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  “I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I’d known I was going to have to cook my own dinner.”

  “You so would have.” He grinned. I couldn’t argue with him. I was clearly way too obvious.

  Joel busied himself with chicken and spices and god knows what. He really seemed to know what he was doing. I stole glances at him at every opportunity. He padded around his kitchen barefoot, comfortable, his back muscles flexing beneath his worn T-shirt. I had to concentrate so I didn’t instinctively reach out to touch him.

  “How are you getting on?” He moved behind me, pushing his stomach into my back, rubbing his cheek against mine. “You smell so good.”

  “You like the smell of onions?”

  “You don’t smell of onions. You smell of you.”

  “I have a smell?”

  “You do. You smell … sexy.”

  I pushed back against him, unable to stop myself. His arms snaked around my waist and I dropped the knife and ran my hands down his arms. I felt his breath on my neck and he kissed me lightly, his skin on mine. My T-shirt rode up and his fingers trailed over my belly, sending shockwaves to my groin. Right then I would happily become another notch on Joel’s bedpost. I was affecting him, too. I felt his hardness against my back. It wouldn’t be long until I felt him. My underwear dampened at the thought and, as if he knew, he spun me around and buried his hands in my hair and pushed his lips to mine. It was different from the first time. His mouth was urgent on mine, like he couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t—didn’t want to—stop. I savored the feel of his broad muscles moving beneath my hands.

  Then abruptly he pulled away. I stumbled against the counter, my head light from his touch, trying to get my thoughts together. He’d turned back to the counter behind me and was agains consumed with the dinner, as if nothing had happened.

  I found my balance and turned my back to him and began again on the onions.

  “So, how’s the thesis going?” he asked lightly.

  “Ok, I suppose, I’m just not sure I’m that interested in the result. I’m just going through the motions.”

  “Ava, that doesn’t sound good. You have to love what you do.”

  “You think so? Don’t most people just get by?”

  “You want to just get by? You don’t want passion in your life? You don’t want to love what you do and who you’re with when you do it?”

  “I’m not saying that’s not what I want. But is it realistic to expect it? Isn’t life easier if you accept that it won’t be perfect?”

  “I think we should totally accept life as gloriously imperfect, but I think we should at least strive for passion in what we do.”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? That’s a convincing rebuttal. What are your grades like in Advocacy?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I giggled and threw a mushroom at him. “I told you, I’m not sure I’m passionate about this legal stuff. Here, I’ve done your chopping. Where are your placemats?” He pointed to the cabinet next to the fridge and I began setting the table. “So what’s your deal?” I asked.

  “My deal?” he responded.

  “Your deal.”

  “I’m not sure I have a deal.”

  “We all have a deal. You seem to be this domestic god-slash-study freak by day, man-whore by night.”

  “Wow.” His back stiffened.

  “God, I’m sorry. I just open my mouth and whatever’s in my head just falls out.” I made my way over to him and pushed myself up onto the counter to sit next to where he was cooking.

  “Yeah, I’m learning that about you.” He wouldn’t look at me.

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “I’m sorry that’s how you see me.”

  “They’re not bad things to be.”

  “Are you actually high? How can ‘man-whore’ be anything but a bad thing? Jesus, Ava.”

  Holy fuck, I’d really upset him. What was I thinking, calling him that? He just seemed so relaxed and confident all the time that it didn’t occur to me that I might be able to upset him. I reached up to stroke his arm and he glanced at me, clearly still pissed.

  “I am really sorry. You just have a constant stream of girls following you around, and Adam seems to make the most of it. He tells us about it in extreme detail, which is quite frankly disgusting. I don’t like the way he just treats women, like if he shags enough of them somehow it makes him a better guy.” I was rambling, a nervous habit.

  “I’m not Adam, and just because there are women talking to me doesn’t mean I’m shagging them.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reached across and pulled at him so he reluctantly stood between my legs. We were face to face. I traced his eyebrows with my fingers; he closed his eyes as they made their way across his cheekbones and down to brush his lips. Such perfectly full lips. I leaned in and licked the seam where they joined together, and then pushed my mouth against his. Our mouths parted and then his tongue met mine. His arms snaked up my back and I felt forgiveness, or maybe it was lust. Either way, it felt good.

  Joel pulled back at the unmistakable smell of burning food.

  “Shit, the rice is totaled.”

  “I’ll do another batch.” I pushed myself off the counter and took the pan of burnt rice over to the sink.

  ***

  Dinner was quiet. I think I was forgiven, but Joel wasn’t saying much. While washing up, I used every opportunity to touch him, to graze past him, to remind him I wanted him. Eventually, when we’d finished clearing up, I put my arms around his waist and my head on his chest. We stood there wrapped around each other for long moments, his lips pressed against my head.

  “I need to get you home before things get out of hand,” he said.

  “You do? I thought …” How embarrassing. I pulled out of his embrace and headed toward the hallway.

  “You thought what? That I was going to take advantage of you? You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Ava.” His voice had an edge to it.

  I turned to face him. “No, I would never think that, and that’s not what I meant at all. I thought you were attracted to me.” I felt so stupid. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. “I thought you were … we were … going to sleep together.”

