‘Leaving so soon?’ he called out to her, hoping he sounded casual.
She turned around and regarded him with a cool, calm expression. ‘Yes, I’ve got somewhere else to be.’ Was it him or did she seem pissed off? Either way, he realised that he didn’t want her to go, he was desperate to convince her to stay for a drink. But he found himself tongue-tied and had no idea what to say to her, so he just stood there like an idiot. He could barely conceal his disappointment when she swivelled on her heel and sauntered out, no doubt heading off to meet some twenty-something bloke with no wife and kids at home to worry about.
In the bar, he drowned his sorrows with a lager and made polite conversation with colleagues before excusing himself and heading home. As he sat on the train, he told himself that he was being ridiculous. Of course nothing could happen between them, he was married and she probably wasn’t interested anyway.
But at home, as he opened a bottle of red wine and half watched a chick flick that Kate had already started, he found himself thinking about her, the way she’d looked at him, in fact, the way she’d looked full stop – sexy and unobtainable. For the rest of the weekend his mind kept flickering back to her over and over again. By the time Monday rolled around, he couldn’t get to the office fast enough. And sure enough, there she was, almost as if she’d been waiting for him the whole time.
‘Good weekend?’ he asked her.
‘Could have been better,’ she replied and, although he couldn’t be sure what she was referring to, he knew exactly what he hoped it was. And he promised himself that the next time he had an opportunity like that, he wasn’t going to fuck it up.
So the following month, when she mentioned that she was going to Free Drinks Friday again, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be there.
They had sex that night. It was the first time he’d had sex in a very long time and it was quick and over too soon. Afterwards, he felt awful. He left as quickly as possible and got the train home. The heady combination of booze, lust and adrenaline had worn off and he felt tired and empty, like an addict after the hit has passed. By the time he got home Kate was already asleep and he sat in the kitchen with a whisky until 2am, thinking dark, guilty thoughts and eventually drinking himself into oblivion. The next day he woke up with a heavy head and an even heavier heart. Kate turned to face him and gave him an unsympathetic look. ‘Late night?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I ended up going to that free drinks event they do each month. I had to show a bit of face, rally the troops. There’s some redundancies in the pipeline and everyone’s feeling a little rattled,’ he told her, surprised at himself at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue.
‘Well, you’re on swimming duty and there’s nothing like two overexcited girls, manky changing rooms and a sweltering pool to kill off that hangover,’ she said, looking at him almost victoriously, he thought, as she got out of bed and slipped her dressing gown on. He groaned and shoved a pillow over his head.
He wondered what Claire was doing that morning. Not going down to the local swimming pool that looked like it hadn’t seen a lick of paint since the 70s, that was for sure. Probably staying in bed until 10am before eventually rousing herself to get ready so she could meet friends for brunch at some trendy café. He briefly felt a pang of resentment at the thought of her commitment-free Saturday and the fact that he couldn’t be enjoying it with her. Then he got out of bed, stretched and padded over to the bathroom, turning on the shower and reaching for his toothbrush. ‘Just another day in paradise,’ he said aloud to himself as he opened the shower door and walked into the hot stream of water, cleansing his sins and transforming him back into the role of doting family man.
On Monday he felt nervous as hell about seeing her again. He’d spent the weekend convincing himself that it was a one-off and that it would never happen again. He didn’t want to be disrespectful to her, so he’d planned to go in early as usual, before the crowds arrived, and explain that she was lovely but that his situation was complicated and it wouldn’t be right to pursue this any further. It was him, not her, etc. But the minute that he walked into the building and saw her looking directly at him, one eyebrow raised suggestively, all his resolve vanished into thin air.
‘Hey you,’ she said, looking up at him as he reached the reception desk.
Thank God there was no one else around at this early hour. He could practically see the sexual tension between them. Get a grip, he told himself. ‘Hey yourself,’ he said back, feeling like a nervous teenager with a crush.
‘So, it was quite an interesting night on Friday, eh?’ she said, avoiding the small talk and cutting straight to the chase. It was typical Claire.
‘Um yes, yes you could say that.’ He felt embarrassed all of a sudden. He hadn’t had the morning-after-the-night-before chat since he was nineteen years old.
‘So what happens next? I think we both know that the ball’s in your court here, Pete. Whatever you decide is totally cool with me. I’d just like to know either way.’
Her
