Nobody Has to Know

How I managed to remember what bus to get to Austin's house I'll never know. Somehow the number stuck in my head, and now I'm nearly back at his place, back where I swore I'd never go. The bus is practically empty, but I guess no one wants to travel to the middle of nowhere. His house is in this massive rural place, the only house for miles unless you count a few barns on the way.

The house is a five minute walk from the bus stop, which is located just outside some old safari park which I doubt is even in use. And if it is, I'm betting no one knows where it is. I thank the bus driver and hop off, trying to remember which direction I have to take to get to Austin's house.

As I walk, a doubtful feeling creeps up on me and I wonder if this is really a good idea. Did I really need to come to his house to tell him to stay away from me? Couldn't I just have said it back at work? Then I could've spent the morning with Ryan, instead of catching an early bus to East Jesus Nowhere. What compelled me to come back here?

I look back to the bus stop, a small shape in the growing distance, and wonder if I should go back. I could go to Kayleigh's house. I know she'll be awake already, trying to look perfect for her new boyfriend and his mates. Even though she doesn't have to try.

I push forward, convincing myself this has to be done this way. Work has to stay professional. He needs to know that.

When I reach Austin's house I keep looking ahead, up the road, realising Austin's house is roughly halfway between my parents' houses. I could keep walking, go to see my dad, but I know Ryan would be upset to have missed an opportunity to see my dad. They're really close, closer than I am with my dad. Sometimes I wonder whose side my father would take if Ryan and I ever fought.

Before I can back out, I jab the doorbell hard, keeping my finger pressed against it until a lock clicks and the door swings open. And there stands Austin, wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing else, his hair tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep. The sight of him shoots heat up the back of my neck, and for a moment I forget how to speak. The peace of sleep seems to have robbed him of his mischievous edge, and surprise compels his freckled features - clearly he forgot about our so-called 'date.'

"Um," he says lamely, and I'd have laughed if it was anyone but him.

"Is your girlfriend here?" I ask calmly. "Or can I come in?"

I catch a hint of surprise in his eyes, but with each waking second his edge seems to be returning to him. He offers me a tentative smirk and steps aside, but not enough so our bodies don't touch as I pass him.

I make for the kitchen, flicking the kettle on before he can even offer me a coffee. I'm determined to keep the upper hand, to not let him get to me. I have to stay in control.

"You missed me, then," he purrs, and I roll my eyes, keeping my back to him.

"Please," I snap.

"Why else would you be here?" he smirks, and suddenly he's behind me, with barely an inch between us.

His hands find their way up to my shoulders, squeezing them softly, and I freeze under his touch. His breath is hot and heavy on my neck, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me as his hands travel down my back, pausing at the waistband of my jeans. I whirl around and shove him away, glowering.

"Stay away from me!" I growl, poised to move away from him if he approaches again. "You need to stay away from me, okay?"

"Why?" he says, still grinning, his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.

"Why?" I repeat, as if he's stupid. "Because I have a boyfriend. And you have a girlfriend. And the very sight of you pisses me off. Do you need any other reasons?"

"I think so," he sighs, tapping his long fingers rhythmically on his arm. "I'm running out of reasons myself."

"Let me give you some," I snap, slamming a mug down on the counter and spilling sugar and coffee into it. "I don't want you near me. I don't want to leave my boyfriend, especially not for you. And we work together. It's unprofessional."

He rolls his eyes, amused, and I turn my back to him to finish making my coffee. I almost want him to try something, just so I can hit him again. But he doesn't; we stand in silence as I stir the granules in a Darth Vader mug. When I turn back to him, he's looking thoughtfully at me.

"What?" I snarl, cupping my hands around the mug because I'm literally always cold.

"I never asked you to leave your boyfriend."

For a moment I say nothing. His tone is almost... Serious. It's almost funny, like one of those stupid movies where two characters who barely know each other claim to be 'in love.' I feel like we're living the Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge where I'm Satine and he's Christian. Except in this version I don't fall for him. I regain my composure and narrow my eyes at him.

"And what about the other reasons?" I demand. "What about the fact that I cannot stand you?"

He shrugs again, moving past me - and, to my surprise, gently moving me aside without so much as an ass slap - to get to the kettle, settling with a storm trooper mug because, from the look he shoots me, I gather I've claimed his usual mug. Oh well.

"Something compelled you to spend the night with me," he says.

"Yes," I concur, "alcohol."

"You're going to blame what happened on alcohol?" he raises an eyebrow. "I didn't think you were that conceited."

He has me speechless again, and my instinct is to hit him, but he's not in the wrong here so I don't. Because it's true. Alcohol has never been my excuse for the stupid things I've done. Drunk or not, I'd have found trying to perform gymnastics in a train corridor with Ryan hilarious. Drunk or not, I can still make my own decisions.

