Not That Easy (22 page)

I lay there frozen. My mouth carried on kissing him, but my brain was not okay. All my horniness had disappeared and I couldn't process anything that was happening. Had I cheated on the boyfriend I didn't know I had?

“What's wrong, Ellie?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, forcing myself to act normally. I wrapped my arms around Nick's neck and said: “I just want you so badly.”

He groaned and slipped his penis into me. I bit my bottom lip as he thrust backwards and forwards, without stopping him or telling him that actually, things were not okay because I had shagged someone else. Who had a girlfriend of his own.

There was no way that tonight would be the night I orgasmed—I could barely feel any moisture in my vagina. It was so dry it actually kind of hurt. I winced. I had to bear the pain; it was my just deserts.

I lay there wondering when the hell my life had stopped being an endless rerun of PG cartoons and turned into this X-rated mess. I was having sex with my boyfriend, when I'd had another man's penis in me less than a week ago, and I had no intention of ever telling him.

I was worse than Sergio.

•   •   •

“Morning, lovebirds!”

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. There was a bright white haze in front of me, but as my eyes adjusted to the light, it slowly turned into a smiling Linda wearing a white summer dress. I was about to sink back into the pillow when I remembered that this was my boyfriend's mother.

I pulled myself up and ran a hand through my hair. “Hi, Linda.” I yawned. “What time is it?”

“Just gone ten a.m. Holly's just showering but I thought you'd like to go in next. I'm taking everyone out to have breakfast in the sun.”

“Oh, amazing. We'll see you downstairs.”

“Good luck getting Nick up—he hates the mornings.”

I smiled brightly as she left the room. Nick could sleep in, but if I wanted to beat Holly in the future-daughter-in-law scales, I had to up my game.

•   •   •

I stood in the hallway seriously regretting my packing choices. It turned out that November weather in the Isle of Wight was not the Arctic rainy winter I had been expecting. Linda was in a summer dress, the men were in shorts and Holly was wearing very cool dungarees just like the ones I'd spent fifty pounds on last month and never worn because it wasn't warm enough.

I shifted uncomfortably in my jeans, plain black long-sleeved top and Converse. Compared to the others, I looked like I was either allergic to the sun or going through a serious goth phase. The worst part was that these were the summeriest—and nicest—clothes I'd brought with me. So much for not trying to look like a London princess; now I just looked like I was born without any dress sense.

“All ready, Ellie?” said Linda, looking anxiously at my lumpy black torso. “Won't you be too warm in that top?”

“It's all I brought with me.” I blushed. “It was kind of cold in London.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “Well, you can always borrow something of Holly's?”

I looked at Holly's size four body and grumpy face. “NO,” I practically shouted. “Um, I'm like . . . very cold-blooded so I get cold really easily. I'll probably be the perfect temperature in this.”

“Okay,” she said doubtfully. “Let's go then.”

We all traipsed out of the house into the blaring sunlight. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that things could be worse; I could have only brought my wellies and forgotten the Converse.

“So what do you think of the Isle, Ellie?” asked Chris. “It's your first time here, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it's lovely. Very, um, warm. And it's nice to breathe the sea air.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I love the sea. It's also pretty green though. Hey, you know what? We should go to the garlic farm. I've heard you can get garlic beer.”

“There's a . . . garlic farm?”

“Oh God, the garlic farm,” groaned Holly. “I grew up in Portsmouth so we had to go for pretty much every school trip. I know it like the back of my hand. We don't have to go, do we?” She pouted at Chris.

“I want to try the garlic beer. Shall we go after lunch?”

Mike nodded ambivalently. “If you think it's worth it.”

“That'll be nice,” said Linda. “We can buy some to take home. It just isn't the same in NZ. I really miss England when it comes to the food and herbs. Do you know what I mean, Ellie?”

“What, me?” I asked in alarm. I had no idea what she meant; the only herbs I'd ever seen were in little glass bottles in Sainsbury's. And I'd never been to NZ—how was I meant to know what the cuisine was like?

“Mum just misses British food,” explained Nick, coming up behind me. “So, what pub are we going to?”

“Just the one round the corner,” said Holly mid-puff on her e-cig. “They've redone it so it has this huge terrace. It's perfect for this weather.”

“Yeah, I can't wait to get the pints in,” said Chris. “Let's have a big one tonight. I haven't got on the drink properly for a long time.”

