Cheradine- Lost and found

Chapter 11

Nadine had prepared herself for the worst: denial, rejection, even anger.

Not for a second had she thought this attraction might be anything other than one-sided on her part.

This admission from Cheryl should be a life line but it leaves Nadine feeling even further adrift. Before she could rationalise her feelings away; now, there’s a very real possibility that this is more than a passing infatuation. If it isn’t just a crush, well, that has some pretty far-reaching consequences – not just for them, but for the band.

She becomes dimly aware of the forgotten cigarette in her hand, burned down almost to the filter, and quickly stubs it out on the railing.

Cheryl stares at her. “Well?”

Nadine’s at a loss. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fog in her brain, because now is not the time to lose her voice to the uncertainty that grips her.

“Fuckin’ hell. Will you just say somethin’, Nadz!”

Nadine looks away, her eyes searching the night sky for stars. There are few visible, the smog that blankets the city blocking out all but the brightest constellations.  She turns back to Cheryl, bites her lip. “Are you sure you really want to open this can of worms?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Cheryl responds, sounding as lost as Nadine feels. “A few weeks ago I was happily married woman. Now...” She shakes her head. “All I know is life’s short and you shouldn’t take anythin’ for granted.”

Nadine isn’t sure why she feels the need to dissuade Cheryl and sabotage herself – pragmatism or some well-meaning but misguided self-preservation instinct, maybe.  “But you’re leavin’ in a few days,” she states quietly. “I mean, it’s not the best timin’, is it? Between your work commitments and the media circus surroundin’ your marriage, the last thing you need is this addin’ to your worries.”

Cheryl steps closer, now firmly in Nadine’s personal space, dark eyes staring intently into her own. “Who says I’m worried?” Cheryl says with a wink but the bravado doesn’t fool either of them. “I suppose it all comes down to a simple question,” she continues, angling her head so that she and Nadine are practically breathing the same air. “Do you wanna be with us or not?”

She can feel the soft gust of Cheryl’s wine-sweetened breath on her lips and it takes everything Nadine has not to let her eyes flutter closed and give in to the urge to eliminate that tiny distance between them. Never in her life has she wanted to kiss someone so badly.

So what’s stoppin’ you, you idiot? An internal voiceberates her. It’s not every day Cheryl Cole offers herself up to you on a platter.

“Of course I bloody do,” Nadine mutters under her breath as she turns and presses the other woman up against the railing, her mouth seeking Cheryl’s in a kiss that leaves no doubt about what she wants.

Incapable of coherent thought – a single delirious thread of ohmygodohmygodohmygod spiralling in an endless loop in her brain – all Nadine can do is lose herself in sensation: the warm, wet brush of Cheryl’s lower lip, the intoxicating scent of perfume, silky soft strands of hair slipping between her fingers. A half-moan forms in her throat, only to be swallowed by Cheryl’s lips parting against her own as the Geordie quickly deepens the kiss.

Soon they’re full-on snogging in a way Nadine hasn’t since she was about fifteen; heated, messy, and with a bit too much tongue. It’s incredible. Cheryl’s hands are in her hair, that assured touch causing a bolt of giddiness to charge through her and all Nadine can do is press her hips more firmly, pinning the Geordie in place.

By the time they part for air, the entire lower half of Nadine’s body feels like molten liquid. The way Cheryl’s looking at her – huge, dark eyes eating her up - doesn’t really help her situation. When Nadine finds her voice, it sounds husky and strange to her own ears. “Shall we go inside before we scandalise my neighbours?”

**

From her position on the couch Cheryl follows Nadine’s progress across the room with an unblinking stare. (Nadine’s never quite understood the expression ‘undressing someone with your eyes’ but now she gets it completely.)

Never has such a short distance felt so far. It’s only a few steps but it feels like moving through molasses.

When she finally reaches the couch, Nadine plants a knee on either side of Cheryl’s thighs and settles herself onto the Geordie’s lap. A slow smile tugs at Cheryl’s mouth as her gaze wanders uninhibited.

There’s a part of Nadine - the part that’s resolutely a good Catholic girl and can’t help thinking Jesus, what will my mam say? - that’s embarrassed by just how forward she’s being but the look of open desire on Cheryl’s face is enough to quell it and, besides, Nadine wants this. Probably more than she’s wanted anything else.

Small hands come to rest on her hips, steadying her, and she leans forward, bracing her arms on the couch as she brings her mouth to Cheryl’s.

This kiss is slower, unhurried. They take their time with exploratory touches of lips and tongue, a cat and mouse game of tease and retreat. Even so, it isn’t long before Cheryl’s hands start moving restlessly, tracing up and down Nadine’s sides before finally slipping around to grab her bum.

The unexpected movement causes Nadine to break the kiss.

She favours the Geordie with a disapproving lift of her eyebrow but it’s difficult for Nadine to maintain the effect when she’s blushing furiously. “Watch those wanderin’ paws of yours,” she says in a mock-stern tone. “I’m not the kind of girl who puts out before the third date.”

An alarmed look flits across Cheryl’s face. “Babe, with you in LA and me in London, how’re we gonna fit in three dates before 2010?”

“Well, technically, I’ve taken you out to dinner twice already...”

“So you have,” Cheryl says, catching on and perking up instantly. Her eyes take on a speculative gleam. “So... are you doin’ anythin’ tomorrow?”

Nadine smothers a grin and pretends to ponder the question, tapping her chin. “Hmm, I don’t think I have anythin’ in my diary. What did you have in mind?”

The brunette leans up, pressing a soft kiss to Nadine’s mouth. “You. Me. Beach. Picnic,” Cheryl says, punctuating each word with a stolen kiss. “Bikinis are compulsory.”

Nadine briefly considers coming up with a witty response but, frankly, her mouth is otherwise engaged and she’s quite happy for it to remain that way.