Irresistible by Liz Bankes Read Free Book Online Page B

offered to come over, which was really lovely of her, but I wasn’t having any of it, as she’d been going on about the prom all year and getting to see Max in black tie (he still wore his hat, apparently). But just the idea of everyone being there freaked me out, even though I felt miserable sitting like a loner in my room when I knew everyone was on their way to the prom in a limo. Mom didn’t say anything about the dress. She put her pajamas on too, banished Jeff and Matthew from the front room, and we watched
The Notebook
and ate pizza.
    I walk back along the dark, echoey corridor toward the bar, thinking that I’ll tell Cleo I’m actually feeling pretty wiped out and will just get picked up now.
    But when I see her sitting up on a bar stool, she’s already poured me a glass of champagne.
    “Oh, actually you look all right,” she says, holding out a glass.
    “Um, thanks.” I clamber onto the bar stool in front of her, wishing I could develop a way of gliding elegantly around at all times. Or just having longer legs. Or a different body and personality.
    “We’ll head over to the pool house later if you like. Jay’s got some of his sad little friends there. It’s pretty fun watching them basically kiss his ass.”
    She clinks her glass on mine. “So who
are
you, Mia?” She’s looking right at me now. Like she really wants to know about my dull life.
    I start tentatively, saying “um” a lot, and tell her where I live and go to school. Is it possible to bore someone to death? I feel like I’m making a very good attempt.
    But Cleo seems interested. She pushes her hair back from her face, emphasizing her flawless skin, and smiles warmly at me while she tops up my glass. Her accent has a hint of something that I can’t place. I bet she’s traveled to all sorts of exotic places and has stories a hundred times more interesting than me informing her that I have a cat and a brother. I tell her about my traveling plan and how I’m going to try to get around my mom. I realize that I’m talking a lot.
    “What about you?” I ask, trying to even things up.
    “What about me? Dad’s a sultan; Mom’s a whore. Lived all over, but they’ve dumped me here for now.” She pauses as she finishes her glass. “A bit of stability so I don’t fuck up my exams and miss out on Oxbridge.” She pours another, and I notice there’s a second bottle waiting in an ice bucket behind her. I’m about to take a sip but put my glass back down. After two glasses I’m already feeling the effects, and if I carry on at this speed I’m going to be trashed.
    “So, how did you meet—”
    “Jamie? Some charity gala thing. While this fat old biddy was making a speech about wonderful Jamie raising lots of money for them by climbing a mountain or some shit, he appeared behind me, whispering how he wanted to do unspeakable things to me.”
    “Did he?” I say, not really sure what I’m asking.
    “Some of them.” She shrugs. “Most of them, actually. But never all the way.”
    “Really? You haven’t?”
    She shakes her head. “He won’t admit he loves me. That’s my demand. He can’t say it. He says he doesn’t care, that he’s not some slobbering teen desperate to get laid. But I know it drives him crazy when there’s something he can’t have. He’s had it easy all his life, and then I come along and I’m difficult.”
    “Do you want it to be difficult, though? I mean, shouldn’t a relationship be easy? Just hanging out and making each other laugh and stuff?”
    “And getting married, and having kids, and losing ten years while you’re covered in baby puke and putting on weight till you sit at brunch talking about little Oscar’s stupid entrance exam because that’s all you’ve got in your awful boring life? Difficult is fun. It means there’s passion. You almost hate them, but you’ve never wanted anything more.”
    I shift in my chair, and it feels like the champagne bubbles are going up and down my legs.