Moved (6 page)

Could anything feel
any better than this?

No. Nothing. Ever.

I rub his ass and
relish the experience with every fibre of my being.

“Baby, my whole
world's spinning,” he mutters, in a slurred voice, and suddenly he
collapses heavily on me with a strange groan.

I shake him but he
doesn't respond.

“Mason?”

I simply cannot
believe it.

He's only passed out
on me.

His prick softens and
I gently ease him off me, roll him over, onto his side of the
bed.

And I cry myself to
sleep.

I don't know how to
feel right now, I can't share things with him and I really, really
need to.

I wake up with a start.
It's early but I'm wide awake. I look over at his side. The bed's
empty. I reach across and feel the sheet with my hand. It's cold. I
get up and put on one of his baggy t-shirts which covers my bare
ass decently. I venture out, into the living room, but he's not
there. My bedroom door is closed. The cushions are gone though. I'm
not going in there yet. Just in case. I try the bathroom... it's
locked.

“Won't be long,” he
calls out.

Yeah right...

I make myself tea and
toast and a Tassimo espresso for him, using the coffee machine.

I'm standing sipping
and eating in the kitchen doorway when he emerges.

Our eyes catch as he
pads off to get dressed. A minute later he's at my side.

“So...” he says.

“Yeah, so?” I reply
questioningly, my heart rate picks up.

“You no longer have a
spider.”

“Oh, thanks.” I'm
relieved about that. Very relieved.

“He was a biggie. I
could see all his little eyes.”

“Ewww. don't, my
hair's standing on end.”

“I put it in the
bushes across the road, okay?”

“I guess that's far
enough.”

I look at him, waiting
for the other, more important subject matter to arise. He munches
his toast and drinks his coffee.

“About last night...”
he starts.

Here we go.

“Yes?” My heart starts
hammering like crazy.

“You may as well
know... I kinda got it on with Sandy.”

“No...” I say in a
tiny voice.

What? And then he did
that with me, straight afterwards?

My heart goes cold.
Until I realise, that's almost exactly what I did with Jackson,
before him. It all hurts so bad.

“Yeah, I did,
kinda...” he furthers.

“What's 'kinda' mean?
Did you fuck her or not?”

“I kinda did. A few
times.”

“I see. So you're
what? Seeing her now, are you?”

“Not if you don't want
me to. But I figured if you and Jackson were game on, it shouldn't
be a problem.”

Is he being serious? I
can't believe this. Or is he just being evil and rubbing my face in
it?

“I guess it's not a
problem. If Jackson's not a problem with you.”

“Hell, live and let
live eh?” he laughs, in a hollow fashion.

“Yeah, great. Living,
I mean,” I grind out, miserably.

“I'm getting odd vibes
Kaydee. What’s up? I thought you'd be okay about it. Sandy seemed
to think you'd be fine.”

And I had been,
before. But not now. My whole world changed last night. And he's
not even mentioning it. He's scrubbed it from his mind. His brief
brunette fling. I'm not exactly his usual fluff, am I? It must have
been disappointing somehow. Disappointing and so shocking, he
passed out in horror.

I start to tear up and
brim over, my sensitive self coming out in a rush. I run off to my
room. As I get there my phone rings. I grab it and flop on the bed
on my stomach.

It's Jackson.

“Hi,” I sniff.

“Are you okay?”

I clear my throat, and
put on a brave and cheerful voice.

“Yeah, fine, you?

“Great, I've booked us
a table at eight. It's a surprise.”

“Looking forward to
it, speak later, have to go, someone at the door,” I lie.

I click off fast.

I'm so choked.

A strangled sob comes
out of my mouth.

I turn over and get
up. He's standing there, leaning against the doorway.

The tears start to
flow properly.

“Now suppose you tell
me what the tears are about, hmmm?”

“You don't
remember?”

“What don't I
remember?

“Let me remind you. I
was in your bed.”

“Because of the
spider. I remember that of course.
What happened after that
Kaydee?
” his voice rises in alarm.

“What d'you
think?”

