Jane O'Reilly - Indecent...Nights

‘Fuck me. Amber is the woman in the photo?’

I’d forgotten Victoria was right behind me. I open and close my mouth a couple of times as I try to figure out whether or not I should lie. I mean, clearly I should lie. Amber is my friend, my best friend, and the last thing I want is for Victoria to go all bat shit crazy on her arse.

But then Amber looks up. I know the instant she puts her gaze on Victoria. A fire seems to flick on in her eyes as Paul sits bolt upright and goes completely stiff. Tom, well. He’s still slouching in his chair, exactly the way he was when I left him. I see the movement of Paul’s throat as he swallows, and then I see something else. Amber’s right hand is out of sight.

And Paul keeps on swallowing and blinking, and suddenly it hits me.

She’s fondling him under the table. And he’s letting her do it. And his fiancée is breathing down my neck, and Tom is right there, on the other side of Amber, and I’m involved in a five-way love triangle without even realising it. How did I end up here? I’m just a photographer. I haven’t even had an exciting two-way love triangle yet, so a five-way one is completely out of my area. This is all going to end badly. Horribly, messily badly, right here in the delicatessen. And I don’t know how on earth to get out of it.

Tom gets up from the table and walks towards me as Victoria whips around the outside, marches to the table, and takes his seat next to Paul. OMG. Any minute now, the world is going to end, and it’s all going to be my fault, and I’ll never have known what it was like to be banged into the middle of next week by Tom Hunt.

And now I’ve made that thought real inside my head, I can’t escape from it. It’s still there, shouting at me, when Tom stands in front of me, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, looking at me in that awkward way of his.

It completely undoes me.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘This day just keeps getting stranger.’

‘You think?’

He nods. ‘It could only get stranger if aliens landed.’ He glances down at the floor. ‘Well, I guess I’d better be getting back to work.’

No. No! We were talking, and he was letting me touch him, and I haven’t touched him nearly enough. ‘Already?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Could we…’ I stutter over the next word. No matter how hard I try, it won’t come. ‘When will we be able to…that is, I’d like to…’

‘Fuck?’ He supplies helpfully. The woman at the nearest table glares up at us, but Tom is seemingly oblivious.

It’s no good. I can’t say that word. ‘I’d like to see you again. If that’s OKwith you.’

‘Of course.’ He smiles at me, a big, happy smile. Then he reaches out and takes my hand. The gesture is sweet, charming, boyish, and his hand is warm. I shiver at the thought of that hand sliding over my flesh. ‘It is more than OKwith me. Tomorrow?’

Yes. Oh, yes. Please. Yes. But before I can get the word out, a shout comes from behind us. Amber. I dodge around Tom in time to see her storm out, arms folded, high heels loud on the tiled floor. Victoria and Paul are still at the table, and from the corner of my eye I see Victoria lean in, see their mouths touch. Oh, no. This was the last thing Amber wanted. The very last thing. Victoria, you lying bitch, I think to myself. You didn’t want Amber to be part of it. You wanted to know who she was so you could hurt her.

My heart sinks, but Tom is still holding my hand, holding on tight. He is still warm and next to me. He is still here, with me. And I know, now, that I have to be with him. Watching a life fall apart in front of you will have that effect, I’m discovering. I move closer to him, so close I can feel his breath warm my cheek. Everything is so screwed up.

‘I have to go after her,’ I tell him, trying to tug my hand free.

‘I know,’ he says, smoothing a stray strand of hair back behind my ear. The gesture is just a little thing, nothing at all really, and yet my entire body reacts to it. He’s so crude, and then so tender. I don’t know what to make of it at all. ‘But promise me you’ll meet me tomorrow. We need to fuck, Ellie.’

I find that word less shocking, now. But its power to excite me is increasing every time he says it. ‘Where?’

‘Where would you like?’

‘My studio?’ It’s the first place I think of.

His mouth widens into a lopsided smile. ‘Perfect.’

Then he lets me go. But by the time I make it outside, Amber has gone.

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