I shake my head. ‘I really don’t?—’
‘It’ll help you relax,’ Felix says, but I don’t want to relax. Instinct tells me I’ve already crossed the line between sober and drunk. But it’s such a fine line. One minute I was feeling all warm and fuzzy. The next, the whole restaurant was starting to spin. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself and look to Dominic for back-up, but he’s refilling everyone’s glasses, his eyes glazed and his face a picture of concentration as he tries not to spill any on the white tablecloth.
I’m trying to catch the eye of one of the waiters when I feel a hand rest lightly on my knee. I freeze, then glance sidelong at Felix, but he’s lost interest in trying to persuade me to down my shot and is deep in conversation with Simone.
Maybe I imagined it.
I accidentally drop my napkin, swinging my legs to the left as I bend down to scoop it up off the floor. I sway, off-kilter, like I’ve just stepped off the roundabout at the playpark, and for an excruciating moment I fear I’m going to be sick like I was when I was seven and Mum made me drink that tumbler of wine. Just the thought of it sends another wave of nausea rolling over me. Oh God. Being sick at the table would be unforgivable. I slowlysit back up and press the napkin to my lips until, miraculously, the contents of my stomach stop pitching. Felix’s hand slides away and I let out a long breath.
I paste a smile on my face and pretend to listen to the conversations going on around me while I give myself a talking-to. I need to stop overreacting every time a man looks my way. Felix is being friendly. Fatherly. Just because I’ve had a bad experience doesn’t mean I should tar all men with the same brush. They’re not all creeps. They’re not all Rob Harvey.
I lean back, giving a small start when I realise Felix’s arm is now snaked along the back of my chair. Don’t overreact, I tell myself. He is not Rob Harvey.
A waiter brings me a coffee, which is weird, because I didn’t think anyone had heard me. It’s black and topped with cream and is in one of those glasses they serve lattes in at home. I take a slug, hoping it’ll help sober me up, my eyes widening as heat hits the back of my throat. I wipe my mouth with my napkin.
Dom looks over, amused. ‘I didn’t know you liked Irish coffee.’
‘She’s a dark horse, aren’t you, Amber?’ Felix says. His hand grazes my bare shoulder. I try not to shudder.It’ll be accidental. Your boyfriend is literally feet away. Don’t overreact. I rub my arms as if I’m cold, shrug on my denim jacket and rise, unsteadily, to my feet.
‘Just going to the ladies.’
The toilets are right at the back of the restaurant and I cannon off a couple of tables on the way, appalled at how drunk I am. I let myself into the small, darkly lit ladies’ loo. The latch is broken so I plant my foot against the door so no one can come in, then sink onto the seat with my head in my hands, wishing I hadn’t let Felix talk me into having that bloody Kir Royale.
When I’ve finished, I wash my hands, trying not to catch the eye of the bloodshot girl in the grainy mirror above the sink. Idrag my hands through my hair, straighten my jacket and head back out into the corridor.
‘There you are!’ says a deep voice. Felix. My pulse quickens. ‘I thought I’d come to check you were all right, seeing as your boyfriend is currently gazing lovingly into my wife’s eyes.’
He is slurring too, each word running into the next like a stream of consciousness, so it takes a moment to realise what he’s actually said.
‘Dom and Simone?’
He gives a bitter laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed Dominic still has the hots for her? Come on, Amber, it’s obvious to everyone else.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘When did you last look in the mirror, darlin’? You could be Simone’s younger, prettier little sister. Either Dominic’s reverting to type, or he’s trying to make Simone jealous. Thinking about it, it’s probably both, the little shit.’
He moves closer, planting his hands on the wall behind me, his arms creating a cage that’s impossible to escape. I shrink back, making myself as small as I can.
‘Felix, I?—’
‘Well, two can play at that game. While they’re happily reminiscing about their college romance andThe GreatfuckingGatsby, you and I can have a little fun, yes?’ He leans forwards and strokes my cheek.
I snap my head away. ‘No, I don’t?—’
His voice hardens. ‘Don’t be a prick-tease, Amber. You can’t spend the week cavorting about in your bikini and then claim you don’t like the attention.’
‘No!’ I shove at his chest, but he’s too strong. Too determined.
‘No one needs to know,’ he says softly as his hand claws at the hem of my dress. My shoulder is jammed against the door frame. Tears roll down my cheeks.
‘Please, Felix?—’
Our teeth clash as he kisses me. His fingers slip under my dress and into my knickers. I try to scream but am silenced by his ugly, gaping mouth clamped on mine.
Please no please no please no. The words are a sound reel in my head, playing over and over. I can’t believe this is happening to me again. I wish I could shrivel up and die.
‘What thefuck?’
