Catch 22: Chapter 8 – Your Love Will Be Exorcised
As the guests begin to filter in, you slowly feel your heart drop more and more as each one isn't Nikki. A few people later and you see Leo and Janet, immediately removing yourself from your lean-to in the living room, and sidling over to them.
"No Nikki?" you try to ask casually, fully expecting a half-baked excuse about make-up and hair, although in truth, you know this probably is the real reason. You look around the room for no-one in particular, your eyes fixing onto Isabel a couple of times, as she busies herself with pouring drinks and mingling with her friends. You realise Isabel invited most of these people, and you've actually never met most of them before. You wonder how well you really know Isabel, because despite nearly six months of knowing her, you probably only know a handful of people in her life.
And the few friends you've managed to keep over the years, she's never even met, never even actually heard of them.
You continue this uncertainty in your head, different theories blending into one another, until your heart finally drops and smashes on the floor as Nikki walks through the door, pulling you out of any reverie you had intended on keeping until the evening was over.
Isabel is the first one to greet her, handing her a glass of champagne, and then, handing a glass to the tall man standing next to her, impeccably dressed and regrettably, good-looking. Most likely a detective, you add mentally. Isabel, being the hostess she is, soon moves on to the people behind them just coming through the door, but not before gesturing towards the bedroom for them to put their coats.
The stranger next to Nikki points in a vague direction, before Nikki smiles and nods, taking his coat from him, as he leaves her side, weaving his way through the oncoming hordes of people. You see him nearing you, as he attempts to get out of the room (you've reached the conclusion by now that he's looking for the bathroom), so instinctively, you open the first door you see and close it behind you, in a bit to avoid Nikki's new friend.
You sigh, both with relief and regret as you realise you've opened the door to the bedroom. Relief, because, if you're going to hide somewhere, you may as well do it somewhere comfortable. Regret, because, once the party is over and the dinner is over and the evening is over, this is where you'll be sleeping. With Isabel. Permanently. And somehow, that thought isn't as uplifting as you'd hoped it would be.
"Hiding at your own housewarming party? That's gotta be a new low for you," a voice suddenly says to your back, and you can almost hear the smirk in her voice. Turning around, you see Nikki in the doorway, clutching two coats in her hand, "Isabel said I could leave these in here," she smiles awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other, before tossing the coats onto the bed, on top of the others already there.
"What makes you think I'm hiding?" you smile back, as she closes the door behind her, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to you.
"These kinds of parties never really were your thing," she giggles nostalgically, and you're tempted to laugh along with her, at the sheer fact you're hosting parties you've always hated to go to. You and Nikki have always hated them, opting to stick together rather than separate, for fear of being lost in the crowd of yummy mummies and golfing buddies.
"Oh, because you know me so well?" you say in mock-seriousness, pretending to be annoyed at her (pretty accurate) assumption, nudging her shoulder with your own.
"No, I just happen to remember Leo and Janet's New Year's Eve party," she reminds you, causing you to groan outwardly at the memory.
"Oh God," you moan, hanging your head partially in shame, but also to hide the blush upon your face, as you remember the evening.
"I mean, you loved that party so much that you dragged me into a bathroom for half an hour just so you didn't have to kiss a stranger at midnight!" Nikki laughs, eventually becoming out of breath, as her cheeks grow pink at the apparent hilarity of the occasion.
"It wasn't that funny," you protest after a while, slightly perturbed by just how comical she finds this memory, "And besides, it worked, didn't it?"
"What did?" she stops herself from laughing briefly for the benefit of answering your question.
"Well, I didn't end up kissing a stranger at midnight," you add pointedly, your eyes falling onto hers. She slowly lifts her head to look at you, as it dawns on her what you are saying, but she remains silent, neither of you trusting yourselves to say anything rational.
"That party was nearly a year ago," she sighs, getting up to look in the mirror, so she doesn't have to look at you anymore. In all fairness, if she didn't move away, it would have been you.
"You brought it up," you scoff, "Besides, it was a good party," you conclude, smiling in spite of yourself.
"Yeah," she smiles nostalgically, "Anyway, you best get back to Isabel," she sighs, almost ruefully, turning back to face you, rather than talking to your reflection in the mirror.
