Twenty-one ~ Victim

"Alastair? What are you doing here?"

My muscles seemed to freeze, rendering me motionless. Why? Why today? Why now?

"Rosa, baby." He hurried across the room and took both my hands in his. "I feel so bad about Daisy, and it's made me think about what an awful boyfriend I've been in general, leaving you out here by yourself. I needed to see you. I need to make things up to you."

His words barely registered. He was here. Alastair. After eight weeks of only seeing him via Skype, all six foot two of him stood before me in the flesh, though hardly recognisable as my boyfriend who dressed impeccably with a perfected poker face.

Wearing a wrinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top buttons undone, Alastair carried an expression of apprehension that I'd never seen on him. His hands still clutched mine, thumbs rubbing over my knuckles, but the tremble reverberated through my static limbs. He was waiting for me to talk, his blue eyes flickering with worry as each tick of the bedroom clock emphasised the growing silence between us.

When my body caught up with my mind, I pulled my hands free and cleared my throat. I twisted to push my door shut, then advanced across the room to close my balcony doors, too. Once satisfied we had total privacy, I turned to Alastair and folded my arms. 

"You look good," he said, his gaze sweeping over my figure in a way that suggested appreciation rather than lust. 

"Why are you here? Don't bother bullshitting me, Alastair."

Hurt flickered across his face. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"You hooked up with Daisy again. Why would I be happy to see you?"

He flinched, then closed the distance between us before I could react. 

"Rosa," he said, his voice soft and his hands cupping my cheeks. "Please... I know I'm possibly the world's worst boyfriend, and I'll be the first to admit you deserve so much better... But I love you and I want—"

"You don't love me, Alastair." I yanked my head out of his grasp and took a step backwards. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have slept with her last time, never mind doing it again—knowing how it hurt me before. I mean, it's twice I'm aware of, but tell me the truth: how many times has it actually happened? And don't you dare lie."

Fearful eyes flitted around various features of my face, no doubt trying to read my thoughts. Business had always hung over our relationship, and even now Alastair was using his boardroom skills to determine which course of action to take in a risky scenario.

"Twice." He shifted his focus to the floor and wrapped his arms around his torso, shoulders hunched.

"Twice?" I straightened up, latching onto the unusual power shift between us. "You're sure?"

"Rosa, I promise you," he said, wide eyes meeting mine again. "I don't even know why I did it the second time. Selfishness, she was available, she was all over me... You've seen how she can be."

"You're such a victim," I said, not bothering to hide the bitterness from my voice. 

"No, I don't mean it like that," he replied in a hurry. "It wasn't like the first time when I did it because I was panicking about feeling trapped. I got caught up in the moment and it just happened. Afterwards, all I could think about was you and how much it was going to hurt you, how much it hurt you last time and what a dickhead I was for putting you through it again. I felt sick with myself. I still do."

I couldn't bear to focus on his sad face, but I kept my head high as I stared at my balcony doors instead. Although a great liar, I'd learnt over the years that Alastair always turned to honesty in the end. I was in no way giving him credit for admitting he'd screwed up a second time, but it was better than him keeping it a secret. Secrets came out eventually, especially in my circle of friends. 

"I know this means nothing, Rosa, but I swear it'll never happen again. It's not worth it."

"I'm glad cheating on me isn't worth it, Alastair." 

"No! I meant the reasons I did it... They weren't good enough reasons in the end. This is coming out wrong. I'm so sorry, Rosa. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and what you could potentially be doing with guys over here..."

"What I could be doing?" That drove me into looking at his smacked puppy face again. "I've never cheated on you. You've no reason not to trust me. I've every reason not to trust you, and you've proved that."

He hung his head, backing down once more, but I was far too angry to experience any sympathy towards him. 

"You know what happened this afternoon?" I asked. His head slowly rose to look at me. "That lifeguard kissed me. And you know what I did? Nothing. I had an opportunity to kiss him back, but I didn't. Out of respect for you."

"Rosa..."

