Chapter 29
Here you all are. Sorry its been so long! This also isn't beta'd YET, I'v been a bit slack sending stuff off in time to post. Had a bit of writers block and haven't had the time. I'm off on holidays now though, SO, will hopefully be plenty of time to do some work. We're back to the plot a bit here, so enjoy! And review please!
Chapter 29
Michel left the bed a few minutes later and walked into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him. I was pretty sure we both knew it had gone far enough this time. Far enough to make a whole new list of awkward questions anyway. Far enough to make a statement, and not quiet answer it.
With a groan, I fell back onto the bed.
What the hell was I doing?
I was throwing myself at guy when I had no idea what his intentions were! And not only that, I was throwing myself at my best friend. I was making out with my best friend on a semi-regular basis. And it had ever done, aside from make my toes curl with excitement and my skin flush all over, was make everything awkward and destroy a friendship that was quickly becoming as fragile as glass.
God. There was a reason girls made such a distinction between Boy Friends and Boyfriends. Mixing the two was never nice. It was a bit like mixing banana and chocolate. Nice for a night of fondue, not so nice for breakfast every morning. It only works for about 1 in every hundred or so people. Hadn't I learnt anything in high school?
I heard the shower turn on in the bathroom and the slap of clothes against tiles. I rolled over and squeezed my eyes shut. I will not think of Michel naked. I will not think of Michel naked. I will not…too late. The image filled my head before I could stop it. His bright grey eyes, the water sliding over his face, his smooth skin, down his shoulders, dipping into his collarbone, his stomach, his long thighs…everywhere in between…
Stop it!
I sat up and brushed my hair away from my face. This was getting ridiculous, I decided. Beyond ridiculous. I had never fantasised about Callum, not ever, and the only reason I could think of was because I had been dating him at the time so I hadn't had to fantasise. He was all there for the taking. But Michel? Well, you know the saying. You always want what you can't have. And Michel, with his years-long status as Best Friend, was untouchable. That had to be the reason for the attraction. I only wanted him because I couldn't have him. Screw whatever Tamara had said. I wanted Michel, for purely sexual reasons, and only because I wasn't supposed to want him. It had nothing to do with love, or falling for him.
That had to be it. I was a Girl in Lust.
And then the bathroom door opened, and my whole theory puffed into smoke and blew out the window.
Because he was standing there, a towel tucked carelessly low on his hip-bones, looking hot and wet and delicious, and all I could think about was how nice it would be if he smiled at me. Oh, don't get me wrong, it was doing all sorts of wonderful things to my body, him standing there, things I'd rather ignore, but the main thought in my mind was how adorable he was. Not how hot. Or how yummy. Or how much I'd like to lick the water off his chest (though that didn't seem like such a bad idea). No, I was thinking about him.
And Girls in Lust don't do that do they? When their mans standing there, wrapped in a piece of cloth and nothing else, Girls in Lust don't think about that mans smile. Or how nice that man hugs. They're thinking about much more important things. Like how long his penis is, or something. Which, honest to god, I had never wondered about. Because none of that stuffed mattered to me. I mean, it mattered, but only because Michel mattered. Michel didn't matter because of that stuff.
And that sounded a little too much like I had much more than a crush on the unattainable Greek God that was now gracing my presence with a dripping body and a small smile. I didn't think I was going to be able to fool myself much longer.
"Ria?" Michel asked, his voice breaking a silence I hadn't even realised was there. "Mind, um, getting me a new shirt out of my case?"
In a little of a daze, I did what he asked. Only I didn't so much as hand him the shirt as throw it to him. Which he caught with a frown and an anxious look before he ducked back into the bathroom.
I threw myself back on the bed.
Oh, dammit.
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Beth sat beside me at dinner, and I fought the urge to flinch. She rarely acknowledged me unless she had something planned. Beth wasn't the sort to fire randomly and hope that something hit. She planned and planned and planned.
Her sitting next to me was a bad sign.
"Ria," she greeted me coolly.
"Beth."
Michel put some potatoes on my plate, and poured me a full glass of wine. I looked at him gratefully, and patted his hand under the table. He just shrugged and grimaced, looking pointly at Beth.
I took a sip of my wine and looked around the table, pretending disinterest. George and Anthony had cornered Peter into what they called "boy talk". Which meant either soccer, cars, or girls. Sine Anthony was there, and looked interested in the conversation enough to contribute, I was guessing the main topic of discussion would be cars or soccer. Or both. Everything seemed to link in their minds.
Mum and dad were carefully avoiding my eyes, and had been since Anthony had happily regaled dad with an exaggerated tale of todays hand-cuff deal. Dad had laughed it off at first, but I knew it was getting to him. No man liked to be reminded that their little girl was all ground up.
