The Piano Man Project Page 0,68

what he did. She probably wouldn’t like it, but this was his gig, his terms.

He reached for the whisky bottle.

Honey had spent her day in a swan-like state; serene on the surface, frantic on the inside where no one else could see. Her heartbeat was erratic, pounding too fast every time she thought about the night ahead. Her brain wouldn’t function when it came to shop-related matters, and she was hugely relieved by the arrival of an agency chef to help Skinny Steve because her brain wanted to think about Hal and their non-date all day. What should she wear? Where would they do it? She’d changed her sheets before work that morning to fill the time between throwing up her breakfast and leaving the house. Maybe the sofa would be a better idea; they might be able to slide naturally from conversation into sex. ‘How was your day, dear? Fine. Fancy a shag?’

In the end she’d decided that it would be best to just stop trying to plan it and let Hal take the lead. She was after all, the pupil, and he the teacher. By the time there was a knock on her front door just before eight o’clock that evening, she was mildly hysterical and badly in need of a fortifying drink.

‘Shit,’ Honey whispered, struck silent and statue still by the sound of the knock. ‘Shit!’ Her heart seemed to bang around behind her ribs almost as loudly as Hal had banged on the door. He was here. He hadn’t forgotten, or backed out. He was outside her door and she needed to let him in.

‘Coming!’ she called out skittishly, and then cleared her throat and put her hand over her mouth to hold in the horrible urge to gaily add, ‘or else I hope I will be,’ as she opened the door.

‘Honeysuckle,’ he said, and just the sound of her full name on his lips was enough for her to want to gasp, do me. Hal looked the same but subtly different, an ever-so-slightly less grungy version of himself. It was probably the fact that he was wearing a shirt rather than a t-shirt with his jeans, a shirt that followed close against his body and was as inky dark as the hair he’d made an attempt to tame.

‘Shall I come in, or would you like to do it in the lobby?’ he asked, and Honey belatedly realised she had yet to invite him in.

‘Sorry … sorry. Come through.’

In the lounge, Hal took a seat on the sofa, and Honey prevaricated between the other end of the sofa and the chair. The chair won.

‘Unless you expect me to make you orgasm from three feet away using just the power of thought, you’re going to need to come closer.’

Honey laughed nervously. ‘Ha. Yes. Would you, umm, would you like a drink first?’

‘I already had one, but you go ahead. You sound as if you need it.’

‘Do I?’ she said, knowing full well that she did. ‘I’m fine, really. Totally fine. Cool as a cucumber.’ She moved from the chair to balance on the other end of the sofa. ‘See? I’m right here, being cool and calm.’

After a minute’s awkward silence she jumped up again and shot across to the kitchen. ‘I might just get that drink.’

In the kitchen, she banged her forehead three times against the fridge door, called herself an obscene name, and returned with two big glasses of red.

‘I bought wine,’ she said, putting the glasses down on the table. ‘Shiraz. Australian.’

‘There aren’t nibbles too, are there?’ Hal said, low and dry as a bone.

‘No nibbles.’ She sat down alongside him, not quite touching and wishing she’d put the TV on before he came over because it was so quiet and it looked rude to put it on now, as if he were boring her.

He took a sip of his wine, and she took a gulp of hers.

‘So. How was your day?’ she asked, feeling ridiculous.

He put his glass down slowly. ‘Really?’ he said, incredulous. ‘You want to do this that way? Shall we talk about the weather next?’

‘It’s just conversation, Hal,’ she shot back.

‘I haven’t come here to talk. Let’s go to the bedroom.’

Whoa. ‘Easy, caveman. You’ll be flinging me over your shoulder next,’ she said, and when he said nothing, she stood up and muttered, ‘I’ll bring the wine through.’

Hal made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down on the edge like someone in a bed showroom. Honey watched