“
Oh...no...
” He
says slowly.

“
Oh...yes...
” I
reply in the same manner.

“I'm so sorry. I swear
I can't remember a damned thing.”

“Well that's a shame,
because we became fuck buddies. Just about.”

“Just about?”

“You passed out on me
after the first stroke.”

“Jesus, I didn't? Is
that good or bad news? I don't know what to say.”

I start to cry
uncontrollably. Because for one wonderful moment last night I
thought he loved me and I loved him. And I do love him. But the 'he
loves me' part was a drunken rambling.

“Leave me alone,
please...” I sob.

“But why did you go
along with it? Couldn't you tell I was drunk? I threw a half a
bottle of scotch down my throat. I must have reeked of it. How did
I even get it up? I'm amazed?”

“You seemed sober
enough to me and everything was fully functional. And you said
things. I said things. It was...”

He is watching my
teary face intently, unblinking.

I am so destroyed
inside. But I've gotta do this.

“It was what?” he
coaxes, in a soft voice.

“It was what I wanted
at the time,” I begin. “I must have been drunk myself. Let's forget
it, shall we? Not that you'll have trouble with that.”

His face shows instant
relief.

I try to smile.

He pulls me towards
him and gives me a hug.

I absorb his lovely
fresh smell and die inside a little more.

“I'm really sorry,” he
says, dropping a kiss on my head.

“Me too.”

Maybe we're both
sorry, but for very different reasons.

He changes the
subject. Back to real life and practicalities.

“We need to get some
shopping in. Get dressed and we'll hit the big Tesco for a change
then I'll make us a salad for lunch. Get some vitamins back inside
us after the drinking. Besides, the car needs a run, I haven't used
it for over a week.”

But I need to know one
more thing.

“Who told you? About
me and Jackson? Was it Nat?”

“No.”

I'm surprised.

“So who was it?”

“Well Sandy text me
where you were.”

My stomach squeezes
tightly with hurt.

“She did?”

“Yeah, I took Summer
home, due to lack of interest... and I came home. You weren't here.
so I text you. But you didn't answer. Obviously busy, weren't
you...” he says pointedly. “Anyway, I text Sandy and Nat... She
told me you were at the party. She didn't say anything about
Jackson being there though. I thought he was working. It was a big
shock when I found you two in a lip-lock outside the house.”

I've let Sandy off
temporarily. It would have been nice if she'd told me Mason was
pitching up. Perhaps she thought I was upstairs with Jackson or I'd
left already. I don't know, but it was rather remiss of her. I'll
get to the bottom of that later. I feel she took advantage there.
To get him in her little paws.

“Right....” I
say, flicking my phone and noticing several texts, two from her.
I'm not in the mood to tackle Sandy yet. I need to calm down a bit
more. Think about it and let it all sink in. I'll read them
later.

“Maybe you can tell me
how you two happened?” His mouth is a grim line.

“How we met up or how
many times we did it?” I know I'm fuelling the fire.

His face is stony.

“A summary will do.
Spare me the details.”

I imagine he's
thinking I'm a real slapper right now. He's precious girl buddy
sleeping with his friend and then shagging him as well. But he did
exactly the same with me and Sandy. Although being drunk and having
no memory of it excuses him in his mind, I'm sure.

I put him straight. I
don't want him to think that way about me.

“We met in the bar.
Honestly, I didn't sleep with him. I was too upset about you. I
came home to go to bed. But the spider got there first.”

Bloody spider, it was
his fault. The whole fucking thing.

“You really
didn't
sleep with him?”

“No. Ask him if you
don't believe me. He walked me to the door and left.”

“Now I'm feeling
so
fucking bad.”

“Good.”

It's nice to get my
own back a little.

We're driving to Tesco
when I pluck up the courage to read my texts.

There's the one from
him, Mason.

-where r ya cute
ass

I snigger...

I do love his to the
point text lingo. Like I love everything about him, apparently.

I tell myself to shut
up.

A couple of texts from
other people, one from my mum, all unimportant, and two from
her.

- M on his way. Make
yourselves scarce.

