It’s hard not to stare at his red cheeks. Hard to forget how they used to feel as I traced my finger across them. Niall doesn’t show the slightest hint he remembers me, and I’m trying not to feel disappointed. This situation is embarrassing enough as it is. I don’t need to make it any worse.
“I got you another drink, darling.” Simon hands me a white wine. The glass is misted. Small droplets of water run onto my hand as I take it.
“Simon, this is Niall, the artist Elise has found. This is Simon, Elise’s father. He owns the gallery.”
The two men shake hands, and I can’t help compare them. Simon’s are pale and pinched. Grey hair curls over his cuffs. “Pleased to meet you. Elise says you’re going to do wonders at the clinic.”
An awkwardness descends. We make small talk. I fidget with my wine and glance around the room. Simon and Niall seem so much more comfortable, enough to strike up a conversation without me. It gives me the space I need to calm myself down. I remind myself I’m here as Simon’s wife. The old Beth is gone. I don’t need to be scared anymore. It’s as if my brain knows, but my body doesn’t, and for the first time in years I feel that familiar constriction in my chest.
Breathe. Just breathe.
There are too many people in the room. It’s as if they’re crowding toward me, crushing me. My heart is speeding so fast it’s almost painful.
“I need the bathroom.” I shove my glass into Simon’s free hand and almost run across the gallery floor, stumbling a couple of times when I barrel into a guest. Looking back, I see the two of them staring at me.
My husband and the man I used to know. The one who protects me, and the one who taught me what passion was.
He painted it across my body when I was a blank canvas.
Something long dormant sparks inside me as I remember how good it felt.
“Hey, Rain Girl!”
I whip my head around and nearly drop the books I’ve balanced precariously in my arms. The grass is teeming with students. The sun beats down. It’s warm enough for girls to be dressed in tiny shorts and skimpy tops. It seems half the boys have taken off their t-shirts, revealing pale skin that’s turning pinker by the second. I can’t see where the voice is coming from, so I shrug and carry on walking. My last lecture has just finished and I’m heading back toward the halls of residence. Clad in jeans and a long-sleeved top, I’m hot and completely overdressed.
“Over here.” Niall rounds his ‘r’s and for some reason it sounds insanely sexy. I glance to my left and spot him, sitting with a group of friends alongside the lake. He catches my eye and smiles, making my stomach clench.
I want to wave, but I’m holding too many books. Instead I kind of tip my head to the side and give him a toothy, lopsided smile. I silently kick myself for being so lame, because this is Niall Joseph we are talking about. God of Gods, King of Kings and he’s talking to me.
He’s still smiling. I begin to feel stupid, standing here goofily, so I raise my eyebrows in what I hope comes across as a nonchalant, see you around kind of expression, and start to walk away.
“Wait up.” He stands up and half-runs after me. He’s holding a spliff between his index and middle fingers. When he comes to a stop in front of me, he raises it to his lips. He exhales and the breeze wafts the smoke over my face.
“You want some?”
I shrug and look down at my arms. He follows my gaze and notices how full my hands are. Switching the spliff around in his fingers, he lifts the blunt end to my lips and I breathe it in. A moment later, I catch his eye and he’s still smiling at me and I don’t know if it’s him or the drugs that’s making me lightheaded. He sticks the spliff back in his mouth and then grabs my books, lifting them easily in his arms. Without even asking me if I want to join him, he walks back to his group.
Of course, I follow him.
Awkwardly, I sit down beside him. His friends are a who’s who of campus elite, either rich, talented or a mixture of both. It’s hard not to feel boring and prosaic in comparison.
Niall puts the spliff back up to my lips, even though my hands are free now. My cheeks heat up when I realise he’s still staring at me. He has this intensity that makes me want to shiver even though I’m boiling in my long sleeves and jeans.
“Does she have a name?” The boy sitting on the other side of Niall looks at me. Or I think he does; it’s hard to tell when he’s wearing Ray-Bans and a cap that cover his eyes.
“She’s called Rain Girl.” Niall’s voice is soft. His lips quirk into a smile and it feels as if it’s just for me.
“Weird name.” The guy screws up his nose. “And singularly inappropriate for this kind of weather. But I guess it suits you.” He reaches across Niall and shakes my hand. “I’m Digby.”
Digby?
“Hi.”
“I think I’ll call you after the Greek goddess of rain... who is... um....”
“There is no Greek goddess of rain, dickhead.” That comes from a girl lying down on her stomach, across the way from us. She has a deep, croaky voice and sounds as if she’s been on sixty a day all her life.
“Yes there is. It’s Iris.”