I remember how it happened, all of it: I'd parted from Ryan to go to the bathroom and to get drinks, and Austin had appeared in the hallway between the toilets and the hall with drinks. He'd asked me if I was enjoying myself, I said yes. He handed me a drink and told me about the hammock above his pool. He asked if I wanted to see it. I'd blame him for spiking my drink, but I knew very well what he was feeding me before I even touched the cup.

The fact is he's right. Alcohol may've pushed me in the direction of the exit, but I wanted to go with him, somewhere deep down. But that doesn't mean I like him now. Why would I?

"I don't like you, Austin," I finally say in a small voice.

"Really?" he smirks. "Then why are you still wearing my shirt?"

I glance down at his shirt, sandwiched between my t shirt and one of Ryan's hoodies, and I think the term 'dressing like a slut' was totally just redefined in this moment. Shrugging off my hoodie, I glare at him as he raises his hands for me to stop undressing, which is really out of character for him.

"I wasn't asking for it back," he says with a crooked smile. "I look good on you."

Somehow I manage to deepen my frown, peeling his warm, soft and oh-so-nice-smelling shirt off my anatomy and shoving it at him before shrugging the hoodie back on.

"I don't want you on me," I tell him, crossing my arms self consciously. "I just put it on by mistake, okay?"

"Mmhm."

"Shut up."

"So now we've established you don't like me even slightly, shall we watch a film?"

"Wh - you - fuck - what - No."

His proposal gets me so flustered and irritated that I can barely string a sentence together. Does he not understand how human interactions function in the slightest? Does he not realise that I'd rather jump in front of a bus than be here right now? That this was literally just me setting him straight and leaving?

"Really? Because my bed is warm this time of day?"

"You're a pig," I snap, and his smirk widens.

"And you're cute when you're angry. So, Star Wars?"

"I'm going home."

"You haven't finished your coffee."

"I haven't started my coffee."

"Exactly."

Despite myself I feel the corners of my mouth twitch upwards the tiniest fraction. The next moment I'm scolding myself, turning away from him so I don't melt from the warmth in his eyes. I don't know when I started trembling, but I can't stop. I blame it on the loss of his shirt.

For a second I consider watching a movie with him, but it just makes me think of sitting in bed with Ryan, watching his stupid horror films. Could I possibly be friends with the person I secretly cheated on the love of my life with? I don't think so. It's way too risky. I can't even believe I'm considering it.

The voice in my head is Kayleigh's. It says, "You don't like him, remember? Think of all the things he's done to you."

With my back to him, I sip my coffee as fast as my scalding tongue will let me. My hands are shaking, either from the heat of the mug or the adrenaline pounding in my ears. Before I'm even halfway through my drink, Austin addresses me again.

"You have seen the Star Wars films, haven't you?"

I look at him, making sure he catches my eye roll because obviously everyone's seen at least one of the films.

"Not your thing?" he asks.

"If you're referring to yourself, I won't disagree," I say, opening his fridge just to put something between us.

"I wasn't. What's your favourite film?"

I glower and slam the fridge door shut. "The Colour Purple."

"Is that a romance?"

"No."

"What's it about?"

"Look it up," I tell him, pausing to finish my coffee. "Look, thanks for the coffee, but I'm meeting friends soon and, well, to be honest I was done here about five minutes ago. I'm not going to watch a film with you and I'm not interested in swapping interests. So I'll see you at work."

I shove past him, dumping the empty mug in the sink and leaving the kitchen. I can still feel his shoulder against mine as I make hastily for the front door, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt towards him. I can't help but think about our little moment in the staff toilets, when I showed a moment of weakness and he didn't run away. I feel guilty enough to pause by the door, glancing over my shoulder at him, and he's peering around the kitchen doorway, half a smile playing on his lips.

I try to tell myself the unsettled feeling in my stomach is guilt as my hand moves slowly away from the door handle. And the selfish part of me, summoned by the upwards tilt of Austin's mouth and the glint in his eyes, pushes thoughts of my long-term boyfriend aside to make way for the butterflies Austin's touch brings forth as he reaches for my clammy hand.

"So," he purrs smugly, his voice like the steady whir of an engine, "what's The Colour Purple about?"

I shrug, figuring it definitely won't be his type of film, and suggest we watch the first Star Wars film instead. Our fingers lace together and he leads me up the stairs, and I don't even look back.

♤ ♤ ♤

We end up watching the first two Star Wars movies, our bodies entwined on his bed, my head tucked under Austin's chin. But I find it increasingly difficult to focus on the screen, because I can hear his heartbeat and I can feel his tight stomach underneath his t shirt and his fingers are brushing my back. Every now and then I hear him whispering the dialogue before the character even says it, and it makes me smile.

Finally the credits for The Empire Strikes Back begin to roll, and I let my head tilt upwards to look at him. But I only get a glimpse of his magnificence before his lips descend on mine and I close my eyes and let him take control. He rolls over, his body inches over mine, and kisses me harder. My fingers snake their way into his soft hair while his creep under the hem of my t shirt, forcing a gasp to escape me.

