Page 121 of Unspoken Words
Winking, I gave him a ‘come hither’ flick of my finger. “With pleasure. Follow me.”
*
“This can’t be happening,”Iwhispered to myself as I sat in my bathroom on the toilet—lid down—my head in my hands trying desperately not to cry. Byron was on the other side of the door, lying in my childhood bed, post-reunite-sex, and I felt nothing but emptiness. The small spark we’d once shared, the tiny glimmer I’d always clung to, was gone, and not even the promise of an orgasm after five long weeks could reignite it.
When he’d kissed me and lifted my t-shirt over my head, I’d felt hope. When he’d skimmed his fingers over my bare breasts and squeezed them gently, I’d felt despair. And when he’d laid me down on the bed and told me he loved me, I’d felt dread. No spark. No heat. Nothing. Until I’d closed my eyes and imagined it was Connor there with me, that it washisfingers sliding underneath the lace of my underwear,histongue caressing mine,hiships rocking against mine, andhismoans a poetic symphony with mine. It had all been him and, yet, it hadn’t, not even close.
Standing up, I splashed some water on my face at the basin and gazed into the mirror.It’s got to be some kind of sex malfunction. It’s got to be.I nodded to my reflection, unconvinced, a tear descending my cheek. I was annoyed … and determined, so I wiped it away.We should go again. Yes.
Yanking open the bathroom door, ready to prove my body wrong, the rumble of a car pulling into the driveway stopped me. “Shit! Mum’s home.”
“What?” Byron threw the covers off his body and scrounged around for his clothes. “I thought you said we had hours.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Damn it, Elle.” He snatched up his jeans and threaded them over his legs. “This is your parents’ house and we need to show them some respect.”
My face scrunched. “You say thatnow?”
“Well, yeah, now that I know we were at risk of being caught.”
“We’re not kids, Byron.” I threaded my t-shirt over my head. “And my parents aren’t prudes.”
“Maybe not, but it sure as hell isn’t respectful when you’re busted fucking their daughter in her bedroom.”
“So this is all my fault?”
“You said we hadhours.”
Staring at him as if he were an alien, I couldn’t help but think that if it were Connor and me in the same situation, we’d be giggling and trying to fix each other’s sex-messed-hair.
“Fine. It’s my fault.” I turned to leave the room when he grabbed my arm to stop me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry. I just don’t want to give your parents a bad impression. Not this weekend.”
“You won’t.”
“I’ve only met them a few times, Ell.” There was an unusual hint of fear in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but sympathise.
“Oh, Byron, always trying to please the higher power.” I glided my hands down the sides of his face, held his jaw, and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry. You couldn’t possibly disappoint them.”
A little white lie.
Because he could, and he did.
Or, more accurately, because I did, for dating a man they knew I would never loveenough.
*
“That was absolutely lovely, Mrs Mitchell.”Byron wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed back his chair, standing at the dining table to help clear our dinner plates.
My mother drank the last of her wine, her warm, emerald eyes glimmering over the rim of her crystal glass. “Thank you, dear.”
I, too, drank my wine,allof it—the third glass. Dinner had been awkward. Forced. Artificial. Dad had hardly said a word, over-chewing his food while avoiding eye contact with me. And I could tell Byron was nervous; he’d practically talked about himself and his parent’s shopping malls non-stop. It had been an I’m-naked-in-a-room-full-of-people situation, which had me on edge because it wasn’t as if they’d never met before. They had, a few times. And it had never been as unpleasant as this.
Standing up to help clear the table with Byron, the chime of the doorbell was a welcome relief. “I’ll answer it,” I said, practically skipping out of the room.
I rushed to the door, realising I’d have to concoct a perfectly good reason to excuse Byron and I from further torture in the presence of my parents so ran a few options through my head: food poisoning, random onset of narcolepsy … mysteriously vanished. I laughed at the craziness of it all right before opening the door and nearly dying on the spot.
