Read Online Remix (2010) by Lexi Revellian - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lexi Revellian
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cheap. Or Age Concern.”
Ric recoiled as though I’d suggested he wear drag. “I’m not going out looking crap.”
“What about when we first met?”
“Nothing wrong with those clothes, except I’d been wearing them for three years. On second thoughts, let’s get a bottle and a film and stay in. Unless you have plans? Have you got a boyfriend, by the way?”
“Not just at present,” I said with dignity. “I did have. We parted by mutual agreement.”
Later that day we drove to Waitrose up the Holloway Road. Ric didn’t hang about. I trotted after him while he sped round collecting duck a l’orange, potato dauphinoise, green vegetable medley, Haagen-Dazs strawberry cheesecake ice cream, a bottle of Bollinger and, as an afterthought, a steak for Dog. He stopped at the DVDs.
“What d’you want to get?”
I scanned the racks. Not a huge choice. I picked up The Other Boleyn Girl .
“What about this?”
“History as chick flick.” He held up Blade . “This is good.”
“I think not. My Best Friend’s Wedding ? I missed seeing it.”
“You can go on missing it. Unforgiven ? Awesome film.”
“Yes, but kind of depressing…”
In the end we went for a classic; Casablanca . I couldn’t believe Ric hadn’t seen it. I went through a big Humphrey Bogart phase in my teens. I can’t say Ric was keen, in fact he had a definite lack of enthusiasm, but I told him he’d love it, it was on everyone’s top ten films list.
At the checkout everything we’d got, a small basketful, one meal for two, came to PS73.58. I winced as Ric got the notes out and paid.
“That’s twice what I spend in a week on food.”
“Ah, but then you’re not a multi-millionaire,” he said softly into my ear, so the girl didn’t hear.
“Right now neither are you,” I muttered.
The meal was delicious. It made a pleasant change from the baked potatoes, sardines, spaghetti, and beans on toast that were my normal fare. We ate it in front of the television, watching Casablanca . When we’d finished everything except the champagne, we pushed the plates to one side on the floor, and slumped, replete, on the sofa. Dog lay at the other end, on his back, paws in the air, asleep.
Ric put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him, in a companiable way, not making anything of it, while we watched. If I’m honest, I have to say I enjoyed the feel of his arm and gently-moving muscular ribcage. My boyfriend and I had split up a few months before; no great loss, but I missed the warm sensation of someone else’s body next to mine more than anything else. James and I don’t have the sort of friendship where we can hug each other, or casually lean against each other, without it meaning something. I don’t know why, but if our hands brush we both apologize. Funny.
The film came to its satisfying conclusion; Ingrid Bergman followed her duty rather than her heart, while Bogart and Claude Rains walked off to win the war: “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“What d’you reckon?”
“Cool.” Ric turned and kissed me lightly on the lips as the credits rolled, drew back and looked at my face.
“Not a good idea, Ric…” I can’t say I didn’t like it, because I did. I liked the texture and smell of his skin, his eyes intent on mine, his strength; and there was a sense of danger about him, that I found both disturbing and exciting. It just didn’t feel right . Well, it felt right, all right, but not right . Am I making myself clear?
He kissed me again, putting a bit more into it. “Why not? I think it’s a good idea,” he murmured. “One of the best ideas I’ve had for weeks…”
I had to get a grip. Fast… “I’m your sidekick. Sherlock Holmes didn’t screw Dr Watson.”
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure about Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder…” Ric’s hand slid under my top and stroked my back. Aah…
But it wouldn’t do; too much of Ric was still white on the map, even
Ric recoiled as though I’d suggested he wear drag. “I’m not going out looking crap.”
“What about when we first met?”
“Nothing wrong with those clothes, except I’d been wearing them for three years. On second thoughts, let’s get a bottle and a film and stay in. Unless you have plans? Have you got a boyfriend, by the way?”
“Not just at present,” I said with dignity. “I did have. We parted by mutual agreement.”
Later that day we drove to Waitrose up the Holloway Road. Ric didn’t hang about. I trotted after him while he sped round collecting duck a l’orange, potato dauphinoise, green vegetable medley, Haagen-Dazs strawberry cheesecake ice cream, a bottle of Bollinger and, as an afterthought, a steak for Dog. He stopped at the DVDs.
“What d’you want to get?”
I scanned the racks. Not a huge choice. I picked up The Other Boleyn Girl .
“What about this?”
“History as chick flick.” He held up Blade . “This is good.”
“I think not. My Best Friend’s Wedding ? I missed seeing it.”
“You can go on missing it. Unforgiven ? Awesome film.”
“Yes, but kind of depressing…”
In the end we went for a classic; Casablanca . I couldn’t believe Ric hadn’t seen it. I went through a big Humphrey Bogart phase in my teens. I can’t say Ric was keen, in fact he had a definite lack of enthusiasm, but I told him he’d love it, it was on everyone’s top ten films list.
At the checkout everything we’d got, a small basketful, one meal for two, came to PS73.58. I winced as Ric got the notes out and paid.
“That’s twice what I spend in a week on food.”
“Ah, but then you’re not a multi-millionaire,” he said softly into my ear, so the girl didn’t hear.
“Right now neither are you,” I muttered.
The meal was delicious. It made a pleasant change from the baked potatoes, sardines, spaghetti, and beans on toast that were my normal fare. We ate it in front of the television, watching Casablanca . When we’d finished everything except the champagne, we pushed the plates to one side on the floor, and slumped, replete, on the sofa. Dog lay at the other end, on his back, paws in the air, asleep.
Ric put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him, in a companiable way, not making anything of it, while we watched. If I’m honest, I have to say I enjoyed the feel of his arm and gently-moving muscular ribcage. My boyfriend and I had split up a few months before; no great loss, but I missed the warm sensation of someone else’s body next to mine more than anything else. James and I don’t have the sort of friendship where we can hug each other, or casually lean against each other, without it meaning something. I don’t know why, but if our hands brush we both apologize. Funny.
The film came to its satisfying conclusion; Ingrid Bergman followed her duty rather than her heart, while Bogart and Claude Rains walked off to win the war: “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“What d’you reckon?”
“Cool.” Ric turned and kissed me lightly on the lips as the credits rolled, drew back and looked at my face.
“Not a good idea, Ric…” I can’t say I didn’t like it, because I did. I liked the texture and smell of his skin, his eyes intent on mine, his strength; and there was a sense of danger about him, that I found both disturbing and exciting. It just didn’t feel right . Well, it felt right, all right, but not right . Am I making myself clear?
He kissed me again, putting a bit more into it. “Why not? I think it’s a good idea,” he murmured. “One of the best ideas I’ve had for weeks…”
I had to get a grip. Fast… “I’m your sidekick. Sherlock Holmes didn’t screw Dr Watson.”
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure about Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder…” Ric’s hand slid under my top and stroked my back. Aah…
But it wouldn’t do; too much of Ric was still white on the map, even
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