Just Between Us (15 page)

             
We made it to the ladies room, and I slumped over the toilet, my bad arm tucked into me as I threw up. It only seemed like a minute but must have been a half hour before my mum was there. She rubbed my head as I cried and hugged her.

             
“I’m so embarrassed,” I cried.

             
“Don’t be,” she soothed, “no one will see us. Come on, get these jogging pants and top on, we need to get to A&E.” Somehow the sickness and the seriousness of the situation sobered me up, and I sipped a diet coke that she had brought. “Mick’s outside.” She sighed. “We decided to have a night off the booze and it was a good job.” She hugged me to her. “Come on.”

             
We made our way back out to the corridor, and luckily there weren’t many people around, so I just walked out briskly with my head down as Mum pulled me to her. Mick had pulled into the loading bay directly outside of the hotel. He was talking to Kathryn as we neared the car and looked to me with concern as we pushed through the revolving door.

             
“Thanks, Kathryn,” Mum said.

             
“Let me know how you get on,” she said to me, giving me a hug, “How does it feel?”

             
I looked down to my arm. “It kills,” I winced. Mum opened the back door of the car for me to climb in just as Kyle burst through the doors.             

             
“Hey!” he shouted, walking to the car. Mick was in the front seat with his window rolled down.

             
“Go back inside, son.” he barked.

             
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking to Kathryn and then pulling the back door open that Mum had just closed.

             
“Kyle,” she yelped, “go back inside, honey, enjoy the rest of the party.”

             
“Where’s she going?” He looked to me, but I wouldn’t return his stare.

             
“She’s hurt her arm, Kyle, we’re going to the hospital.” Mum tried to close my door again.

             
“I’ll come,” he said, “move over, Soph.”

             
“No,” Mum pulled him away, “Kyle you’re drunk, honestly, go back inside. Kathryn, take him,” Mum urged her. “Go on … we’ll be home before you.”

             
“Soph …” he shouted. I swallowed and tears filled my eyes again, damn him. I couldn’t let him see me. “Soph …” he said again, and I turned my head. He stood inside the open door, his eyes boring into me as Mum stood behind him pulling him away. “What happened?”

             
“I fell,” I squeaked.

             
“She slipped,” Kathryn said from behind him, “come on Kyle, let your parents take her.” He receded, and his eyes remained on mine.

             
“I’m sorry.” He sighed as the door closed.

             
Mick jumped out of the car. “Stop making a scene, Kyle, did you have something to do with this?”

             
“No,” Kyle squared up to Mick, “why would I?”

             
“Because you’re a nasty little shit, that’s why.”

             
“Mick,” Mum scolded, “get in.”

             
Kyle backed away and looked to me through the window. A few people had gathered to see the spectacle, including Jennie Miller. Kathryn stood next to Kyle as the car pulled away, and I began to cry.

             
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie.” Mum said, “no one will remember this tomorrow.”

             
“I will,” I wailed, “I always will.”

Twelve
–
Just Kyle

I had broken my wrist. We waited an hour and a half at A&E and after three diet cokes and a packet of hula hoops, I felt relatively sober. I had a temporary cast applied and was told to return to the fracture clinic the following day for a permanent cast. I felt hollow. Thank God I didn’t have to return to school after that, the hideous memories were replaying in my mind like a slapstick comedy, and I was sure I could never face any of those people ever again.

             
We arrived home around one am, and Mum helped me into my pyjamas and removed all the grips from my hair, tying it into a bobble.

             
“Night, Sophie,” she said, kissing my head. “You scared me tonight,” she whispered.

             
“Sorry, Mum.”

             
“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t think you’ll be getting that drunk again any time soon.” She laughed.

             
She turned out the light, and I tried to get as comfortable as I could with the cast on. The memories wouldn’t leave me alone, and I cringed as I recalled the way I marched over to Kyle.

             
“Soph?” Kyle croaked from our bathroom doorway, I sat up in bed and stared at him.

             
“Kyle,” I said harshly, “please just leave me alone.” I sighed, “You’ve done it, I’m a fool, there’s nothing more you can do.”

             
He walked to my bed and sat down, facing away from me, his head in his hands. I lay back down, exasperated, and turned away from him. I couldn’t fathom what he wanted to say or what drunken state he was in to be here, but sex was the last thing on my mind. He was there for almost ten minutes, and I tried to force myself to fall asleep. I felt him move, but instead of leaving he climbed inside my covers.             

             
“Kyle,” I turned to him, “get out,” I shouted at him through whispers, “I’ll scream.”