“We'll show you a bit of the Isle of Wight nightlife, Ellie.” Nick grinned.

“It's going to terrify the poor girl,” said Holly.

“I'm pretty sure it won't,” I replied. “I've survived Tiger Tiger on a student night, so I reckon I can survive anything.”

“Isn't that up in Piccadilly?” asked Nick. “I think my colleagues go there sometimes.”

“Are they sex pests? 'Cos it's a full-on meat market there. After a night there, I'm sure I can handle anything you've got going on down here.”

“Yeah?” said Holly. “Can't wait to see it. Oh, just one thing, everyone dresses to impress so you might want to ditch the thermals.”

I rolled my eyes at her back and followed the group into a nearby pub. There were a bunch of tables in the shade and one straight in the sun. I resigned myself to an afternoon of serious sweat patches as Holly led the group straight to the sunny table, and thanked God that at least black hid sweat stains.

“This is nice, isn't it,” said Linda. “We can get some cold drinks, some good British pub grub and get to know each other better. Ellie, welcome to the family.”

Family? I smiled faintly and prayed it would rain.

“So what do you do, Ellie?” asked Chris, as he put his arm around Holly. I glanced at Nick and he grinned supportively.

“Ellie works for the
London Mag
, which is this really cool online magazine,” he said. “She has her own column too.”

“Really? How exciting,” cried Linda.

“Yeah, it's cool, I guess. But it's still just unpaid, so it's not that big a deal.”

“I'm going to Google you,” announced Holly.

I sat up in alarm. “What? No! Don't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because they're, um, kind of private?”

“Nah, don't look them up, Holly. I don't know if us lads could deal with it—Ellie said they're pretty detailed. All about periods and stuff I really don't want to know about,” said Nick.

I shot him a look of gratitude. “Yeah, exactly. Really not lunchtime appropriate. The whole column is called ‘NSFW,' but it's really not safe for any social occasion.”

“En es ef what?” asked Linda.

“Not safe for work.” Holly grinned. “It means Ellie's written a sex column.”

“What?!” I shrieked. “No, no, I haven't.” Oh God. I was fucked. There was no way she wouldn't Google it now. This weekend was going from bad to worse.

“It's about sex?” asked Nick. “I thought you just wrote about, like, periods and feminism or something. Fuck—am I in it?!”

Oh God.

I looked down at my hands with their chipped nail polish. Maybe if I ignored this whole situation it would just go away?

It didn't.

“No, of course you're not,” I finally said, looking up at the table, feeling my cheeks burn. “Can we, um, please not talk about this? Please?”

“Oh bless the poor girl, you're all embarrassing her,” cried Linda. I shot her a grateful smile and went back to staring at my hands. “So, boys, when are you both coming back home for a visit? Magda and Cassandra miss you.”

“Dogs,” said Mike. “Not their other girlfriends, don't worry, Ellie.”

I tried to smile at him but couldn't bring myself to engage in any banter. All I wanted to do was finish this breakfast, get the garlic farm over and done with, and go to sleep in a very, very cold room. Preferably somewhere very far away from the Isle of Wight.

•   •   •

Chris parked the van up next to a tractor and we all got out. There was a small brick cottage in the middle of lots and lots of muddy fields. This was the famous garlic farm.

“So, um, where's the garlic?” I asked.

“In the ground?” said Holly.

“Oh, right, obviously.” I laughed. I'd imagined tall fields of greenery but I was clearly pretty far off the mark.

“This is literally all there is,” she said. “I have no idea why we're even here.”

“For the beer,” cried Chris. “Who's keen to go straight to the restaurant?”

“Oh, why don't we go for a stroll first?” suggested Linda. “I'm keen to walk off that pie I just had.”

“We can get the tractor,” said Holly. “They do tours for like two pounds each.”

“Two pounds? I reckon we walk,” said Mike.

I suppressed a sigh. I would definitely have preferred to sit in a tractor than walk around a bunch of muddy fields.

“How are you doing, babe?” Nick came up to me and gave me a kiss as I ploughed through the muddy path. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said, feeling a wave of guilt come back over me. I wished he wasn't so bloody nice—it just made me feel worse about what I'd done with Ollie. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

“Yeah, this lot are pretty full on.” He grinned. “Why don't we lag behind a bit and have a romantic walk of our own?”

“Yes, please,” I cried. This was the first suggestion I'd heard all weekend that I was genuinely glad to do.

