Score: Unfaithful - Rihanna
Lydia
Patrick arrives at the flat at eight o'clock to the minute. He rings the doorbell and my father answers the door. I walk in the hallway, ready and draping my trench coat over my shoulders. It has gotten even colder outside, and my silk shirt is way too thin to be providing any protection against the cold.
As I walk towards the door, both Patrick and my dad turn to look at me. They don't say a word, and as I stand next to Patrick and raise to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, I am delighted at the realization that I have left him speechless.
It takes him a few seconds to regain composure, and then he blinks a couple of times, before saying:
"Wow! Just, wow, Lyds!"
My father looks at me as if he is seeing someone else.
"You look like your mother." He says, and I am not sure if he means it in a good way or a bad way.
Celia appears from the living room, wearing track pants and a black T-shirt, and stops in her tracks, gawking at me. I can see the malice in her eyes, as her gaze travels from the diamonds dangling from my ears to the delicate shirt, down to the YSL skirt, and finally stops at the silver Choos. I know she is turning green with envy right now, and I take a minute to bask in the delight of it.
"Let's go, babe!" I grab Patrick by the hand and drag him out. "Don't wait for us!" I yell over my shoulder and we are off.
Once out on the street, I press my body against Patrick's, grab him by the collar of his white button-down shirt, and kiss him, hard. He freezes, startled by my PDA, and doesn't move for a beat, but then pulls me closer and kisses me back. His hand travels to the back of my head, gently pressing my face to his. He breaks the kiss and pulls away, looking into my eyes, smiling. He then takes my hand and kisses it gently, before leading me to his car, parked on the street.
We ride to the restaurant in silence, and, thankfully, Patrick doesn't pick up on any of our pressing topics for discussion. I can tell that he is exhausted and just wants to relax and have a good time tonight.
The restaurant is a very nice Italian place and our food looks amazing. But then, of course, I can't eat, as I have a hot, thick lump of guilt stuck in my throat, threatening to choke me every time I try to put anything in my mouth. I pick at my pasta, barely touching it.
We talk about Patrick's past exam, how much time we have before our next exams, which are Bio for me and Physics for him, and how we've planned our revision schedules out.
About his mum and dad's plans about going to France to prepare the boat for the sailing trip...
He notices my discomfort at the mention of the sailing trip and gracefully changes the subject.
I move my food around the plate with my fork a little more, until I finally give up. I put my fork down and lean back in my chair.
I order another glass of wine and down it way too quickly.
"Are you okay?" Patrick looks at me when I put my empty glass down next to my almost-full plate.
"Yeah, I am fine" I sigh and put my hands in my lap.
"You have barely touched your food. Is there anything wrong with it? Do you want to order something else?"
"No, it's fine. It's great, really, I just... I'm not that hungry."
"Okay... do you want any dessert? The tiramisu here is amazing..."
"No, really, maybe just another glass of wine..."
YOU ARE READING
Never Summer Again
Romance"What are you left with, if you give up everything you think you know, for love?" LYDIA YOUNG hates her life. She's rich, beautiful, and popular, and dates a future lord, but her only wish is to get as far away from it all as possible. And she would...
