated more women than I have pairs of shoes. And I have alotof shoes.
I’m definitely attracted to him, and he’s so perceptive, so tuned in, that I’m sure he knows. Or at least suspects. If he took a moment to wonder why I’m asking… why I care… I couldn’t bear it if he thought Iactuallyliked him. It would ruin everything. How could we continue being friends? And what about Mum and my career?
He smirks, and that irresistible dimple deepens in his cheek. “Are you blushing?”
Instantly, the heat rises even more intensely to my face. He starts to laugh, but when it eases, he says, “I’ll tell you this much. It’s hard to be in the same room as people who are having sex, and not get turned on. Damn near impossible.”
“Oh,” I say, my voice so weak it’s pitiful.
Awkwardness seeps into the air like a gas leak, and Seb’s eyes dip as he clears his throat. “What are you doing later?”
I lean forward and poke his shoulder.Friendly. “Are you asking me out again?”
“I wasn’t, but I could.”Thump, thump goes my heart. “Would you like that?”
I let out a shrill laugh that sounds forced and makes him frown. “Not today.” I gesture to my ankle, rapidly trying to divert the conversation from wherever it hadn’t quite gone. “You’d have to carry me. But seeing as I’m unexpectedly free tonight, you can come home with me and watch a movie. Get a takeout? An Erica and Seb night on the sofa.”
The smile that splits his mouth is so delicious, I have to rein in the crazy urge to bite it right off his face. “That sounds better than any date. I’ll call my driver.”
5
SEB
Erica’s flat is huge. A great big pad in Vauxhall, with an enormous balcony that looks over the river. I’ve been here before, many times. This is where I first met her; at the party I begged Nico to take me to. I was determined to meet Erica Lefroy in person, even if I had to sell my left bollock to do it.
Occasionally, she still throws glamorous parties here where everyone gets drunk and makes out on the balcony as the sun sets. Everyone apart from Erica, that is. She doesn’t drink, and I’ve never known her to date anyone beyond whoever makes sense for her PR at the time, and even then, it’s normally a couple of dates and never more. Thank God for that, because having to stand by and watch Erica seriously date someone else, pretending to be happy for her… I don’t think I could do it.
The fact that I’ve never had to gives me the tiniest flicker of hope that maybe…maybe—
Ding.
The lift signals that we’ve reached her floor. She’s leaning almost all her weight on me, not putting any pressure on her bad foot at all.
“Let’s go,” she says, hopping on one foot to leave the lift.