I guess that was my
warning.

And...

- woooo... got him
cornered ;)

Nothing since.

I text her back

- How was it? Hot
enough?

No reply. She should
be at work. Maybe she's busy. I put my phone back in my bag and it
bleeps.

- Doing a colour job.
Speak later OK.

We wander around the
supermarket aisles doing the shopping. This is another one of his
good points. He loves getting the shopping in, choosing the food
he'll cook, and finding little bargains that make his face light up
in victory. I'm the designated trolley pusher and he's the goodies
grabber. I wheel along mindlessly in his wake until he declares the
shopping complete. We arrive at the checkout and he starts loading
the stuff on the counter. I sneak a Cadbury's Chocolate Flake
underneath the veg and hope he doesn't notice.

He does. And gives me
one of his looks. The disapproving type.

“It's only one little
bar of choccy, for fuck's sake,” I mutter.

“Yeah, maybe it is,
but they all add up... and I have to lift it.”

I huff noisily.

Ooh.

“You know, you're a
real nasty bastard at times.”

“No... Just
practical.”

“Well, if we're being
'practical'
all of a sudden
,
perhaps you can pack the
cigarettes up. It's expensive, unhealthy, and it stinks. Maybe
you'd feel fitter and stronger and more able to lift my extra flake
if you quit, hmm?”

“I'm fit and strong
enough. My few smokes don't make any difference.”

“Maybe you should ask
Jackson for some tips. Get some muscles. You could do with some
more bulk,” I suggest, unpleasantly...

“I'm a dancer, not
Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger. My muscle mass is fine.”

“Want me to help you
pack?” The checkout girl says, eyeing us up warily with a little
smile on her lips. She's obviously listening to our conversation
and loving it. It's probably going to be the highlight of her
day.

“S'OK... I'm on it...”
Mason replies quickly, walking to the end to start packing.

I follow him with the
trolley, pushing him out of the way.

“So what you're really
saying is I'm bordering on the chubby size? One little bit of
chocolate, that's all... Well fuck you.”

“Kaydee, you're so
defensive at times. Chill. Out. Yu're beautiful. The perfect size
woman and dancer. Oh, have the fucking choccy bar for God's
sake...” He starts packing with a vengeance. My head swims...

He's said it again.
That I'm beautiful. And he's sober this time.

Suddenly, I don't want
it anymore. The fattening bar of chocolate. I want to stay
beautiful and perfect. Because that's what I am, apparently. In his
eyes, anyway.

I turn around and
return to the conveyor end of the checkout and put the chocolate
back on the display shelf.

The checkout girl tuts
at me noisily and rolls her eyes. I glare back at her. So what if
I'm a pushover. She looks like she could do with giving up
chocolate herself.

He smiles widely at
me, his eyes crinkling. My stomach flips 360 degrees. Twice.

“You can have a nice
healthy banana on the way home instead,” he says. “Then I'm going
to make you your favourite chicken Caesar salad.”

“Mmmm...I do love
that. Am I allowed to have some crunchy croutons on top?”

“Yep... I've got baked
ones... fat free,
and
low calorie dressing,” he announces
with a self satisfied grin.

I stare, transfixed.
My beating heart trying to escape my chest.

He's so lovely at
times, I really could eat him. Stuff the salad. Just fill my mouth
with Mason. There's one part I'd particularly like to nibble
at.

Then I remember. He's
not mine to eat.

I just can't bear the
thought of him being with her. Doing those kinds of things.
Hopefully Jackson will distract me enough to cope with it, while it
lasts. Maybe things will change when I see my gorgeous guy again.
They'd better, or else I'm up emotional shit street; well and
truly.

As if thinking about
her has pressed a magic Sandy button, my phone rings, Big Ben
clanging loud and clear in my bag. Mason gives me an evil look as I
answer it, abandoning the grocery packing.

“It's Sandy... keen to
reveal all the gooey details, I guess,” I taunt.

He grimaces and I
snigger to myself.

I wander over to the
seats, further along, out of his earshot, before answering her.