"No, Alastair. I'm sick of this. I've tried to explain our relationship to my friends here, but nobody gets it. Nobody understands why I'd want to be with a guy who cheats on me. And if I'm willing to accept cheating, why I'm so against doing it myself."

Alastair perched on the edge of my bed, propping his elbows on his knees as he leaned forwards and buried his head in his hands. With whitening knuckles, his fingers clutched at his hair as he rocked back and forth. His calming method. I'd seen it so many times, yet never in the context of our relationship.

I'd said my piece, though. My heart thudded from my angry outbursts, and it seemed they'd had their intended effect on Alastair, too. I'd never seen him so out-of-control or vulnerable, so upset or desperate—so regretful. 

"Why did he kiss you?" he then asked.

Alastair knew perfectly well that getting jealous over Brent would be hypocritical. Maybe having sex would have given him a taste of his own medicine after all. At that moment, though, I was proud of my loyalty. Proud not to have cheated. Because, at that moment, trapped in my room with my shitty boyfriend, I was the bigger person. After three years of feeling small and insignificant, the power shift exhilarated me. 

"I don't know why he did it," I said. "It was spontaneous. We've been getting closer recently, but I've not pursued anything with him because I'm not a cheat."

Alastair nodded, accepting my cutting dig with no rebuttal. "Clearly those feelings of hatred towards you were masked sexual ones."

I lowered myself into the armchair, my body sinking into the soft fabric. 

"Do you like him?" His eyes met mine—hesitant, with a hint of sadness.

I shrugged with one shoulder. "Yeah. Not that it matters."

He sighed and covered his face with his hands again. Up to this point, my anger had concealed the surreal situation. but now it started to register: Alastair was here. When did I stop wanting this?

It should have been ideal. Away from the pressures of London, we could simply enjoy each other's company and concentrate on our relationship. After all, we needed to do that more than anything. 

"Rosa, I will do whatever it takes to make things up to you. If you want to take a break from our friends, we'll do that. If you want us to cut ties with Daisy, we'll do that. I need you, and only you."

I held the upper hand and relished the power it brought me. I therefore didn't want to admit that half my problem with Daisy would be the subtle taunts she'd make, constantly reminding me that she was the one who'd caused problems for Carringham's hottest couple. I didn't want to come across as weak or sensitive; I needed to be strong and unaffected. Just like Alastair.