  His hands reached out and grabbed my bottom, he pushed my hips to him so there was no space between us. “Look at me, Ava.” His eyes had softened. “I’m beyond attracted to you. I think you know that.” He rolled his hips into me, pressing his erection into my stomach. “But I’m not that guy, the guy people talk about. I’m not saying I’m a saint, but it’s not always just about sex.” I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t it always about sex with guys like Joel?

  “Ok,” I mumbled.

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me convinced of. I just thought … I just thought you wanted … I just wanted …”

  “No. Not yet. You’re not ready. I’m a patient man and I need you to be ready, really ready. So ready that every inch of you is begging for me.”

  Present

  Jules and I had agreed to meet for lunch on Friday, but she was running late. I looked around the café. There were a couple of good-looking men in here. Had I not been noticing men for the last eight years? One guy by the window was sitting by himself, reading the paper. He looked up and found me looking at him and smiled. I looked away, embarrassed to be caught ogling people in the middle of the day.

  “Hey, there. Sorry I’m late. My bitch-faced boss wanted to tell me all about how great she was, again,” Jules said.

  “No worries.” I was still distracted by my stranger in the window, who had gone back to reading his paper.

  “So you look relaxed. Was Will a good shag?” I didn’t need to answer. Jules knew me well enough to know that I didn’t sleep with Will. She continued without missing a beat. “But it’s good you’re seeing him again. You must like him?” I did like him. I’d forgotten how good it could feel to meet someone new. Even
my girlfriends had been my girlfriends for years.

  “Yes, he seems nice.”

  “But Bruce the baldy, not so much.” I’d not told her about Andrew or David. Four dates in a week sounded kind of desperate, and maybe I was, but I didn’t need Jules to know that.

  “Definitely not. Will’s funny and confident. He reminds me of …” I caught myself, just before I mentioned Joel and I smiled and looked away from Jules, catching the eye of the stranger in the window. We held each other’s glance for a second too long and were interrupted by the waitress delivering our usual lunch.

  “So you seem to be really into it. The Internet dating thing. I thought you’d chicken out when it came to actually going through with meeting a man.”

  “Well, like you say, it’s hard to meet people in London. And I’ve not dated in a while, so …”

  “You’ve never dated. It’s high time you fell in love.”

  It was high time I fell out of love.

  “Have you loved any of the guys you’ve been out with since Miles?” Miles was the married guy and we rarely spoke about him. It had all been so messy.

  “Nope, but I’m out there, hoping it will happen. And having some pretty good sex and plenty of very mediocre sex in the meantime. Speaking of good sex, did you get Hanna’s email about Joel’s dinner?”

  “Yes, this morning. What do you mean, speaking of good sex?” Had she and Joel hooked up before?

  “You know, all the good sex I’m going to be having with him when he’s back in town.”

  “Oh right. Are you seriously interested?” Please say no. Please say you’ve decided to become a lesbian, a nun, to marry the guy behind the counter.

  “Of course. He’s single, rich, good-looking, tall, funny. Why wouldn’t I be?” Why wouldn’t she be? And Jules was single, pretty, funny. Why wouldn’t he be similarly interested? Holy-fucking-moley.

  Hanna’s email earlier in the day had set the welcome-back dinner for Saturday night. Work was the obvious excuse, but then everyone would give me a really hard time about that and I guess it looked really rude. I was going to have to see him at some point. Food poisoning was an option, but did anyone believe you when you said you had food poisoning? I’d read the email from Hanna about 87 times. She had arranged a private room at a gastropub on Marylebone High Street, near where Joel was staying or living or whatever. The invitation list was Hanna, Matt, Leah, Daniel, Jules, Adam, Joel, and me. Could this be any more excruciating? Hanna had called everyone to check if we were all free, so I couldn’t pretend I had other plans. I was left with work or food poisoning as the potential excuses. Neither one was looking like a strong contender. And even if I did find an excuse, wasn’t I just putting off the inevitable? A welcome-back dinner would at least mean I knew exactly when we were going to see each other. I wouldn’t be caught off guard if I ran into him in the street or at Hanna and Matt’s. It also meant that I could spend the next week getting prepared, mentally and physically. If I could do nothing else, I could look as good as possible when he first saw me.

  “Do you want to help me shop on Saturday for a date outfit for Sunday?” I had a hundred things I could wear on Sunday. I was more interested in getting something for the following weekend.

  “I’m happy to help you spend your money. I have none, though, so you must make sure I don’t like anything.” It was an empty request. We both knew Jules would outspend me two to one.

  ***

  I could hear my doorbell ringing. I knew it would be Jules picking me up. I’d just thrown up and wasn’t sure I wasn’t going to do it again. I was hovering over the toilet, trying to keep my hair out of the way. There it went again, that fucking buzz was the most irritating sound in the world. I was going to have to risk it. I grabbed a towel and wiped my mouth and pulled my robe around me. Jules was now banging on the door.

  “What the fuck? It’s raining.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “Why aren’t you dressed?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize what time it is.”

  “Well, come on. We’re going to be late.”