             
“Soph,” he said again, his eyes locking with mine, and I imagined that I saw sorrow there. “I’m sorry,” he gulped, edging towards me.

             
I put my good hand out to stop him. “No more, Kyle, no more sex, Okay? That’s it, you’ve had all you’re gonna get.”

             
“Just let me hold you,” he said softly.

             
I laughed sarcastically. “Who are you all of a sudden, Johnny Castle?”

             
“
Dirty Dancing
?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, and I shook my head, contempt in my eyes.

             
“I hate you Kyle,” I said as tears fell onto my cheeks without permission.

             
“I’m sorry.” He sighed again and inched closer despite my hand that made a pitiful attempt at stopping him. He pulled me into him arms and breathed me in. “I’m a fuck-up, Soph.”

             
“I know.” I sobbed.

             
“I … You just … I’m a selfish prick.” I wiped my tears and tried to regain myself. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was jealous, I wanted you, and I wanted you to look like I’d had you, too.”

             
“What?” I shook my head, I was exhausted from his games, and this day needed to end really soon because I couldn’t take much more.

             
“I wanted to know that I’d had you before that ball, that you were mine and you … you didn’t want me, and I lost it.”

             
“Kyle this changes nothing, what you said, you can’t explain that, it was poison. No one has ever made me feel so small.” I tried to regain my voice, but it was too far away to reach.

             
“I’m a fuck-up, Soph, I don’t know how to be like this.”

             
“Like what?”

             
“Close.” He sighed.

             
“You’ve got friends, you know how to be civil for God’s sake, I can’t feel sorry for you, Kyle. I’m worth more than this.”

             
“I know.” He buried his head in my hair again and squeezed me to him. “You are, I know that, I know that, Okay? And now you’ve hurt your arm ‘cause of me.”

             
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Kyle, I fell, I was pissed, it was an accident.”

             
“Please don’t end it with me, Soph.”

             
“There’s nothing to end!” I snapped.

             
“You’re all I’ve got,” he whispered.

             
“You’re drunk, Kyle, you’ve got everyone eating out of the palm of your hand as usual, every girl wants you and every guy wants to be your friend. Don’t bullshit me just to get one last shag.” I tried to pull away from him, but he held me tightly.

             
“They’re not friends, Soph, that’s not a life, I don’t give a shit about any of them, and that’s why they all like me so much ‘cause they all know they’re replaceable.”

             
“What are you saying?”

             
“I need you, Soph. I’ve been a dick.”

             
“I don’t believe a word you say, Kyle.”

             
He nodded. I was comfortable in his arms, and my body was a traitor to my common sense. Everything about him soothed me. I found comfort in his warm arms, his smell, and his unwavering strength even as I fought to get away. We fell asleep just like that, and the pain in my arm was soothed a little by sleep. When I woke he was still there, and as the memories flooded back in, Kyle held me, and I wondered how much of a struggle it was going to be to rid myself of this dangerous carnival ride of a relationship. Kyle was Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and I was a deer caught in the monster’s headlights.

Now - Kyle

Everything about Sophie King surprised me. Everything about her was an oxymoron when we were growing up. She seemed cold at school, and yet she was so warm at home with her mum and friends. She seemed so perfect and wholesome, yet in bed she’d been like dynamite from one touch. She’d seemed so innocent, and yet she completely gave herself to me and left me wanting more. I knew she hated me back then, but what she gave me when we had those hot moments, wherever and whenever we could find the privacy, blew me away and made me question even that.

             
Sophie King was a diamond and every guy’s fantasy, and she more than fulfilled that when you had her cornered. The best decision I ever made was kissing her on that holiday as I always wondered what it would feel like. She never left you wondering or starved. She gave 110% in everything, and she had me hooked. I’d never had sex with someone who didn’t shy away, she let me do whatever I wanted, and in return took me to places that I’d never been. She gave in to my every whim and trusted me, something no one had ever done before. Sophie was so much more than the shy, pretty blonde girl that people hardly noticed at school. She was the shy, pretty blonde girl who suddenly had all of my attention and who gave me every single thing that I could ever need. It was crazy.

I knew it
couldn’t last, knew that I never should have started something with her as it would have to end eventually, but the time we had was worth it. I’m not a romantic; I’m not mushy or nostalgic. I’m a realist and what I got from Sophie was the fulfilment of my male animalistic needs and a good old rub to my male ego. On paper she was girlfriend material, and had a bright future, but in real life she was a hedonistic animal who bubbled with life and made you want more and more of her time like a desperate drug addict. The fact that she gave this to some boring sales rep of a fiancé who ripped her heart out makes me want to kill someone. He hasn’t ruined her, but he tried and damn near succeeded. I know men like him. They are the ones who want to dull their shiny conquest so that their women don’t know how amazing they are, so that they’ll always stay. The problem is you can’t dull Sophie, and somewhere along the way he realised that and finished it to save face, setting her free.

