Page 22 of Oleander

I cleared my throat. “Let me put some music on.” I went to the laptop, connected to my Bluetooth speaker, and selected a Taylor Swift playlist from YouTube, who I knew both Ellie and Georgia loved. I didn’t think she’d like what I’d been listening to lately, which had been a lot of instrumental piano.

Which I’d found to be great for studying and writing.

“Ah, this is your new laptop,” Ellie said, sitting up. She came from the bed to where I sat at my desk and studied it. She was close, the clean floral scent of her hair brushing my cheek as she leaned in. “You got it then. Niiiiice. How is it?”

“Fast. So much faster than the old one.”

“No clicking on dodgy links now; that’s how you ruin it. And no porn.” She gave me a knowing smile.

I laughed and turned the volume up a little. When I turned to stand, her head was close, her lips glittering pink. She smelled of strawberry ice cream and I felt a faint stirring between my legs.

It was a relief, honestly.

It meant I was normal. That I still fancied her. I’d fancied her the night on the beach and I still fancied her now.

It didn’t matter that I’d scrolled Caspien’s Instagram last night and had a wank in the shower after. It didn’t mean anything if I was still turned on by Ellie Walsh.

The door was open slightly, but a creaky stair outside alerted the whole cottage that someone was coming up them, so I wasn’t worried.

I took a deep breath and leaned in, and kissed her.

No tongue at first, but then she slid her own between my lips, and I pushed mine against it. Her hand pressed down against my thigh, far from my cock but close enough for it to suggest something else. It took no time at all for me to be hard. Ellie’s mouth was hot and wet and tasted lovely. She was lovely.

So bloody lovely.

Before she left that night, she asked if I wanted to go out with her.

I said yes because there was no single reason on earth not to. Before she was home, she updated her Facebook status to ‘in a relationship’.

I went to bed and checked Caspien’s profile to see if there had been any new posts.

There hadn’t been. I had no idea where he was. Perhaps he had returned to Switzerland after all? Maybe he’d had a fall on his horse? I didn’t particularly care. It was unsettling, was all. Ihated not knowing when he’d appear, sniping or hissing like a snake in the grass.

Since I had his notifications turned on, I got an alert while I read an article about the new Arctic Monkeys album.

It was a photo looking out across the estate from what I assumed was his bedroom window. Not in Switzerland, then.

Tonight, the moon was high, full, and bright, so the picture was well-lit. The grass was rich green velvet, and the shining surface of the lake was like liquid silver.

And in the fainter distance was the bright orange glow from a window of a small, thatched cottage.

A window I knew well. My bedroom window.

Six

Alfie texted me first thing on Saturday morning:

Alf:

You and Ellie? Amazing mate, well done.

I wasn’t sure it was amazing. I hadn’t done anything. She’d asked a yes or no question I had no real reason to say no to.

Me:

Cheers. You have to ask Georgia out now.

He sent back the sweating emoji and I sent back an eyeroll. He really did need to ask Georgia. We were sick and tired of listening to him whine about it. And it was only a matter of time before someone else asked Georgia out. Most likely Jason Forrest. He’d been sniffing around her since the school play.