The Chocolate Run by Dorothy Koomson Read Free Book Online Page B

Except, the only thing stupid that came to mind involved me, Greg and my bed. ‘Let’s get some champagne,’ I piped up. ‘Celebrate Jen, the youngest of our quartet, becoming a semi-pensioner too, and this new stage of your relationship.’
    Jen grinned; Matt paled. Tight. Not only was he toffee, he was tight toffee. He never knowingly reached into his pocket first. This was most clearly shown in his birthday present to Jen. What’s the cheapest present you could give your partner? Move in with them. That way, you actually get a refund on that pressie when all your bills are halved. But I didn’t think that, all right?
    ‘Greg and I will pay for it, won’t we?’ I added.
    ‘Yeah, course,’ he said quickly. ‘Course we will.’ Greg cast me an expression of pure gratitude. He’d obviously pay anything to erase his reaction to their news.
    One meal, one bottle of champagne, several bottles of Tiger beer later, we paid the bill, and got ready to leave.
    For the first time since Matt and Jen had got together that meal with the four of us had been tense. The whole evening had been fraught and tense. Me and Greg. Greg and Jen and Matt. Only Matt and I had no new issue with each other, although he would if he knew Jen had confided their news to me before he’d told Greg.
    Despite the champagne, despite all of us dragging out our funniest stories, which made us all cringingly keen to laugh loudly and brightly, just to prove we were having Fun (with a capital F), Jen’s thirtieth birthday wasn’t perfect. All the way through dinner Matt and Greg communicated silently across the table, having some kind of visual row. Jen didn’t seem to notice. She was odd like that: things that were obvious to most people passed her by. I thought she would’ve guessed about me and Greg but she didn’t even bat an eyelid.
    Matt and Jen’s cab arrived first and they left. Once we watched them leave, Greg lowered his head and banged it against the table.
    ‘Stupid,’ bang , ‘stupid,’ bang , ‘stupid,’ bang .
    ‘It wasn’t that bad,’ I said sympathetically.
    Greg stopped banging his head, scowled at me.
    ‘ All right, it was that bad. It was horrendous, actually.’
    ‘I can’t believe I reacted like that,’ he said, pushing his hair off his face.
    ‘It was the shock factor, we all react differently to shock.’
    ‘It’s just . . . If I could . . .’ He seemed momentarily bereft, as though he’d lost something very important. ‘Oh, never mind. Let’s go wait outside for our taxi.’ Greg faced me full on. ‘We can talk then, if you still want to.’
    Act casual , I thought as I shrugged. ‘OK, I’m easy. At least that’s what it says in the men’s loos.’
    The sharp night air hit me like a slap in the kisser. The temperature had dropped since we’d been inside. I tugged my coat around myself, wrapped my arms over it to keep warm . . . and to stop myself throwing Greg over the nearest car and mounting him. Whoa! Guess who shouldn’t have had that last Tiger beer?
    ‘What did you want to talk about?’ I asked casually, watching him from under the strands of my fringe.
    ‘What do you think?’ Greg replied. Don’t you get it? his face added silently.
    I said nothing, just stared at him. He stepped closer, put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It was a different kiss from the first time on Friday. Passionate, ardent, exciting. Now familiar, too. My internal organs deliquesced with every kiss.
    ‘I’ve wanted to do that all night,’ he exhaled, resting his forehead on my forehead.
    ‘Except when you were freaking out over Matt and Jen.’
    ‘No, you’ll find I wanted to do it then, it just got a bit marginalised. When you walked in wearing that dress . . .’ Greg kissed me again. He slipped his hand inside my coat and around my waist, pressed my body to his as his kisses became harder, more urgent. He ran his fingers through my hair and lip-kissed my mouth. Then he was