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It’s liberating not trying to impress each other. She’s seen me at my absolute worst . . . and I’ve seen hers; and yet somehow, we just work.
I take out my phone and open my messages, smile when I see Pinkie’s name.
I’ve missed her.
Hi Ed,
I hope your holiday is going well?
Things are going well for me, my new boyfriend is turning out to be lovely.
It’s cold here, wishing I was in the sun somewhere . . . next year I hope to be away.
Enjoy your trip, in no time you will be back to being a garbologist.
Pinkie
Xoxo
I smile. Kate’s laughter echoes and my eyes rise to watch the volleyball game.
This is the weirdest friendship I’ve ever had. Pinkie Leroo is the absolute opposite of the kind of women I date, but she gets me, and I somehow get her.
I like our friendship.
What will I reply?
We walk home along the water’s edge holding hands. “I got you something.”
“What’s that?” She smiles up at me.
God, this could go either way . . .
I put my hand in my pocket and pull out two Cornettos.
Kate stares at them in my hand and her eyes immediately well with tears.
Fuck.
“I mean . . . I just thought,” I splutter. “It’s our last night and all . . .”
Her eyes search mine and she smiles softly and goes up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “Thank you,” she whispers as she takes one from me. “You’re so thoughtful.”
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never that.
She drops to sit on the sand and taps the ground beside her, and we both open our ice creams.
She stares at hers. I watch as a lone tear rolls down her cheek and I don’t know if this was the right thing to do.
I put my arm around her and we both eat our ice creams, me in silence, her through tears.
I can feel the memories and love swimming around in her psyche as they overtake her.
She makes me wish I was a plumber too.
The moonlight streams through the window and I slowly peel off Kate’s dress.
Something’s different with her; something changed between us when I bought her that ice cream.
Her walls came down and I see a new vulnerability in her.
It’s overpowering, intoxicating, and I want her more than ever if that’s humanly possible.
Our lips are locked as we kiss tenderly, our hands undressing each other as fast as we can.
Naked . . . I want to be naked.
She pulls my shorts down and my cock springs free, and I lie her down on the bed.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me?” I whisper.
She smiles up at me and my heart constricts.
“Hang on.” I go to retrieve my condoms.
“El . . . don’t,” she whispers.
“Don’t what?”
“Put on a condom. I want all of you tonight.”
We stare at each other and . . . Fuck me.
This woman . . .
I lie down over her, the urge to be close so overbearing that I couldn’t control it even if I wanted to.
We kiss and hold each other and, with an intimacy I’ve never known, she takes me.
And holds me.
And ruins me forever.
KATE
The plane pulls to a halt on the tarmac and I want to just throw myself onto the floor and kick and scream.
I’m not getting off this plane, you can’t make me.
Elliot lets out a deep sigh as he stares straight ahead. He looks over at me as he leans against the headrest. “We’re home,” he says.
“Yep.” I fake a big, fat smile. “Yay.”
He chuckles and leans over and kisses me. “I know.”
The stewardess—what the hell is her name, anyway? I still haven’t caught it—comes from her little room, retrieves our luggage, and takes it to the door, and then the two captains come out and disengage the door. “Lovely to fly with you.” Elliot smiles, and shakes their hands. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, have a good night,” one of them replies.
A bag attendant boards the plane and takes our bags. “Just these three?” he asks.
“Yes please,” Elliot replies.
He disappears back down the stairs.
“Thank you.” I smile as I make my way out of the door; I’m hit with an icy wall of snow. Everything is white and miserable.
Fucking freezing London . . . ugh . . . why do I come from here?
Elliot walks out behind me and winces. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“Why aren’t I Spanish?” I say.
“Because you’re English,” Elliot says as he takes my hand. “Careful,” he warns. “The stairs are slippery.” He slowly leads me down and into the car that’s waiting, a black Audi, not the Bentley.
The driver is female and she smiles and opens the back door. Huh . . . who’s she?
“Hello,” Elliot says as he gestures for me to get into the car first.
