Falling

"You're absolutely welcome. So. On to other matters."

"What is it?"

"My sister's invited us to join her and her man and their rowdy bunch of mates at a pub on Friday night."

"Us?"

"She specifically wants you there, but she's grudgingly said I was allowed to tag along if I absolutely have to."

Annabelle smiled slightly and sat up straighter. "What's the occasion?"

"One of her friends is celebrating his birthday. I told her you might not be able to make it, but... well... we're both really hoping you maybe... could?"

"I'll be there," she said.

"But what about..."

"She can fuck off and suck it up and deal with it. After the way she's been treating me this week she could do with some time on the naughty girl's step to think about her behaviour."

"That sounds..."

"Harsh? Waspish?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Perhaps. But you don't live with her."

"I guess..." I said, softly. "I'm just... I don't like conflict at all, so your home situation sounds like my idea of... hell."

"It's my idea of hell too," she muttered. She grinned a rictus grin. "So I'll take any excuse to get out and avoid dealing with it. And an evening in a pub with you sounds like just what I need to keep myself in trouble with her."

"In that case, it's a date," I said, unthinkingly. Then I flushed hot as I realised what I'd said, and Annabelle laughed softly at my discomfort.

I walked her to the indoor climbing wall, and left her there, chatting to her friends. I worked hard on the bikes, then on a treadmill, and when I moved to the weights I realised that she was leaning against the partition wall, keeping an idle eye on me as she joked with a couple of climbers. She smiled and waved a subtle hello when she saw me looking at her, and for some stupid reason I blushed like I was sixteen again.

The idiot dream kept coming back to me, and I wished I could forget the half-remembered fantasy of her kiss; it made things ridiculously awkward where there really was no call for them to be.

I wasn't even that in to her, I lied to myself.

And anyway, she was with someone else, and despite the many names I could be called, 'Cheater' was emphatically not one of them.

Once I was done and showered, she gave me what was becoming our customary lift home, and I gave her her customary wave-off into the winter darkness before I retreated to the warm, muggy sanctum of my flat to mope.

.:.

We'd arranged that she would come to mine - she'd park her car in one of the visitors spaces and then we'd catch the bus together. It would mean she could have more than one glass of wine if she wanted, and worst case she could sleep over at my flat before heading home to face the Inquisition in the morning.

I eyed myself in the mirror before I applied a touch more blush to my cheeks, then finished up with the wonderful coral-toned lipstick that Em had found for me.

I smiled at myself in satisfaction; what a change a few months had worked on my looks and confidence...

My phone rang and I grabbed it. "Hey, are you here?"

"Just parked, yes."

"Do you need the loo or anything or are you ready to go?"

"I'm good to go, thanks."

"Ok, I'll be two minutes - I just need to grab a coat."

"See you now then."

I dug out my long navy wool jacket and dragged it on, then wrapped my favourite green and white scarf around my neck for good measure. I tottered my way downstairs in my heels.

Annabelle smiled delightedly when she saw me; she climbed out of her car and limped her way over to me. "You look absolutely lovely," she said. She came in close and gave me a brief hug, and I grinned down at her, warmed and pleased by both her gentle compliment and the physical affection that it came with.

"Thank you. So do you," I said, admiring her earrings and the ornate French twist she'd opted for. "I love your hair. I wish I could do something with mine but I'm utterly useless at that sort of thing."

She flushed as she glanced up at me. "Thanks. My word, you're so wonderfully tall in those heels. I feel short and wholly underdressed."

"No, you look fantastic," I told her, and she reddened in an uncharacteristic moment of shyness.

"Come on, it's freezing," she said.

"Is your knee okay?"

"It will work for long enough."

We made our way to the bus stop and huddled against one another, hiding from the worst of the breeze, waiting.

"It shouldn't be long," I said. "The bus we need comes every quarter of an hour or so. Number seventy one. How are you?"

"Glad to be here with you," she answered. "Freya stormed off in the late afternoon, so I at least had some quiet time to collect myself."

I gave her another impulsive hug, and she leaned in against me. "I'm so glad I met you," she added softly. "It's so nice to have someone kind and sane to be around. It makes the other stuff... bearable."

"I'm far from sane, but I get what you mean. Annabelle, you really should just stay over tonight, you know. I don't like the idea of you having to go back home to a war zone."

"Thanks. That's very sweet of you. I might just do that. Hang on, you said number seventy one, right? Isn't this our bus?"

"Looks like it. That's a stroke of luck."

I helped her climb the step, and we grabbed hold of the hand rails as the bus pulled quickly out and away. It was only a short journey, some four miles or so, and we didn't say much on the way. She just quietly stared out the window, watching the world pass us by.

And I simply stood there beside her, enjoying the jostling of her hip and shoulder against me.

.:.

"I really like your... friend," Em said.

I glanced past her to where Annabelle was in laughing conversation with a couple of nicely-dressed guys.

"She's really sweet," I agreed. "And really gentle. And..."

"You look moonstruck," my sister teased me.

"Stop it," I growled, flushing hot under Em's knowing grin.

"Uh huh. She's so slender, though, I can't imagine her standing up to that guy like you said she did."

"You should see her muscles. She held his arm with no visible effort. She's really strong, Em. Don't let her size fool you..."

"Is she built?"

"God, I reckon she could probably kick-start the Titanic. And I don't think she's got any spare weight on her. And I swear she's related to Spiderman, she can hang from things that I'm actually convinced don't exist. She's... amazing. She's... inspiring."

