Page 43 of Kissing Games
‘So, you have a sister. How old is she?’ he asked.
She rolled her eyes. ‘This is meant to be a night off from my family.’
‘Ah, come on. Just the basics.’
‘Okay, there’s Manny, my older brother. He’s thirty-six. He’s married to Maria and they have four kids. Then there’s me.’ She hesitated, her heart wringing. ‘Then my younger sister, Isabella. She’s twenty-six, married to Matias and seven months pregnant with her first child.’
She saw his forehead crease, as if trying to solve a puzzle. She didn’t want him to spot the gap in her family portrait so offered herself up instead.
‘I’m thirty-two, okay? The producers onLa Vida Familiartold us to lie about my age when I started on it.’ She finished the drink and put it down, feeling more and more unsteady. ‘Happy now?’
‘Ecstatic,’ he replied with a grin. ‘We’re exactly the same age. So, you never had a big party for your thirtieth?’
She shook her head. ‘I was working. They brought out a cake which had a big “twenty-seven” iced on it. I felt like such a fraud.’ She reached for another glass, her fingers fumbling to hold it. She took a sip and grimaced.
‘Buckfast. Grape juice, sugar, ethanol, caffeine and chemicals. Made by monks, banned in the US, and the drink of choice for young offenders. “Buckfast. Gets you fucked fast” is the unofficial slogan.’
She knocked it back in one, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. She wanted oblivion. Tonight was about the present, not the past. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the waves of drunkenness, the pounding desire. A swell of nausea moved through her and she opened her eyes, using his as a point of balance.
He was studying her. ‘You okay?’
She nodded and stood up, unsteadily. She walked around the table, leaning on it for support. He moved his chair, as if to stand, but she gripped his shoulders, pushing him back down as she sat on his lap. Her face so close to his, their noses touched. She saw the black of his pupils flooding the green irises till only a rim of gold remained.
‘Valentina…’ He broke off, his voice low and rough.
She could feel his breath against her lips. She ran her fingers up the back of his neck into his hair, rubbing against the grain.
He shivered under her touch. ‘Valentina, I don’t…’
She continued stroking up into his hair and brought her lips to his ear. ‘What is it, Charlie?’ She bit down gently on the lobe and he jumped as if shot, breathing heavily. Why wasn’t he touching her?
‘Valentina, I don’t want to—’
She stilled, shock freezing her body to numbness. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. Oh god. What had she done? Her stomach rolled with the shame of rejection. She clamped her hand to her mouth.
She was going to be sick.
She stumbled up and ran for the bathroom. Yanking the door open, she tripped forward to the toilet and dived for the bowl, making it just in time as her guts emptied. Her body heaved, again and again, the pressure watering her eyes. She felt warm hands at the back of her head, lifting her hair out of the way as she gripped the sides of the seat. She reached the end of a gag and gasped for breath.
‘Lift your head a bit,’ said Charlie.
She complied and he flushed the toilet.
‘Now hold still for a moment,’ he continued, braiding her hair, then tucking the end under the back of her dress. He kissed the top of her head. ‘Stay put,’ he murmured. ‘I’m going to get you some water.’
As soon as the bathroom door closed, she moaned and threw up again. A minute later, he was back. She flushed the toilet and knelt up. He gave her a glass of water. She swilled out her mouth and spat it in the bowl, keeping her gaze away from his.
‘Think there’s any more to come up?’
She shook her head and started crying.
He crouched down behind her, taking the water off her with one hand whilst pulling off sheets of toilet roll with the other. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. Take this and let’s get you out of here.’
She shook her head and sat back on the floor, covering her eyes.
‘You can go now,’ she said between sobs. ‘You don’t have to stay.’ He stroked down her back and kissed the top of her head again. Why was he doing that? Did he feel sorry for her?
‘I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.’
