Read Online The Booby Trap and Other Bits and Boobs by Dawn O'Porter - Free Book Online
Authors: Dawn O'Porter
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thing.
House party.
Sean had persuaded Kev Simmons to push out all the stops, and had managed to acquire four crates of cheap French lager. Matthew Hetherington was going to DJ, having allegedly learnt how to do so in Ibiza the previous summer, and pretty much the entire year was invited, even Ben. He was more relieved than he would ever have admitted to anyone; he had been deeply unsure whether he would make the cut. And as the day approached, the gloom that had settled over him during the winter months was lifted even further by a message, this time delivered to him personally by Bonnie Dean, that Grace Matthews was looking forward to seeing him at the party. Why this would be so was unclear to him, such had been his recent status as a social pariah, but he didnât question it; he merely added it to the ever-growing pile of evidence that reinforced his conviction that girls were simply impossible to understand.
When Good Friday finally arrived, Ben paired his best YSL shirt with black jeans and Reebok classics, applied a liberal amount of gel to his hair, and headed off to what he hoped would be a date with destiny, the completion of a quest that had threatened to take over his life, to drag him ever further downwards.
This is it
, he thought, as he walked the short distance to Seanâs house.
This is the night everything changes.
Two hours later, he was standing exactly where he always ended up at parties: with Sean and Kev in the kitchen, sipping lager he wasnât enjoying and screaming silently at himself to go and talk to someone, to talk to a girl, any girl.
You play for the football team. You get good marks. Youâre not that bad looking. Stop being so completely PATHETIC.
âThis party,â announced Kev, âis really, really shit.â
âPiss off,â said Sean. âItâs not got going yet, thatâs all.â
âOh, itâs going,â said Kev, gesturing out towards the living room, which was full of boys and girls from their year and the one above dancing and laughing as Matthew poured tune after tune out of a pair of turntables he had brought with him. This had been greeted with open astonishment by his friends, who had assumed Matthew had been lying about being able to mix. âWeâre just not on board.â
Sean had no response, as what Kev was saying was demonstrably, painfully true. Instead, he opened another can of lager and took a long swig, trying not to grimace at the taste. Ben watched him, already weighing up which line he was going to use when he told his friends he was leaving; the party was already on the verge of becoming unbearable, and he had no appetite for masochism. Then Kev elbowed him hard in the ribs.
âWhat the hell?â he asked, glaring at his friend, who merely widened his eyes, as though he was trying to alert Ben to something.
A light cough sounded from behind him, and Ben turned towards the source of it. Grace Matthews was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a bottle of wine in her hand and smiling at him.
âSo,â she said. âThis is where all the cool people are.â
Sean and Kev erupted in fake laughter, but Ben didnât join in; he was looking at Grace. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing a blue top with white edging and a denim skirt that stopped halfway up her long, pale thighs. Her breasts were gentle swells beneath the blue material of her top, but it hadnât even occurred to him to look at them; he was wondering why he had never noticed how pretty she was, how stop-the-clocks, pause-the-CD beautiful.
Focus!
screamed the part of his brain in which the quest, and everything it had come to mean, resided.
This is your chance! You can be done with this tonight! You can finally be free!
But Ben couldnât focus; he stared at Grace Matthews without a thought in his head, and when she skipped lightly across the kitchen, took his hand and
House party.
Sean had persuaded Kev Simmons to push out all the stops, and had managed to acquire four crates of cheap French lager. Matthew Hetherington was going to DJ, having allegedly learnt how to do so in Ibiza the previous summer, and pretty much the entire year was invited, even Ben. He was more relieved than he would ever have admitted to anyone; he had been deeply unsure whether he would make the cut. And as the day approached, the gloom that had settled over him during the winter months was lifted even further by a message, this time delivered to him personally by Bonnie Dean, that Grace Matthews was looking forward to seeing him at the party. Why this would be so was unclear to him, such had been his recent status as a social pariah, but he didnât question it; he merely added it to the ever-growing pile of evidence that reinforced his conviction that girls were simply impossible to understand.
When Good Friday finally arrived, Ben paired his best YSL shirt with black jeans and Reebok classics, applied a liberal amount of gel to his hair, and headed off to what he hoped would be a date with destiny, the completion of a quest that had threatened to take over his life, to drag him ever further downwards.
This is it
, he thought, as he walked the short distance to Seanâs house.
This is the night everything changes.
Two hours later, he was standing exactly where he always ended up at parties: with Sean and Kev in the kitchen, sipping lager he wasnât enjoying and screaming silently at himself to go and talk to someone, to talk to a girl, any girl.
You play for the football team. You get good marks. Youâre not that bad looking. Stop being so completely PATHETIC.
âThis party,â announced Kev, âis really, really shit.â
âPiss off,â said Sean. âItâs not got going yet, thatâs all.â
âOh, itâs going,â said Kev, gesturing out towards the living room, which was full of boys and girls from their year and the one above dancing and laughing as Matthew poured tune after tune out of a pair of turntables he had brought with him. This had been greeted with open astonishment by his friends, who had assumed Matthew had been lying about being able to mix. âWeâre just not on board.â
Sean had no response, as what Kev was saying was demonstrably, painfully true. Instead, he opened another can of lager and took a long swig, trying not to grimace at the taste. Ben watched him, already weighing up which line he was going to use when he told his friends he was leaving; the party was already on the verge of becoming unbearable, and he had no appetite for masochism. Then Kev elbowed him hard in the ribs.
âWhat the hell?â he asked, glaring at his friend, who merely widened his eyes, as though he was trying to alert Ben to something.
A light cough sounded from behind him, and Ben turned towards the source of it. Grace Matthews was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a bottle of wine in her hand and smiling at him.
âSo,â she said. âThis is where all the cool people are.â
Sean and Kev erupted in fake laughter, but Ben didnât join in; he was looking at Grace. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing a blue top with white edging and a denim skirt that stopped halfway up her long, pale thighs. Her breasts were gentle swells beneath the blue material of her top, but it hadnât even occurred to him to look at them; he was wondering why he had never noticed how pretty she was, how stop-the-clocks, pause-the-CD beautiful.
Focus!
screamed the part of his brain in which the quest, and everything it had come to mean, resided.
This is your chance! You can be done with this tonight! You can finally be free!
But Ben couldnât focus; he stared at Grace Matthews without a thought in his head, and when she skipped lightly across the kitchen, took his hand and
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