  “Go and get yourself a glass of wine and I’ll be right out.” Jules was always easy to distract with a drink.

  I closed my bedroom door and took a deep breath. I had this.

  ***

  “Come the fuck on!” Jules had clearly finished her drink and was screaming from the sofa.

  “Coming.” A final look in the mirror. Yes, I was pleased with the results. I looked as good as I could look. My hair was in shiny, soft brown waves falling loose across my shoulders, which were exposed with a 50s-style, black satin fitted top with a wide neckline. It showed some skin, but no cleavage. Perfect. The red pencil skirt hit me just below the knee.

  Jules burst through my bedroom door.

  “Wow, you look great.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m not. But … you look great.”

  “Yes, you said.”

  “You should date more. It gives you a glow.”

  It was the thought of Joel that gave me a glow. Although part of me was terrified and dreading seeing him. Part of me was excited. I’d missed him. I wanted to catch up on all his news. I wanted to share my news with him. I wanted to smell him. Dear god, I missed his smell.

  “Let’s go crazy, girl,” I said.

  “Ok, glowy girl.”

  We clamored into a cab and set off for Marylebone High Street. I felt my heart rate rise with every mile.

  “So, how’s Will?” Jules asked. “You didn’t give much away when we spoke. Is it because you shagged like bunnies?”

  “Yes, Jules. That’s exactly what happened.” I didn’t want to think about Will when I was steeling myself to see Joel again.

  “Alright, no need to be snippy.”

  “Sorry. We didn’t shag like bunnies, but we had a good time. He’s funny. Good company.” Jules didn’t respond. “I Iike him.” It was true. He didn’t give me butterflies. I didn’t fantasize about him naked. But I did like him.

  “Good.”

  “Good? That’s all you’ve got? No lewd comments? No piss-taking?”

  “It’s nice to see you putting yourself out there and having some fun. I want to see you happy, Ava.” Jules was rarely so serious.

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You haven’t slept with your boss’ boss, have you?”

  “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him. I really like my job. I don’t want to have to leave it because I’ve seen my boss naked.”

  “Houston, we have a breakthrough.”

  “And, there are plenty of hot single guys out there for me—Joel included.”

  I really hoped that she was joking about making a play for Joel. I really hoped that Joel wouldn’t go there. Even a one night stand between them would potentially kill me. But Jules was relentless and rarely failed when she set her mind to something.

  “Are you even listening to me?” I hadn’t been.

  “Sorry, I was distracted.”

  “Thinking about Will naked?” I smiled at Jules. This is what I wanted right? I wanted to be dating someone by the time Joel was back so he wouldn’t think I was a sad spinster, but now that I was actually going to see Joel, it seemed kind of wrong.

  Chapter Four

  Past

  I’d only had sex once before Joel—a one-time thing with a boy from school. I’d manipulated the situation so I was completely in control, or so I thought. I didn’t want to go to University a virgin, so I’d decided I would find an opportunity to make sure that didn’t happen. And that’s what I did. It wasn’t about desire, it was about control. It was an item on my task list. The experience wasn’t unpleasant; I wasn’t one of those girls who were damaged by their first time, but it hadn’t rocked my world either. It had been practical and over quickly. Job done.

  My desire for Joel was something I’d not experienced before. My w
hole body was attuned to him. I could tell when he was close, even if I couldn’t see him: My skin tightened. A warmth spread through me when I smelled his familiar smell. Every now and then, he would look at me in a certain way and instantly my legs would weaken and I would feel a rush of dampness to my sex.

  Sitting across from him now in the library, I just caught his eye. It was late and I was done studying. I’d had lectures all morning and he’d had lectures most of the afternoon. I hadn’t seen him all day, and I didn’t want to be studying now that he was in front of me. I wanted his mouth all over me.

  A: Shall we grab some food at yours?

  J: Sure.

  A: Can we go now?

  J: You’re going to have to give me a minute.

  A: Are you in the middle of something?

  J: Kinda.

  A: Kinda?

  J: Kinda. I can’t move for a bit.

  A: Are you hurt???

  He’d not mentioned an injury.

  J: You’re wearing a skirt.

  A: Way to change the subject.

  I was totally confused.

  J: Your skirt. It’s very short and I have visions of my hand up it and on you, feeling you, touching you. It’s making me hard and if I stand up I’m going to embarrass myself.

  I felt myself flush. He felt it, too. It continued to surprise me—him wanting me. It had been over a week since I first had dinner at his house. I’d been twice since, and there had been kissing—lots more kissing—but I wondered if the reason he was delaying sleeping with me was that he really didn’t want me physically, despite his reassurances.

  A: I wore it for you.

  It was true. I felt more feminine with Joel, I wanted him to desire me and when I’d put it on this morning, I wondered if he’d like it.

  J: You did? Are you trying to lead me astray?

  A: I want you to do the things you said.

  J: You want my hand up your skirt?

  A: I do.

  J: What else?

  A: What else?

  What was he asking me?

  J: What else do you want me to do to you?

  I felt my breath hitch. I’d had a million fantasies that I couldn’t share with him. Could I?