back to mine?’
‘Will the nosy woman with the key be there?’
‘She hasn’t got a key, you took it off her, remember?’
‘Haha, yes! We have the key! Come on then.’
We wobble our way down the road, and it just feels right to slip my hand into his. A moment later he pulls free, and I feel like I’ve lost a part of me, then his arm is around my shoulders and it feels like it belongs there. We’re offering each other support – mentally and to stop ourselves falling over.
We stare at each other when we get to my front door.
‘This is me.’
‘I know.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Maybe not a good idea.’
I think the walk has sobered him up. He’s right, maybe not.
We both know that this could go horribly wrong if one of us should take a step forward, if one of us should reach out. If he puts his hands on my waist, or I put mine on his shoulders. If our lips were to meet. I know it would be perfect. I know it’s what I want.
I know it would change everything. Spoil everything. Be the beginning of the end.
But oh my God I wish he would.
Because maybe he isn’t the man I thought he was. Maybe he’s not like my dad at all.
But it would still end in tears. Mine. Because I’d just be another girl who wants more than he can give. Like Daisy.
He gives me a gentle shove. ‘Night, Rosie.’
‘Night, Noah.’
His words are soft, and mine match, but I don’t think he hears. He’s already turned away, waving briefly at the bottom of the path without looking back.
Chapter 14
Noah has gone a bit strange on me. You know when you get up in the morning and you have that empty feeling in the pit of your stomach, because you know things aren’t right?
That.
I suppose it’s my own fault. When he didn’t reply to my first text, I should have taken a deep breath and left it. But I didn’t.
It’s just I find it so frustrating if I text somebody about something and then I don’t get a reply. Even though the original text wasn’t that important. I text again, then start to panic that things aren’t right, that I’ve said the wrong thing. So, I text again. And before I know it, I’m getting more and more wound up about something stupid and there is no way back.
I couldn’t just leave it.
Anyway, he’s not replied.
I think we might have spoiled everything. This is what happens when you get drunk with somebody and share your innermost thoughts. You cock things up, because there is no going back to the person you wanted them to see. They can see the other, naked you.
Noah is naked, and he never wanted to be with me. I’m not stupid, I know it’s not me personally. He doesn’t want to be stripped bare in front of anybody. So, he grins and flirts and gets along just fine.
I understand, I truly do. I have my own barriers. I know the version of Rosie that I want the world to see. But this does hurt: the feeling of loss, the feeling that we might have spoiled things and can’t go back to the way we were. If he’d just reply to my bloody texts it would be okay.
It is making me feel sick and churned up inside.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It’s not just the thought I’ve lost Noah that is making me feel a mess, it’s everything.
I am so glad I don’t have to go into work today. It’s not just that I have an alcohol induced hangover, I’ve also got a mental hangover – total brain ache. I zonked out the moment my head hit the pillow, then was awake two hours later feeling slightly sexually frustrated and majorly annoyed with myself. Sending texts that I shouldn’t.
What was that last night? I really could have grabbed Noah and kissed him. As in totally snogged his face off. Tonsils, tongues and tits as my mate at school used to say when we were young and hormonally challenged.
We were drunk; definitely, totally smashed. And I was sad for him, so it would have been wrong; it would have been a pity snog. That’s it!
No, it wouldn’t, who am I trying to kid. I really wanted to snog him. I wanted to feel his hands on me. I wanted him to rip off my new sexy underwear and ravish me.
Oh shit.
I put my hands