I could barely keep up with him.
I laughed and he looked back at me expectantly.
‘I could eat a horse between two bread vans,’ I drawled in broad Yorkshire.
‘Ah, I do like a woman with a bit of class.’ He pronounced it with the short ‘a’.
‘You’re funny,’ I thought I might be flirting, but after more vodkas than was good for me, I’d stopped caring.
‘Am I?’ He regarded me, his head tipped on one side.
‘Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar, though?’ I gave him a quizzical look. ‘That’s the important question.’
‘Probably a bit of both,’ he chuckled back. ‘I hope so anyway.’
* * *
I can’t remember what we ate, or even what we talked about. I was aware of the time passing, the massive logs on the fire turning black and jewel red, the heat pulsing as the jostling bodies around the bar swam by in shapes and colours. I wasn’t paying proper attention, I knew that. I also knew that despite my previous reservation, I was enjoying myself. I really was. I was finding this unusual man attractive; he made me laugh, he was intelligent and considerate and attentive and I deserved a bit of care and attention. Emma had been right. Why the hell shouldn’t I?
I said something cheeky and he laughed. The lights from the bar caught his face and his eyes sparkled. I was aware of how close we’d got: how our cramped elbows had slid across the table, making us tight in our own circle. I was drinking too much, I knew that too. I was letting loose, making things inevitable. There was his mouth, soft, moving in front of me like a pale crescent moon, laughing suddenly; his lips moving with underwater slowness, shaping words that I wasn’t sure had any meaning, but it didn’t seem to matter. I lifted my glass and saw an endless snowflake pattern of fingermarks, quite perfect, and his odd face, right there, and me not understanding why I had ever thought it odd and not strangely beautiful. I was aware of all my nerve-endings: they felt suddenly alive; every breath was light and new and felt clean and sharp.
He’s probably done this before.
Don’t be stupid; of course he has, the voice in my head said. He’s confident and at ease. It’s bloody obvious.
He laughed right into my eyes and I knew he was keen, and his keenness made me feel confident too. I knew the game, I wasn’t daft. I looked smilingly into his face. If I stayed right where I was he might lean forward, tip his head and kiss me. I felt it. Caught. We gazed, bright and engaging, into each other’s eyes: a direct stare that didn’t need words to tell us what we were both thinking, and then suddenly he looked away. He concentrated on a little ring of water on the table and I immediately felt ridiculous, sitting there so rapt and eager. He half-smiled, casually drawing his finger through the circle. It made a little squealing sound. Someone dropped a glass behind the bar and I took a breath as the real world thumped back into place.
He glanced around. ‘What time is it?’ He looked down at his watch. ‘Ten past nine. What do you think? It might’ve stopped raining. Should we make a run for it?’
‘Yeah. Great. Good idea.’
I managed the words clumsily, pushing my chair back, licking and biting my lips to get the feeling back into them, leaning down to grab my bag. The table edge loomed horribly close. He stood and moved with me, guiding me towards the door. I felt a prickle of intimacy as the heat of his hand hovered around the small of my back, the sensation tickling my spine as we stepped out onto the pavement. Dark clouds were roiling in overhead and a fine rain was slanting through the streetlights, making the world look patchy and phosphorescent. We fell in step with that uncomfortable tension of not holding hands: a couple yet not a couple, but knowing we were only a hair’s breadth away from being just that.
We walked side by side in silence for a few moments. I was concentrating on my feet and we bumped shoulders as he went to cross the road.
He chuckled. ‘Hey, careful! Which way are you going?’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘I wasn’t watching.’
He stopped and looked at me. ‘No, I meant which way? Do you want a lift?’ He nodded to a white Audi.
‘But you’ve been drinking.’ I felt the road moving slightly beneath my feet.
‘Actually, you’ve been drinking, I stopped hours ago.’
‘Oh! I didn’t realise…’ I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say, my mouth feeling sticky and clumsy with drink, my face a stiff mask with me sitting stupidly behind it.
‘Let me take you to where you’re staying at least?’
‘No. Really. I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘A cab, then.’ He looked round. ‘You can’t be out here, in—’ He paused. I thought he was going to say ‘this state,’ and I felt a rush of annoyance. ‘— this weather,’ he added.
I drew myself up and staggered slightly. ‘I’ll be perfectly fine, thank you,’
‘Would you like to exchange numbers?’ he looked amused and patted his pocket.
‘Why not?’
The words didn’t come out as I wanted them to; I knew I sounded off-hand and aloof. He was signalling that the evening was over; part of me wanted it to be, and then another part of me… I distracted myself by scrabbling in my bag for my phone and then fumbled as I tried to turn it on, but the screen only flashed and died.
‘Oh shit! The battery’s gone.’
‘Don’t worry.’ He grabbed my hand and turned it over. ‘Here.’ He pulled a biro from his pocket and began to stroke black numbers onto my palm. The ink felt cold and tickled a sensation right through my belly. I felt myself sway a little, watching his face as he worked. This isn’t you, that little voice inside me said. You don’t meet men in pubs and think what it would be like to… be like to… We were so close I could smell his skin. His lips twitched a little with concentration. He ended with an ostentatious full stop, smiling, but didn’t let go of my hand.
‘There.’ He blinked up at me.
I hesitated. He didn’t move. I knew what I was going to do. I leaned forward and kissed him: gently at first, but then with an urgency and a passion, letting go of my reserve, my fear, my self-consciousness. I kissed him until there was no breath left in either of us.
‘Fuck…’ he said.
I could feel his erection against my hip. I pulled back slightly and slipped my hand down his fly to squeeze it.
‘Fuck.’
‘Yes. Let’s,’ I laughed. This man didn’t know me. I could be anyone I wanted to be. With him, I felt liberated. Desire flooded through me in a wave, buoying me up; the sheer thrill of it; I was in control. He pulled me to him again but I pushed him off. ‘But not quite yet,’ I said flirting outrageously now. ‘Come on.’ I offered him my hand. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Where?’
I was surprised when he took it meekly like a child. I only smiled. ‘Somewhere.’
‘What do you mean, somewhere? Where’s somewhere?’
But I didn’t answer. I led him, a tad unsteadily, across the road. ‘This one?’ I gestured to the Audi.
He fumbled for the keys, the immobiliser flashing into the darkness. I stalked round to the passenger side and yanked the door open. He paused for a moment to pull his shirt out of his trousers to cover his embarrassment. The power rushed through me.