She
can’t be mine, she never could be, but just being near her makes me want to rip her clothes off, and just spending time with her makes me overflow with contentment. She still surprises me, and she still looks like every guy’s wet dream. The best thing about Sophie is that she has no idea just how much everyone wants to bone her, and she has no idea how hard every guy should have to work to be with her. I did say I wasn’t a romantic; well, I’m definitely not. I don’t do romance and flowers, but Sophie King would probably be the only girl that could force my hand on that one. Only problem is we can never go there again, so I’ll have to be satisfied with smelling her shampoo through friendly hugs and making her laugh as much as I can without ripping her clothes off. Ten years on from my shitty yet privileged childhood, and I’m still sure one thing could ultimately save me, Sophie fucking King.

It had been two weeks since I’d seen her at her worst and two weeks since she lay in that bed like a victim. To see her now was like a breath of fresh air, she had always been the most resilient and strong person I had ever known. As kids we weren’t friends, and to me, she and her princess friends were the “perfect” untouchable crew. They were goody-goodies and over achievers, and I never did fall into that category. I never asked to be anything at school, never paid enough attention to fall into any category, but somehow I got to be popular with a few guys because not giving a shit seems to be admirable amongst dick heads. I had my fair share of girls at parties and chatted them up if I felt like I needed to, but mostly they came to me. I wanted for nothing as far as money was concerned, and girls loved that, but I didn’t really need to woo any of them, just having money seemed to be enough.

My mum tried to love me, God bless her
, but the only thing she ever saw in good old Mick in the end was his money, and so when that broke down she was on the lookout for Mick number two. I had a pretty free reign growing up, and both my parents were too busy with their own social lives to really pay an interest in me. I gained some kudos from my school friends for having an empty house most weekends, which came in handy for losing my virginity as it happens, at thirteen. When Mick met Mags he changed, and he expected me to start towing the line in front of his new family.

However
, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, I wouldn’t be the son he could just pick up and display to Mags as some trophy. Mags tried her best with me, but I didn’t want to be part of their family, and I certainly didn’t want to be anything like the robot Sophie King, the epitome of the perfect teenager. She slotted into the role of step-daughter all too well, and I resented the fact that I didn’t belong anywhere, and yet everyone else had found a home.

When
Mum moved to Spain, I assumed I was going and didn’t care. School wasn’t important to me and friends were replaceable, but that didn’t work out. She wanted to act like a teenager, not have one tag along with her. The only option was Dad and his new perfect family, which was far from my ideal, so I set about keeping my head down and getting out of there as soon as possible. It was probably when I first moved in that I started noticing her more. She was effortlessly good looking, make up or not, and first thing in the morning. She was polite and grateful to the parents, even when I could see that they grated on her. She was careful not to get in my way or anger me, which must have taken some effort, especially when I wanted a fight. She never got in my way in our bathroom or hogged the place, which for a girl must have taken some doing. She was fucking perfect, and I could never live up to that. I hated her for it, but I was entranced at the same time. I watched her at home, at school, and out with her friends if we were in the same clubs. I didn’t know what I was watching, but I think I wanted to see the halo slip. Then we went to Mexico and Jesus the sight of her in her bikini, it was all I could do to contain the hard on. Sophie rocked the bikinis.

When I asked her to the club
that first night it was a joke, or at least I told myself that, and I thought she wouldn’t come, and that’s when the surprises began. She came, she had balls, she had a retort for everything, and she looked awesome. So much so that every guy in the place wanted to jump her and chat her up. The kiss was inevitable, and I was actually surprised I waited that long, the thing I loved was how she didn’t care. She didn’t give a shit about me and wasn’t waiting for me to pounce. She didn’t hang off my every word, and we actually had fun. Something my life severely lacked.

Everything about Sophie King still surprises me
, and the fact that she came here this summer was one. The fact that she seems to need me to recover is another. I can’t have this girl, I never could, but if our parents hadn’t got married I would never have known what type of girl I wanted. One just like her. The problem is no other girl has ever come close, no one has ever wanted me for more than what I can give them, and in the business I’m in, that seems to be all anyone sees. Maybe she could stay forever, and we’d just live like this or maybe some day another guy will realise what she is and what she has to offer, and I won’t get another summer of her to myself.