Page 16 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
‘And as we have learned, you have a problem saying no.’
He tutted. ‘We were talking about you, not me. So … what happened on his stag?’
‘Dan. That’s his name.’ It felt strange, speaking it out loud after what suddenly seemed a long, long time ago, in another life.
‘His best mate organised a private party in a pub in town. It … it got out of hand.’ She swallowed as the memories hit. ‘I’d never have found out if my brother hadn’t been there. He didn’t say anything for a day or two, wondering what on earth to do. I mean, we had this massive wedding in a few days, nearly two hundred guests. Then he decided to ask Dad’s advice – on the day before the wedding. The pair of them told me together.’
‘That’s horrible. But–’
‘But what?’ she said, batting away a tear. ‘You’re going to tell me it meant nothing, that I shouldn’t have called off the wedding, ruined my entirelifebecause of a quick, thoughtless, drunken sex act with a hooker? Well, I’m sorry, but nowaycould I ever forget that. I knew I’d never trust him again.’
‘No, I wasn’t going to say that,’ said Joel. ‘Look, most blokes honestly just want a beerfest and a night with the lads talking shit. You just go along with the strippers and all the rest of it, for the sake of your mates. There might be a bit of a grope, a fondle, a lap dance maybe …’
He paused, and his cheeks went a little pink. Chloe realised he was remembering their moment beneath the chewing-gum tree, and she felt her cheeks go a little pink, too.
‘You were saying?’ she prompted.
‘But you don’t cross that line,’ he finished, meeting her eye again. ‘Look – you get married for a reason. Because you lovesomeone. So why would you risk hurting that person? What a horrible start to a marriage. And anyway, most blokes wouldn’t want to, no matter how pissed they were.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Okay, being honest? I’ve seen things get out of hand once or twice. But they were the sort of guys who were always going to be up for it. And they’re not going to stop when they get married. If they cheat on their stag?’ He shrugged. ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater. It’s a cliché but it’s probably true.’
Well. Chloe allowed in the possibility. Perhaps Joel wasn’t like Dan after all. Perhaps he was a bona fide decent human being.
‘My fiancé got a blow job,’ she said. ‘His mates cheered him on.’
It was surprisingly easy to tell him. For the first time, saying it out loud didn’t cut like a knife.
Joel briefly shut his eyes. ‘That’s not good. Maybe you’re well shot of him, Chloe.’
‘Maybe I am. But it broke my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone again.’
‘You’d let one twat having a moment of stupid deprive you of love for the rest of your life?’
‘It’s not fair, is it?’ she said. ‘But right now I feel like I could never trust a man again. Dan and I had been together since high school. All those years, I never doubted him. I mean … I knew he was a flirt. But I never thought he’d …’ She shook her head.
‘What about you? Were you never unfaithful? Even when you were that young?’
His question took her by surprise. ‘No! Well, I snogged Liam Allenshaw at a New Year’s Eve party, but that was all. And he was utterly gorgeous, and I was drunk, but no.’
And then she remembered why she’d snogged Liam. Because Dan had disappeared, and so had the year thirteenslapper, who’d been coming on to Dan all night. He’d flirted back; Chloe had been suspicious, and it had been a revenge snog. Her accusations after the event had been met with outraged denial, followed byHow COULD you’sfrom Dan. Someone had snitched on Chloe.
She smiled to herself. The drama of those teenage parties!
‘I was neverunfaithfulunfaithful. I thought about it a few times, when Dan got too flirty with other women, mostly because I needed to prove to myself I could still pull too.’ She frowned. ‘I was quite hot, back then, when I could be bothered with it all. Now I seem to have lost the ability to care.’
He looked across at her.
‘No, don’t say anything. I wasn’t fishing for compliments; I was being honest with myself.’
His eyes swept over her, and she wished she’d listened to Aunt Daisy, taken better care of her hair and skin, worn clothes that weren’t vintage Huddersfield charity shops. That she’d bothered with mascara for work, liberated her hair from its elastic band.
‘You’re–’
‘I know I need a makeover,’ she interrupted. ‘And I need to get out more. I guess I was waiting to get past today – this bloody anniversary.’
He frowned. ‘What? You mean …’
