In Harmony(5)

“He’s trying to work out what to do. I think he needs a project—it’s been months. Right now, he’s just taking me to Fenbrook in the mornings and then sitting around the house. Or he and Neil go on some long blast on their bikes.”

Neil was Darrell’s friend, a huge, scary-looking biker who—I still couldn’t wrap my head around this—had somehow got together with Natasha’s flat mate, Clarissa. What the attraction was, I had no idea. She was all Prada and champagne parties and perfectly-styled blonde hair, and he was all muscles and attitude and whispered comments in her ear that made her flush and squirm and…okay, I could sort of see the attraction.

Natasha sipped more coffee. “Anyway, I don’t know if it’s because he’s not working on anything, but he’s….”

I waited. “Yes?”

She shrugged, blushing a little. “Insatiable. You know how it is, when they’re like that.”

I really don’t, I thought, a little angrily. I wasn’t what you’d call experienced, when it came to men and sex. In fact, you know that thing where you’re the exact opposite of experienced? I was that.

Yes, at twenty-one. I know, okay?

Of course, I hadn’t shared that with my friends. I’d lied when the subject had come up, and invented a firefighter (no, I don’t know why a firefighter, I was thinking on my feet) who’d seduced me at eighteen—that seemed believable. Since I’d come to Fenbrook, there’d been various attempts to set me up with someone, none of which had got past the first clumsy kiss.

“Remind me,” I said. “It’s been a while.”

Natasha checked there was no-one listening and leaned forward. “It’s not the nights. I mean, you expect the nights. The nights are great. But as soon as we get home…last night he just shoved me up against the wall.”

I swallowed. “Really?” I tried to sound only vaguely interested.

“The night before, we didn’t even make it home. He turned off the highway and took me into the forest, and then—”

I was leaning forward myself, now. I couldn’t help it. “Up against a tree?”

Natasha was suddenly staring fixedly at her coffee. “Um. There was a log on the ground, actually. He bent me over it.”

Something darkly hot swept through me. Was it wrong, that I was this interested? What choice did I have, given my total lack of a sex life?

Natasha was lost in the memories now. “And then last night, he gave me this massage, and it went on for hours. It felt incredible—I think it’s because he’s used to making things, you know? He’s so dexterous. And I was on my back—this is, like, two in the morning, now—and suddenly he starts going down on me—”

“Right,” I said, my face flushing. “Okay—”

But she was on a roll. “And it went on for hours—I mean, it can’t have been hours, but it felt like hours, I was just like—”

“Mm-hmm, got it—”

“I mean, I was on the ceiling, just floating higher and higher, and then he put his tongue—” She glanced up at me and broke off. “Oh. Sorry. Too much?”

“Not at all,” I said lightly. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

She yawned. “Happy but exhausted,” she said apologetically. “Hey, you’re coming out tonight, right?”

I considered. Bars were really not my thing, but I knew I needed some breathing space away from the music, even if just for a few hours. Preparing for the recital was a marathon, not a sprint. I had to pace myself, or I’d be risking a repeat of Boston.

Don’t think about Boston.

“Sure,” I told Natasha.

She grinned. “Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll meet a billionaire who wants me to play the cello for him in his batcave.”

“It’s just a basement, not a—You’re as bad as Clarissa!” She drank the rest of her coffee and then frowned. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Twenty after ten.”

“Shit! Practice started five minutes ago. Miss Kay’s going to kill me!”

She ran for the door, long dancer’s legs eating up the distance, and I was left alone. A good thing, because thinking about Boston, even just for a second, had started a chain reaction in my head and I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else unless I let it run its course. I sat there sipping coffee, outwardly calm, and let the memories surge up inside and consume me.



***



A decision had been made in my life, many years ago now. So long ago that I didn’t know exactly when it was made, or even who’d made it: me, or my father. I honestly had trouble remembering a time before it.