“What happened to you last night?” I turn, walk over to the jug and flick it on. Coffee will help me with this conversation. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I stand with my back to her trying to look busy. If I look her in the eye she will know without a doubt I’m lying.
“I must have eaten something and I couldn’t stop vomiting. I didn’t want to interrupt your night so I just got a cab.” She stays silent as she listens to my explanation.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask, hoping she bought the burb of lies I have just sent her way. “It was a nice wedding wasn’t it? The bride looked gorgeous didn’t she?” I’m babbling and talking way too fast. “What time did you get home?” I ask as I turn to face her armed with my caffeine.
“I went out with the Stanton boys. We went clubbing.”
I nod, staying silent.
“Do you have something to tell me?” she asks with a raised brow.
“No, why do you say that?”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was at the wedding yesterday.” She rips her hair down from its bun with such force it’s a wonder she doesn’t scalp herself.
“Yes, I know,” I mutter.
“And I was on the dance floor last night.” Dread fills my stomach. “I’m waiting,” she continues to scowl at me.
“Why do you think I have something to tell you?”
“Because the Stanton boys all know what’s going on.”
“What?” I snap. “How do you know?”
“When I was with them last night, I came back from the bar and they were talking about you and Joshua.” Holy crap, my eyes are the size of saucers.
“What did they say?” My heart rate doubles as I hold my breath.
She holds up her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Was Joshua with you?” I ask, secretly hoping she has some info for me, something I can cling onto, anything?
“No, he left after the dirty dancing affair as well.” I put my face into my hands. “Cameron said I should ask you about it. He seemed shocked that I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” I whisper, my eyes wide.
“You tell me!” she yells.
“Oh god, this is terrible,” I wail.
“Tell me,” she urges. Again, another knock, thank heavens for Mum’s impeccable timing.
“Come in,” I yell a little too fast. Bridget scowls at me. I smile as I open the door.
“Hi honey, are you feeling better? I wish you came and got me last night. You didn’t need to catch a cab on your own. Why didn’t you just find me instead of texting me?”
“Yes, why is that Natasha? It’s very unlike you.” Bridget scowls at me as she folds her arms in front of her.
“Come on, we have breakfast at the Stantons’.” I am so not going there. How do I get out of this?
“I still don’t feel well. I can’t come Mum, sorry. I don’t want to risk throwing up in public or on Margaret for that matter.” The thought tickles my fancy and I stifle a smile.
Bridget narrows her eyes at me. “I bet,” she snaps. Mum gives me a reassuring smile that only a mother can give.
“No worries. It’s a shame though. We never catch up with them, never mind, next time.” She rubs my arm and heads over to the lift entrance calling from the hall for Bridget to hurry up.
“When we get home we are meeting Abbie at Oscar’s and I want the fucking truth,” she pokes me hard in the chest.
“Ow, ok,” I whisper, trying desperately to get rid of her. I do wide eyes to her to signify my distaste for this conversation. I dread the impending conversation—my stomach dry–retches just thinking about it. I’m not stretching the truth too far actually; vomiting could be in the very soon foreseeable future. This is a total nightmare. I want desperately to go to breakfast to see him. I need to see him. It’s a need, not a want. I want to see his face after last night but I can’t risk seeing Scott, his brother. I am so embarrassed. I wish I had a vision of what last night looked like. Did I look like the instigator? Was I the instigator? Did he reciprocate my desire? Or did I imagine it? For the next three hours I act like the total loser I am. I download Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’ track and listen to it on repeat while lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, only leaving the bed to dry–retch into the toilet every now and then. I reminisce dancing with him last night, the feel of his unrestrained strength under my hands and the divine smell of him. Hmm, the way he bit my neck. I get goose bumps just thinking about it. His want for me, his pure maleness…is that even a word? I can’t help but smile—my god he sure does shine bright, like a diamond that is. He’s still got it and, worse than that, I still want it. Joshua Stanton is too beautiful for words.
6.00 pm, Oscar’s
Bridget hasn’t talked to me all day other than to tell me Joshua didn’t show for breakfast with his family. We are waiting for Abbie to arrive, sipping our coffee in silence. I don’t know why she’s pissed off as I’m the one everyone is talking about. I just wish I knew what they were saying.