"Yeah, and you best get back to your new flavour of the month," you say jokily, as you get up from the bed, quite worryingly, with a bit of difficulty.
"My what?" she replies, incredulous, "He's not an ice-cream, Harry. He's just a guy," she giggles, her heels clacking on the linoleum floor as she walks back towards you.
"Ah, I forgot, you're rebounding," you retort, the smile on your face growing at her features, as they frown slightly in mock-furiousness. Well, you hope it's mock-furiousness.
"I'm not going to even satiate that with an answer," she replies, blasé, her features suggesting she's slightly offended by your off-hand comment, as she turns to leave once more.
"Spoilsport," you say brusquely, before taking one of numerous cushions lying on the bed, and throwing it in her general direction.
She looks at the cushion as it hits the floor, bending over excruciatingly slowly to pick it up, an action that is deliberate, conscious, to exploit any potential feelings you have towards her. Instead of throwing it back at you, as she much once would have, she slowly walks over to you, placing the fluffy item firmly into your hands.
"It's so different," she sighs resignedly, looking around the room, although you know what she really means.
"It's not me," you answer for her, nodding your head as you look at the furnishings around the room, a couple of scented candles, fluffy cushions, all chosen out by her. Fair enough, you did get a look in at a couple of colour charts, and you did help put together the furniture you picked out together at Ikea, but it was still a house. Not a home.
She offers you the smallest of nods, as if she is still in awe (or blatant) horror at the room. She then shakes her head slightly, as if she can't really comprehend the situation, or as if she is disregarding a new thought in her head. It's one of the first times you're unable to read the expression on her face. But unexpectedly, instead of moving away, or leaving the room, or any other possible action that is more likely, she rests her hand on your cheek, her thumb rubbing it gently.
"Why then?" she whispers, her voice cracking faintly, as her eyes begin to brim with tears.
"Because," you begin, running a hand across her hairline, playing with the few loose strands that she hadn't managed to keep under control, "I was afraid," you try to get out, although the lump in your throat is intent on keeping it in, where your words can't get you into trouble.
"Of what?" she breathes, her voice so scarce that you're unsure if she actually said it. You're almost scared to answer her, knowing that once you do, everything has the potential to change. But then again, maybe that's just what you need. Despite moving in with Isabel, it's still a pretence, you're still not fooling anyone, not your mother, certainly not Leo, and now, not even Nikki.
"Of this," you murmur, your voice barely audible as your hand moves down to her jawline, stroking her cheek, her jaw, her lips. It's then, in that moment, that suddenly, everything seems to fit into place. You don't need to pretend to have found contentment with Isabel, when you've already found it with Nikki.
With your free hand, you pull her closer to you, wrapping an arm around her waist, making her sigh softly as her hands come to rest on your chest, slowly moving onto your shoulders. It's barely been a couple of days since you kissed her last, and yet, you don't know how you've lasted this long without her against you. You don't know how you've managed to see her at work for two days, and not just pull her to you and kiss her. You don't know how (or if) you're still able to think rationally, as her kisses are so intoxicating, and taking you so high, it's doubtful you could ever come back down.
The only thing you do seem to know is that you can't stop. Not now. Not when her hand are winding into your hair, or you're gently pushing her down onto the bed behind her, or even when the smallest sign of guilt creeps over you. Not even the guilt can stop you, because it's not enough.
"Oh my god," the door opens abruptly, and the sound of a glass can be heard smashing on the hard floor.
Instantly, you and Nikki spring apart, as you get up, to allow Nikki to sit up, and adjust her dress, which has ridden up, making it even shorter than it already is. For it seems, the only thing that can make you stop is the one person you hadn't even thought about.
Isabel.
Ta-da. I hope this didn't disappoint, especially as I worked really hard to get this up quickly
We're nearing the end now – only a couple of chapters left! Thanks to everyone who reviewed C7: socialitegirl, greyslostwho, KiwiSWFan, Decidedly Average, plume-en-sucre, pinkswallowsun and dinabar - Big hugs and marshmallows to you all!
And please keep reviewing Somebody That I Used To Know – it's a new format for me, and I really want to know if it's any good
Lots of love, Em xx