The Cure

Chapter 20

Lola walked in, starting with surprise as she looked about the remaining dozen of his guests.

Nathaniel sobered up in the space of twenty seconds; there was a lull in the conversation amongst the stragglers as they turned to see the intruder.

She looked tired, Nathaniel thought as he observed the dark semi-circles beneath her eyes; but she waved a hand towards the banner with a nod and a sunny smile, smoothing her hair self-consciously, hesitating by the doorway.

'Congrats, Nate,' she said through the smile; he returned it, his lips creasing gently into his cheeks. His name sounded better when it tripped off her tongue.

'Thanks.'

'God, just finished?' Melissa slurred towards the clearly uncomfortable newcomer, who was taking off her shoes and hanging up her coat. Lola smiled, shaking her head, as Nathaniel noticed that she hadn't closed the door.

A few moments later, Jared swaggered past the frame.

Nathaniel swallowed, his Adam's apple tight against his skin; he threw back the shot that had long lingered in his fingers, emptying his mouth with difficulty, and coughed, grimacing as he searched for a bottle.

'Do you want one?' He held the bottle of tequila up, a wince of a smile creeping over his lips. Jared grinned instantly, ever delighted with the idea of a party, accepting the drink that Nate held out to him before heading to the record player to reassess the music situation.

Nate held another glass up to Lola, who hesitated still beside the door.

'Sorry about this,' he muttered with an apologetic half-smile, moving casually towards her, 'I didn't think it'd go on so long.'

'It's OK.'

'Really?' The smile quirked upwards further, his first real smile of that whole, long evening, raising an eyebrow. Lola felt herself at once disappearing, and thrumming slowly into life, drowning in his shadow as he approached. 

Hell, she was used to men, to attracting men, to attractive men; but for the life of her, she couldn't look up at this one. She swallowed, feeling her stomach pulling as the floorboards announced his arrival at her side.

'After all these months of my having a go – you're going to deny yourself the opportunity to get your own back?'

She held her shot glass aloft with her own small smile.

'I'm not really in a position to talk.' She looked about her with a slow, appreciative nod, pushing the front door slowly closed behind her. 'Cocktails and canapés—'

'Classy, huh?'

'—it's not exactly strangers fucking in your bed at six in the morning.'

'Thought they weren't strangers.' The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, an eyebrow still raised teasingly as she bit her lip, her expression apologetic. 'Well, this makes us even.'

'Not really,' her voice still rang with gentle and embarrassed contrition as her eyes flickered over the partygoers. 'I am sorry, you know. For all that. I was selfish.'

He shrugged, tilting a head towards the record player. 'Well, at least your music was decent when it kept me up.'

'Music's shit,' she murmured fervently.

'Music's shit,' he agreed with a laugh, and Lola realised that in avoiding his gaze, purposefully studying the room and its guests, she had missed the chance to see him smile. 'How was work?'

'Cleaned up at least three piles of sick.'

'The stuff of dreams.'

Lola's only retort was a gentle, breathy laugh.