Cross Her Heart: The gripping new psychological thriller from the #1 Sunday Times bestselling author. Sarah Pinborough
Cross Her Heart: The gripping new psychological thriller from the #1 Sunday Times bestselling author
other. He’s a good kisser compared with most of the other boys I’ve been out with, but tonight it feels like an invasion.
Why hasn’t he messaged me?
He’s grinding hard against my thigh. I have to do it. I haven’t got a choice – everyone’s expecting it. They’ll be laughing and chatting and dancing downstairs, but inside they’re all wondering if we’ve done it yet. Is it going to hurt? Am I going to be different after?
I’d thought about backing out somehow, but then that woman in the pub knocked my bag off the table and sent all my stuff flying everywhere. The girls saw the condoms and Ange went all weird American for a while. Once the laughter and teasing had died down, she said black boys don’t use condoms, and we’d all called her a racist, but she insisted it was true before Lizzie said it wasn’t only black boys, it was all boys if they could get away with it, which is why she’s on the pill. I laughed with them, but Jodie must have seen how uncomfortable I was feeling because when we went to the loo she whispered that there are only a couple of days in the month you can get pregnant in anyway and so not to worry.
‘You okay with this?’ Courtney’s got my bra hitched up over my boobs and his eyes look all funny and the words are breathless. Needy.
I nod, even though I am not all right with this any more. He’s already pushing my skirt up. Everything’s clumsy. Not like it was when I imagined it.
What would he think if he knew what I was about to do? Would he be jealous?
The condom is still in my bag on the other side of the room. A continent away. How am I supposed to mention it? I should have said about it before. His jeans are undone and yanked down and he grabs my hand and pushes it into his crotch. He groans as I touch him, and his shaking hands yank at my knickers but we get caught up in a tangle and our teeth clash together. I take control and there’s a pause as I wriggle my pants off, and as I do, he looks at me properly.
‘You know I really like you, don’t you?’ he says. ‘I’ve never gone out with a girl like you before.’
It makes me feel slightly better about all this, and so I take the moment to tug my top off too. He might not be naked, but I am. If I’m doing this, I’m not doing it being half choked by my own bra.
‘You’re beautiful.’
This time when he kisses me, I try to be in the moment even though beautiful is his word, not Courtney’s. Courtney normally calls me hot despite the fact I know I’m not. Not really. I think of the condom again but it’s too late to mention it now. He’s poking and prodding and nudging, trying to get it in, and I realise that maybe he’s not quite so experienced at this either.
And then we’re doing it. Or rather, Courtney’s doing it. I’m just lying here and trying not to think about how different it would be with him.
LISA
‘Hey, everyone! Smile!’ It’s Emily, face glowing, a mobile phone held up in the air over us. I turn away automatically, one hand flying up across my face. ‘No photos,’ I say.
‘It was only for Facebook.’ Emily sounds hurt. ‘So my boyfriend and family can see who I work with.’ She’s very sweet but very young.
‘I don’t want photos of me on your Facebook either,’ Julia says. Her voice is sharp, a cutting blade that takes no prisoners. She’s late, arriving only moments ago, and I wonder if she’s irritated because she looks hot and bothered rather than her usual cool self, but I’m still surprised – and relieved – by her interjection. Marilyn knows I hate having my picture taken, but this time I’ve been saved from having to explain myself to new people. Maybe Julia and I have something in common after all. ‘And anyway,’ she continues, ‘it’s hardly professional, taking selfies at a work do. This isn’t some cheesy club.’
‘More of a celebration than a work do,’ Marilyn cuts in, seeing how stung Emily is. The poor girl looks like she might cry. ‘But you may have a point. Not everything in life has to Facebooked and Instagrammed.’
She’s saying all this as much for my benefit as anything else. I don’t have any social media accounts even though Marilyn swears you can set your profile to completely private. I still wouldn’t trust it, and who would I have on there? Only Marilyn probably, and I see her most days as it is. ‘Oh shit, I sound old.’ She groans over-dramatically, lifting the mood as only she can. ‘Come on, Lisa, let’s grab us all another wine before the money behind the bar runs out.’
We separate from the others, leaving Toby to continue his obvious hot pursuit of Stacey, and make our way to the bar. I didn’t want to come tonight. No matter how much I’ve tried to shake it, my stomach has been a river bed of slithering eels since finding the rabbit, and the past clings like an oil slick on feathers, breaking my heart all over again. It’s taken everything I have not to spend my time following Ava around to make sure she’s safe, which I’ve worked really hard at not doing now she has more freedom. Trying to hide how I’m feeling is exhausting and if there was any way I could have got out of coming to the party, I would have, but there was no way I’d have got away with it. This is Penny’s once-a-year company and clients drinks and nibbles, and with the new staff, the second branch opening, and my new contract, she wouldn’t have been happy.
In that respect, Julia was right. We may be in a salsa club, but this isn’t a girls’ night out. It’s still, in some ways, work. However, as I lean on the bar next to Marilyn, I’m surprised to find I’m feeling better for coming out. The music is full of life and the words are foreign so I can’t get snared by lyrics of love or loss.
‘God, I could use a tequila shot,’ Marilyn says, and I laugh although I’m a bit surprised. Marilyn drinks more than me – but everyone does. I know what too much alcohol can do to people and none of it is good. I can’t stay alert when I’m drunk and I have Ava to protect. Still, Marilyn’s not a drinker drinker. I can’t remember the last time she did shots. Her eyes shine a little too bright. How many wines has she had?
‘You okay?’ I ask. She doesn’t answer.
‘Well, well, well,’ she says, as she looks at something over my shoulder. ‘Look who’s showed up. Mr Millionaire himself.’
I glance back. Simon Manning is standing in the doorway, dressed down in dark jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. My wine glass is suddenly too big and slippery in my hand and it feels like the party pauses for a moment. It’s rare for major clients to come to these things. Penny always invites them but it’s mainly staff who turn up – now two branches’ worth – and some of our longest-serving temps. Penny does a separate private dinner for the top-level clients.
The room is quite dark and he probably doesn’t realise he’s ‘making an entrance’ as he stands there, backlit, and peers around trying to recognise anyone. Finally he moves. My breath catches.
‘What a surprise,’ Marilyn drawls. ‘He’s coming this way.’
I look behind me, expecting to see Penny nearby, but she’s over by the side tables where Julia is talking to James from the new office.
‘Lisa.’
I have no choice but to look at him. He’s standing close, barely a foot away, and my nerves jangle and I feel awkward as his aftershave and body heat fill the gap between us. I’m no aftershave connoisseur, but he smells good. Fresh and citrussy, but not overpowering. I hate myself for noticing.
‘Hello, Simon.’ She reaches forward and shakes his hand, as ever saving the day for me as I flounder. I take the moment to try and gather myself. I need to stop behaving like a stupid teenager. ‘Welcome aboard, I hear.’
I wish I found it as easy to talk to people. Marilyn is so confident. Friendly without being flirtatious. An