Wish You Weren't Here (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter Fourteen

I've always been someone who likes to stay completely in control. Of my feelings. Of my behaviour. Of the things I say. Even my thoughts.

(As a lifelong chronic overthinker, that last part is particularly difficult.)

I guess when you keep such a tight rein on everything you hold inside, the emotions start to build up. Like a pressure cooker or a . . . volcano! Thoughts and feelings start to shift like tectonic plates, and metaphorical lava eventually starts to spew.

And, in my case, that lava has taken the form of those seven mortifying words that have escaped from my mouth.

"I'm thinking that we should have sex."

The humiliation is almost instantaneous. Mount Ruby has finally erupted, but don't you worry, the villagers below are okay. She's only destroying herself here.

Lewis' face is an absolute picture right now: that's the only comfort I will get from this when I replay this scene later in my head. I've finally managed it, folks - I've taken the wind right out of his sails!

He takes a step backwards, his hand dropping from my shoulder abruptly. He simply stares at me for several moments, his forehead creasing. "What the hell, Ruby?" he asks eventually.

I don't know! I still can't believe I just said that. But, for the briefest of times, my libido outweighed any common sense, and the balance tipped overwhelmingly in favour of sex. It's only now righting itself, and my common sense is hurling burning volcanic ash at my brain in angry retaliation.

"Forget it," I mutter, knowing my cheeks are bound to be crimson by now. "I'm not sure why I even suggested it."

He ruffles his hair up with a groan, eyes focusing on me hard as if I'm a target he's trying to strike. "Okay, so you've just thrown this . . . proposition out there, and now you're taking it back immediately?" He asks. I can't work out the tone colouring his voice. Exasperation? Bitterness? He's definitely annoyed, though, that's for sure! "I really don't understand you, Ruby! An hour ago, you launched yourself into the fucking sea so you didn't have to talk about our kiss and now . . . You're telling me that we should have sex?" He turns away. "Except you've already bloody changed your mind," he adds, that last sentence a low mutter.

"I'm sorry," I mumble under my breath. The second time I've apologised to him today. I search for an explanation - hard to do when I'm not certain myself. "I thought it might . . . Ease the tension."

"What does that even mean?" He swings back towards me, eyes blazing with some unidentifiable emotion. The frustration from earlier has returned, evident in every movement of his body, in the crisp bite of each word he utters. I've never witnessed him so wound up, and despite myself, I'm finding it . . . incredibly attractive.

Do I have some sort of naughty schoolgirl role play kink I wasn't previously aware of? Hmm. This is probably not the time to pull on that thread.

I take a deep breath, trying in vain to calm myself down. "You know exactly what I mean," I counter. "Remember your 'hate sex' comment on the plane? You're the one who said we should just do it and clear the tension."

"I told you that was a joke!" he snaps, his hot gaze shooting sparks at me. "And you denied there was any sexual tension between us anyway."

"Come on, we both know there was some element of truth to it." Normal service has resumed, and I'm now determined to win this debate. Even if it means I have to admit to the fact that I'm physically attracted to him. "I just thought - very briefly, I might add - that you may have been right after all, and it might diffuse this weird vibe we've always had between us." I struggle to think of a way to explain it further. "Like when it's really muggy outside and a thunderstorm will break that shit right up?"