Slowly, his hand explores under my shirt, moving up over my pounding heart and then back down, pausing where my belt locks me into my clothes. He pauses kissing me to glance down, gradually and deliberately undoing my belt, my breaths only shortening as I wait impatiently. When I finally feel my jeans free my waist, I pull him hungrily back down to me, reconnecting our lips. He chuckles softly as my grip on him tightens, his fingers toying with the waistband of my boxer briefs.

He moves slowly, teasing me, pushing my jeans further down my legs, making me want to scream with frustration. I can tell he's enjoying himself, taking full advantage of the power I've given him. He pulls away from me once more, working the narrow legs of my jeans away from my ankles before returning to me.

But just as our lips touch again, a sound makes us both freeze. Austin rolls off me, and I sit up, reaching for my jeans.

"Was that...?"

"The door," mutters Austin, running his fingers through his hair.

I yank my jeans on, my heart fit to burst out of my chest, as a heavy set of paws thunders up the stairs. A white Staffie bursts into the room, making straight for Austin, and if I wasn't so frustrated I'd have found it cute. A female voice floats up the stairs as the front door shuts, and I shoot Austin my fiercest glare.

"If I didn't already know about her," I hiss, my fingers fumbling to do my belt back up, "you'd be dead, you hear me?"

Austin just grins, leaning over to greet the excited dog, and seconds later the door is pushed open and a girl peers in. I recognise her from the Facebook photo: tall and slim, with a lot of frizzy blonde hair and a flawless face. Beneath a strappy vest, two tattooed bluebirds rest on her chest. I can't deny she's gorgeous, and guilt and jealousy wage war inside me at the sight of her.

Apparently he has a thing for blondes, I think bitterly.

She looks at me through long lashes and smiles, and thankfully by then my belt is secure once more, and I'm sitting almost too casually on the crumpled sheets.

"Did you two have, like, a lightsaber war in here or something?" she asks, amused.

"Or something," I mutter. Austin says nothing, just smirks his stupid smirk.

"Hey, I'm Bonnie," she says, and I nod back weakly.

"Alistair," I grumble, reaching for my jacket, "and I should be leaving."

I scramble off the bed and hurry past her, shrugging my jacket on as I leave the room. I begin to panic as I hurry down the stairs, because I'm so late for meeting Kayleigh and I'm such an awful person for doing this to Ryan and, erm, Bonnie. Nausea rises up in me as I burst out into the warm almost-afternoon.

I glance wildly around, trying to remember which side of the road to catch the bus from, when Austin appears behind me, closing the front door to give us some privacy.

"Sorry about that," he mutters, grinning, "I didn't realise the time."

"That was horrific," I hiss, crossing my arms self consciously. "What if she'd come in when we... When we were..."

"At it?" His grin widens, and I punch him hard in the shoulder.

"That can't happen again," I tell him, not for the first time but hopefully the last. "I came over to tell you we can't do this, and that, in there? That proved it."

"But," he breathes, leaning close so his lips are almost touching my ear, his breath warm on my skin, "I think we can agree that you don't actually hate me."

Slowly, I take a step back, every fibre of my being telling me to kiss him again, just one more time, but I don't. I just offer him a smile that's probably more like a grimace and take another step away from him.

I turn away from him, away from his house, and look once more at the road, wondering what the hell I'm going to say to Kayleigh. I check my watch. I should be at her house by now.

"Do you want a lift home?" Austin asks, sensing my confusion and panic.

"No, I'll get the bus."

"The bus takes hours."

I look at him, shrugging. "It smells gross, too."

He grins. "I'll get my keys."

♤ ♤ ♤

Half an hour later, after chatting and giving directions and realising that I don't actually hate him, that we actually have a lot in common, Austin stops the car outside Kay's house. I see the curtains in her window shift slightly, and I know she's watching. And suddenly I feel awkward again, fidgeting in my seat as I try to find a way to tell him bye.

"Hey," he says suddenly, and I glance at him, "do you want to go and see Man of Steel sometime? I'll pay."

I shrug, staring at my hands, which rest in my lap. "I..."

"Superman's your favourite superhero, right?" I nod weakly. "Okay, so we're going."

"Austin..."

"We can figure out times and dates at work, okay? Go, your friend's waiting for you."

The word 'dates' makes me wince. I don't think he meant for it to be a date, but I know it's all I'll be thinking about on the day. I let out a sigh, reach for my door handle, and then pause.

"We're friends," I tell him, "okay?"

He shrugs, still grinning, but it's a hollow smile. Somehow I can tell there's something wrong, but I don't question it. I don't want him to tell me he wants more, and I don't want him to tell me he's okay with that, because both would frustrate me. So instead I just climb out of the car and shut the door behind me, watching as Austin starts the car and drives away.