“Cool. So what do you think of the Isle of Wight?”

“Really nice,” I lied. “It's so good to get out of London, you know?”

“Tell me about it. I'm a farm boy, remember? I can't be dealing with the Big Smoke for too long.”

“Really? Do you think you'll go home soon?”

“Maybe, but I don't have solid plans. And, hey, don't worry—I'll take you with me if I do move back.”

I coughed loudly. “Sorry, um, dust in my throat.”

“Are you okay, Ellie?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the field.

“Fine,” I said, trying to shift my gaze away from his intense green eyes. What the hell was I doing not jumping into his arms?

“Is it being with my parents? Or Holly? I know she's kind of, um, hostile to new people but she'll get over it. She's probably threatened by how gorgeous you are.”

Oh God, he was observant and thoughtful too. I was the worst person imaginable. He put his arm around my shoulders. Actually, maybe he was so nice that he would understand? Maybe I could tell him about the whole Ollie thing, then he'd forgive me, we'd be all good, and I could enjoy my wonderful boyfriend like I was destined to do?

“Nick,” I said, before I could chicken out. “It's not Holly, it's something else.”

“What is it?” he asked with concern.

I looked around the fields. The others were well ahead and I could barely see Holly's pale yellow hair. I took a deep breath. “Okay, so I, like, didn't realize we were an official thing. Because we'd never spoken about being exclusive, you know?”

“Do you not want to be exclusive then?”

“NO,” I shrieked. “I mean, no, of course not. I definitely want to be. I just, look, what I'm trying to say is that I thought we were casual. So, I . . . behaved casual.”

“Do you mean that whole thing where you took ages to reply to my texts? I'm kind of over that.”

Boys noticed that? Damn. “No, um, not that.” I took another breath. “Nick. I slept with someone else when we were dating. Like, pre us having our exclusive chat. That's okay, right?”

Nick's arms dropped from my shoulders. His face scrunched up in disbelief and he took a step back. “Are you serious?”

Oh shit. This was not how I imagined this conversation was going to go.

“Well, yes, but it was ages ago.”

“Right, okay. When?”

“Um, a week ago?”

“What?! Ellie, we were dating and sleeping together then.”

“I know. But, honestly Nick, it was a one-time thing. It didn't mean anything.”

“Fine, whatever. You're right. We hadn't had the chat; we weren't official. It's fine.”

“Um, I'm not really getting that many ‘fine' vibes off you?”

Nick looked straight at me. “Honestly? You're right—you were allowed to do what you did, but it still makes me feel like shit. I thought I knew you, and now I realize I was wrong. I never thought you'd be the kind of girl to sleep around.”

My inner feminist started to waken. “Um, sorry, what do you mean by that? Why can't I sleep around when I'm single—which, by the way, I thought I was, seeing as you never told me otherwise.”

“I just misread you. My bad. So who even was this guy?”

The lump of guilt came back. “Oh God. So, it was my flatmate. Ollie.”

“I thought you lived with a gay guy and one who had a girlfriend?”

I took a deep breath. “I do. It was the one with a girlfriend.”

Nick took another step away from me. “What the fuck, Ellie? You cheated on me by making someone else cheat too?”

“I thought we'd established I wasn't really cheating on you?” He stared at me with disgust. Oh God. “Nick. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to—I feel so so awful about it. It's the worst thing I've ever done, hands down.”

“I'm such a fucking idiot,” he spat. “I brought you to meet my fucking family because I cared about you that much. But, all the time, you're sleeping with your mate who has a girlfriend.”

“No,” I cried. “I wasn't like that. I didn't . . . know you cared.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I made you dinner, I told you
how great you were and I messaged you the whole time. What about that suggests I didn't care?”

I shrugged helplessly. How the fuck had I misread the past few weeks so badly? “Nick. Please. I'm sorry.”

“Ellie, if you can do that, I don't know what else you're capable of. If you can fuck someone with a girlfriend while you're fucking me then you're not who I thought you were—you're just another slut.”

My mouth dropped open. Had he actually just said that? How dare he call me a slut just for having casual sex? Isn't that exactly what he and I had done when we met—we had a one-night stand. Why was he suddenly convinced I was some kind of Mother Teresa?

“How can you say that?” I cried. “That's so derogatory and . . . and cruel to women. If I was a guy you never would have said that.”