Page 28 of The Retreat

Imogen was pressed up against Talia, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Their arms were touching fully, all the way down, and their heads leaned together like it was the most natural thing in the world. No one commented. Why would they? They were girlfriends at a retreat, sitting close by the fire.

Talia didn’t say anything. Just that little exhale of breath when she’d leaned in, the smallest shift in weight as she pressed a fraction closer. Imogen had let herself lean too. Not much. Just enough to feel it. Just enough to let it feel... nice. The kind of nice that had no place in something fake.

Imogen stared into the flames, trying not to think too hard about it. But she could feel it. The rightness of it.

Then someone yawned. Someone else stretched and said, ‘Alright, I think that’s us.’

The moment fractured.

Talia moved first, pulling back slightly as she shifted to stand. The loss of contact was immediate and sharp. Cold air rushed in where warmth had been. Imogen jumped up to follow Talia and everyone else back inside.

***

Back in the room, everything felt too quiet.

Imogen’s mind was still by the fire as she brushed her teeth. Still pressed up against Talia. Still caught in the feeling of it. Of her.

Should I say something now? she wondered. Does she feel it too? Or am I losing my entire mind?

A whole day of this back and forth, pull and push… Imogen didn’t know what to think. Did Talia hate her or want her? Or feel nothing for her at all?

Imogen rinsed her mouth, dried her face on the towel by the sink, and got into her PJs. She walked out into the bedroom, Talia slipping past into the bathroom without looking at her.

Imogen glanced down at Talia’s sleeping setup. She wondered if they didn’t have to talk about it. Maybe it would be easier than Imogen imagined. ‘Hey, you don’t need to sleep on the floor,’ she could say. And then…

Imogen pulled back the duvet and climbed under it, knowing she’d never be so bold. But she couldn’t let go of the thought or the memory of the way Talia’s head had rested against hers. It hadn’t felt performative. It had felt like Talia was where she was.

She lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the duvet.

Talia came in from the bathroom in immaculate silk pyjamas and settled herself on the floor.

‘Goodnight,’ Imogen said.

There was a silence. Imogen wondered if Talia was just going to go to sleep without any kind of normal response to the word, ‘Goodnight,’ which was generally just a repeated, ‘Goodnight.’

But then she cleared her throat.

‘I just… I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,’ Talia said, her words measured. ‘About earlier.’

Imogen felt her heart rate pick up.

‘About the physical stuff?’ Imogen asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

Talia took a deep breath that Imogen was sure was unconscious. ‘Yeah. I just... I need to know that you’re OK with it. I mean, if we have to…’

Imogen’s stomach twisted. There it was. ‘We don’t have to,’ she said, trying to let Talia know that tonight had been a choice for her.

But Talia looked up at her from the floor, brows knitting together in confusion. ‘It’s what people will expect. And for ten grand…’

Imogen’s jaw clenched. Ten grand. The words felt like an ice-cold splash in her face.

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, her voice low and tight. She leaned up on her elbows to make sure Talia got a good look at her clenched jaw as she said, ‘You want your money’s worth.’

Talia blinked, and her lips parted. ‘That’s not—’

Imogen shook her head. ‘It wasn’t in the terms of the agreement, though, right?’ she said, her words cutting through the tension. ‘We never said anything about touching.’

Talia blinked. ‘No, I know. I’m sorry if it’s weird.’

‘It wasn’t weird.’ The words slipped out before she could stop them. Imogen paused, surprised by her own honesty. ‘But we didn’t discuss it.’

Talia sat up and faced her, nodding. ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to do something you weren’t OK with.’

Imogen swallowed, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. ‘I’m OK. I mean, I was. Before.’

They both stewed in the awkward silence that followed, neither knowing exactly how to proceed. Imogen’s mind was still spinning, but there was something else beneath the frustration.

Deep disappointment.

This was exactly what she’d been told it was. And she didn’t have much cause to question it. Talia was simply a good actor.

All Imogen was getting from this weekend was money. And that was fine. What more could she expect?