I just wish he actually had reason to worry.
Michel was silent on my right, and ate carefully.
"So how did you like Susie?" Beth speared a piece of meat and put it daintily in her mouth. "I thought she was lovely, but then, I am the god-mother." I waited for her to finish. "Such a beautiful little girl," Beth continued blithely, "and such a darling couple, don't you agree?"
I raised an eyebrow at her. This was a little too unsubtle. Even for Beth. Still, it worked. I couldn't quite fight the surge of…jealousy?...no, hatred, that belted through my blood and demanded release.
"Yes," I replied, forcing my voice to indifference. "They really deserve each other."
"Yes well, I've always thought so. Callum's always had one eye on her, you know. But then, how can you not? Very few women can hold a man's attention when Veronica's around."
Okay. Ouch.
"Really." I said, and speared a potato savagely.
Michel touched my hand gently under the table.
"I suppose it must all be very painful for you huh" Beth said, injecting sympathy into her voice. "I mean, you've always had trouble holding a man. I suppose one day it will just get too much. I hope not, but well, you know you can always come to me for help." She looked at me with mock-pity in her eyes. "I promise I won't spend all my time with Peter."
Michel's hand stayed on my own. I gripped his tightly. I was furious, but dammed if I'd let Beth see it.
"Wow Beth, you've really improved," I said sweetly.
Her eyes narrowed, "improved in what?"
"Did you take Bitch 101 class's while I was away? You must have. You can't possible have come up with this all by yourself." Even though she could, but let's not push the point. "But there's no need to put me down to make yourself feel better, sister. You're just as good as me. I know that, even if no-one else can see it."
I saw her eyes narrow. Jackpot.
Alright, so I knew it wasn't the most witty comeback ever. But it did the job.
"Ria," my sister said finally, after a menacing pause. "It's only the truth that you're better at me then some things."
Uh oh.
"Like spreading your legs for instance." She smiled pleasantly. "Everyone knows you're really good at that." She looked past me to Michel, and I felt his hold tighten on my hand. Brace yourself buster, I thought.
"Do you find that Michel? That she's good at spreading her legs? I know Callum did. He told me that sometimes, he had to pretend he was asleep just to get out of sex with her. Like a dog on rut, he said."
Then her eyes widened and she opened her mouth in a little round 'o' of shock. "Oh dear I've said too much haven't I? It's just that, well, Callum tells me some of the most amusing things, and it's just so hard to keep them to myself sometimes!"
I stared at her in shock, hardly believing that she'd go so far at the dinner table.
I glanced up at my family, but they were still oblivious to us, carrying on their own conversations. George's eyes met mine once, only briefly, but they were filled with fury when he turned them on Beth. Well, he'd obviously heard.
I shook my head at her. "That was low Beth, even for you."
One of her perfectly waxed, blonde eyebrows arched. "Oh I'm sure we all know who really has the expertise on going low, Ria." Her blue eyes met mine. They were cold, unfeeling. "Like the entire boys soccer team for instance?"
She really had planned well, if she dredging up high school.
She turned away from me, and looked across the table at Anthony. "Don't you remember that Anthony?" Anthony turned his head to look at her. "Ria and the soccer boys? Quite a time wasn't it?"
The dining room fell silent.
Next to me, Michel hadn't said a word. But his hand was still in mine.
Anthony cocked his head at her, his smile confused.
"Beth," I said quietly. "Now isn't the time."
Beth just looked at me, smiling wide. "Whatever do you mean Ria? Your past is nothing to be ashamed of! Unless of course…" she dropped her voice to a low whisper, which everyone heard anyway, "You haven't told Michel yet?"
I stared at her, and I knew my eyes were furious.
"Michel doesn't care," I said tightly. And in agreement, his hand tightened around mine. He shifted a little closer to me, letting his leg press against my own, and his shoulder a comforting weight against mine.
Beth looked positively evil as her smile stretched wider. "Even about the girls?"
I felt my face drain of colour, and felt Michel wince beside me. I glanced down, and noticed dazedly that my hand was clenched around his, my nails digging into his skin. I loosened my hand quickly, but I still felt dizzy, faint, felt the blood pounding in my ears.
So much anger.
Somehow, I managed to keep it in check.
"There is no competition for Michel," I told her coolly, and by the disappointment in her eyes, I knew she had wanted more.
Sighing, and admitting thwarted defeat for tonight, and perhaps feeling the pointed glare of her parents and Peter, Beth let the subject drop. The rest of the meal was finished in utter silence.
There is no competition for Michel. I let the words replay around and around in my head. And realised, even as they whispered to me again and again, that they were true.
There would never be any competition for Michel.
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