But I wasn't sure I had the energy to try anymore.

~~~

"I must say, Alastair, it's wonderful you're here," Mum said across the dinner table, her delight evident in her bouncy voice. "Rosalie has been bored stiff recently."

"It's nice to be here." Alastair's charming smile betrayed nothing. "And it's great to be able to experience it all for myself after hearing Rosa talk about it such a lot."

Thai Green Curry had never looked so interesting as I stared into my bowl to avoid eye contact with both of them. It was absolutely no surprise to see Mum overjoyed at Alastair's arrival; he'd always been the perfect boyfriend in her eyes. 

"And it'll be lovely if you can celebrate her birthday here... And dare I even mention the upcoming wedding...?"

Alastair laughed, a melodic, soothing sound that echoed around the kitchen—his signature laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him glance at my bowed head. 

"We'll see," he said. "I've got to keep tabs on the company and make sure it's not run to the ground in my absence."

"Oh, of course," Mum said. "The invitation is there, anyway."

"I appreciate it."

Conversation died down, and it became strikingly obvious that I'd not said a lot. Mum looked over at me a few times before she finally opened her mouth to address my silence. 

"Everything all right, Rosalie? You're awfully quiet."

"I'm just tired." I'd prepared the excuse, anticipating the question. "With all the excitement of Alastair surprising me..."

Mum smiled. "Well, I'm sure Alastair is shattered from the journey. If you two want to go off to bed after dinner, that's fine."

It then dawned on me that we'd be expected to share a bed. If we didn't, Mum would guess something was wrong, and the last thing I needed was a talk about the importance of my relationship.

"I can sleep elsewhere," Alastair said when we got up to my bedroom. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder to gesture back towards the corridor. "We don't need to tell your mum."

I shook my head. "No, it's fine."

Clearly awkward, he averted his gaze and started to undo his shirt buttons. My mind spun as I debated whether I, too, should give him privacy. Whilst I didn't exactly want to stare at the body that Daisy's hands had touched all over, I couldn't help but steal a glance. Regardless of the anger and hurt, part of me couldn't ignore the attraction that still simmered between us.

I allowed my eyes to trail down his slim frame, the light dusting of hair that covered his chest and his flat stomach with the faint outline of abs. I was beginning to realise that my draw towards Alastair was more of a comforting, familiar one—different to the exciting, new one with Brent.

Turning my back on him, I shimmied out of my clothes and stepped into my pyjamas. It was odd having a boy in my bed again, and Alastair's presence felt both recognisable and strange. In a timid, cautious move, he dragged his arm across the soft duvet and draped his fingers over mine.

For a few moments, I didn't respond. But then the painful reminder hit me. It didn't matter if things had reached a level of awkwardness between Alastair and me. We had to get over it.

Maybe I'd been cocooned in such a bubble of denial out here, swept up in my feelings for Brent and Mia's ongoing drama with Austin, that I'd neglected to truly imagine what my relationship would be like when I returned to London. Or maybe it wasn't a case of not imagining it, but refusing to do so.

In the depths of the darkness, emotional and vulnerable, I let my fingers curl around Alastair's, pinching my eyes shut with shame as I recalled how much stronger the emotions had blazed when holding Brent's hand instead. 

"I love you, Rosa." The sleepy whisper hovered in the air between us, waiting to be met with a reply that failed to leave my mouth. 

Alastair may not be the most trustworthy guy in the world, but I needed to believe he was telling the truth. I had to trust him because if I didn't, I'd be making life even harder for myself.

Managing that life often resembled creeping across a frozen pond, each step threatening to cause more and more cracks, before I eventually fell through the ice and became totally submerged, overcome with fear.

~~~

When I woke the next morning, I was momentarily confused by the heavy arm draped over my waist. Then the events of the previous evening came flooding back, everything from Alastair's surprise arrival, to Brent's spontaneous kiss.

I let out a groan of despair, which stirred Alastair. In his half-conscious state, he withdrew his arm from my waist and lifted it to rub at his eyes.

Rolling over to face me, his eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a lazy smile. Just as he started to lean towards my mouth—in an almost instinctive manner—he froze, before clearing his throat and retreating.

"So, when's your flight back?" I asked Alastair to break the silence.

It was perhaps a poor choice of words, intended to be conversational but instead coming across as wanting him to leave. 

"I haven't booked one," he said. "Flying out here was such a spontaneous decision that I didn't have time to worry about return flights. Plus, I wasn't sure how you'd react to seeing me, so..."

"But you can't leave your company for long, right?" I frowned, rolling onto my side to face him. "I thought the whole reason you couldn't visit me was because of leaving it."

Alastair sighed and closed his hand around mine. I glanced down at it, the intimacy seeming misplaced. 

"Rosa, I can't explain how these past few days have tormented me. I screwed up, and that's one hundred percent my fault, but I knew I had to do something to make it right. My mind hasn't been on work, recently; all I've been thinking about is you."

"But your company... It's so important to you—"

"Some things are more important than work," he said, fingers sweeping over my knuckles. "You and I are in a relationship; we're a team. I haven't always taken that as seriously as I should have done, but I will from now on. I swear." 

His eyes seemed earnest, a pinch of desperation present again, begging me to believe him.

"Listen, this thing between you and the lifeguard," Alastair said. 

"Alastair—"

"No, it's fine. You say nothing's happened, but there's obviously something there, so how about I keep myself busy in town if you want to clear the air and tell him your shitty boyfriend has rocked up?"

My automatic reaction was to decline the offer, but when I thought about it more, I realised Alastair was right. Brent had kissed me, then told me to go and let things sink in. After the moment we'd shared, telling him about Alastair was the decent thing to do. I couldn't imagine it going down particularly well, but I'd gone through this whole thing being honest and I wasn't going to stop now.

~~~

Thank you for reading :) xx

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