Page 113 of Begin Again Again

Josh leaned into her, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re beautiful.”

Beth didn’t know why, but she met his gaze directly. He immediately looked away.

“Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders again. “More art.”

Relief flooded Beth like opiates. For all his charm, for that kiss, Josh didn’t feel it either. They walked through a room full of oil paintings, the lighting flashing and pulsing along with the music playing—changing the mood of the gallery every few seconds.

Josh watched the people and she watched Josh. Maybe he’d asked her out not because he liked her, or saw the potential to like her, but because she was a girl from home, about his age and he thought they’d look good together. And that was fine—but he needed to work on his targets. If she wanted to be married and pregnant, she’d have stayed with Stephen. Now nothing short of sparks was getting her back on the heterosexual escalator. She wanted deeper, a man who liked art for its own sake. Who was honest and wanted honesty in return. Not Byron, but hopefully someone like him. Definitely not Josh. She’d have to find some way of getting out of kissing him tomorrow. Maybe she could pretend to get locked in the toilet at midnight or something.

“Want to hit the next level?” Josh asked.

“Sure.”

“Great, I’ll meet you at the stairs. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

He ran away, his butt high and cute in his jeans. Sighing at her failed biology, Beth wandered toward the entrance. She pulled her Coke from her tote bag and drank deeply. She was probably going to have to do the ‘I can’t come home with you’ dance with Josh and she needed energy. Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, expecting a text from Dolly asking how the date was going, but it wasn’t. It was a message from an unknown number.

I fucking want you.

Beth’s brain opened up, dumping serotonin all over her synapses. Her hands and knees started shaking. Fifteen days since she’d last seen him, and a single message could reduce her to rubble. He was drunk. Hehadto be drunk. What else would inspire him to text her that on a Wednesday night? Beth didn’t have to wonder long. Her phone buzzed again.

I don’t want anyone else. I can’t stop thinking about you.

“Jesus Christ.”

Beth’s mouth was dry as sand. She wanted to be angry, disappointed, fuming, but in the skipping slot machine of her mind, the only thing she could focus on was her excitement. She felt so energised, she could glow. Glancing toward the bathrooms for Josh, she opened the messages and stared at them, stacked on top of each other. She typed without thinking.

Who is this?

The response was almost instantaneous.

Nice one, Bethany.

Her phone buzzed again.

You’re the sexiest girl in the world.

Wrong. That would be the ex-girlfriend you can’t stop messaging.

She didn’t have to wait long for a response.

I don’t want anyone else.

Beth typed a reply as fast as autocorrect would allow.

Yeah, you mentioned. And if you think saying that when you’re pissed, after two weeks of radio silence, is gonna get you laid, you’re stupider than I thought.

She waited, dizzy and hopeful. The window of honesty was open, and she was in control. But only for now. Soon she’d step on a conversational landmine or Byron would get tired of her calling him out and he’d vanish again.

Tell me you don’t miss me.

Beth glared at her phone. She wanted defensiveness. She wanted Byron to admit he’d fucked up. She wanted… not this. She pressed a thumb to her forehead, her high mood already morphing into a headache. Her phone buzzed.

You can’t, because you do miss me. You feel it too.

Beth stared at the message. He was right and she hated him for being right. Before she could think of what to write back, another message popped into her notifications.

You want me to say I’m a scumbag? That I don’t know what I want? That I’m a cliché and I don’t deserve you? Fine.

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