"She's gorgeous, that's for sure. And I love her hair."

"Yeah. I teeter between adulation and liver-consuming jealousy."

"Get her to do yours for you."

"No, that would be weird. I... I don't know if I want to go there, Em. It's... it's really complicated."

"Just ask her," Em said, softly. "You don't have to be awkward about it. Unless you want to be. I'm just saying, Izzy... nothing ventured, love..."

"So how are you?" I said, firmly changing the subject. "Everything ok between you two again?"

"Oh, you know John. Oblivious as only a man can be. We're ok. The make up sex was great."

"Thanks for the mental image," I said, pretending to retch. "I'm glad things are better. I like him. I hope you'll keep him around. He..."

"Calms me?"

"Yes," I said. I glanced past her at my friend again. "Oh. Hang on, Annabelle's out of wine. I should get her a refill."

"Nah, it's my shout. What do you girls want?"

"Another glass of the same for both of us. It's the Marlborough. I'll come help you carry."

"So... tell me the inside story. You hinted her... current partner's a bit of a fiend..."

"You know I don't like to speak badly of people, Em... but she just sounds like a really high-maintenance, stroppy, histrionic piece of work. She probably boils bunnies in her spare time."

Emma made a face. "That's horrid. So this is... what..."

"I suspect Annabelle would call it a brief moment of sanctuary."

"Fuck me. That's rough."

"Yeah. So I'm going to do my best to make sure she enjoys herself tonight, because she's going to have the Devil to pay tomorrow. "

"She should just kick the tart into touch. Move on to... someone better."

I pretended not to hear Em's blatant hint.

"I get the feeling that once she's committed to someone she sees it through to the bitter end."

Em gave me a long glance.

"What?" I said, suspiciously.

"Nothing. Just... you're a good... companion... Izzy. Looking out for her like this. I'm sure she really... appreciates it."

"She deserves nothing less. But, on that note, no more digs about dating, please. I had some seriously fucked up dreams because of you and your bloody mouth, and I really don't need the pointless distractions. Nothing will happen. It can't."

"I hope the dreams were nice at least."

I flushed red, and Emma laughed loudly.

.:.

Annabelle and I stumbled into my flat sometime after one in the morning - drunk, tired and and very, very merry.

"That was a fun evening," I giggled. "Goodness, I'd forgotten how Emma can go on when she gets started."

"She's such a sweet woman. Very much like... you."

"That's our mum shining through, I guess."

Annabelle lowered herself onto the couch with a groan. "Oh, bollocks to this leg. I wish it would just stop hurting so much for five minutes. Just five minutes."

"Take the brace off maybe?"

"Too tired. I'll just sit here and suffer..."

"I'll do it then," I declared, impulsively.

I flopped down next to her and pushed my fingers in under her knee to fumble for the velcro straps. "There," I announced triumphantly, as I freed her from it.

"I love how you just started undressing me without asking permission. I could grow to enjoy that sort of decisiveness..."

I flushed hot, and laughed. "Don't tease me like that."

She grinned, then started to massage her knee. "Thanks, Isla. That's much better."

"Just call me Izzy."

"If you want me to. But Isla is a beautiful name. I like... it."

I smiled brightly as I slumped backwards. "Mm. You know what? I'm tempted to have more wine. But I know it's a terrible idea."

"Is it really such a terrible idea? It's not like anything could happen to us. The world is safe from us until the morning, after all. I can't go anywhere in my current state, and you certainly aren't going to abandon me... are you?"

I eyed her. "You are a bad influence. Want some?"

"I would love some more. Got to get my fun in while I can," she added, softly.

She sat back, watching me as I cracked a bottle. "This is our one bad night this week, right?" I said.

"Deal. Gym tomorrow as penance, yes?"

"Yes. But late tomorrow so we can recover from tonight, though."

"Amen to that," she groaned.

I handed her her glass and sat down gently beside her again. "Annabelle... I'm really glad you came with tonight."

"So am I. It was such a lovely change for me. It was so nice to be around... normal people. Your sister was very sweet to invite me."

"I hope she didn't bore you when she dragged you off like that. She can be a terror when she gets going. But she's a great listener."

"Yes... anyway. Thank you for the wonderful escape."

I smiled at her. "It was my pleasure. So. Um..."

I sipped my wine and squinted at her. "I have a question for you. It's... a weird one and I'm only asking it because the.. the booze in my bloodstream... is giving me ideas."

"Ok... um... go ahead..." she said, eyebrow arching upwards.

"How is it that you manage to do your hair so nicely?"

She laughed. "That's not quite the question I was expecting. Well. Fine then. My mum was a hairdresser... among other things. So it was kind of... inescapable that I'd learn a thing or two."

"It's really nice. I wish I could do anything with mine, but I'm useless."

She tilted her head and stared at me for a moment. "I can, if you like? Come sit down on the floor in front of me and I'll put a braid in for you. Come on. It will be quick, and your hair is such a beautiful colour. I've been itching for an excuse to play with it and now you've unwisely handed me the chance on a platter."

"Oh... alright then. If I must. Twist my arm, why don't you..." I said as I slid to the floor in front of her.

"Scoot a bit backwards, come lean against the front of your couch. Don't mind my knees, I just need them out the way so I can lean forward a bit..."

I shivered as she pulled my hair free of my dishevelled ponytail. She shifted slightly, and I gasped again as she started to run her lovely strong fingers through my straggly tresses.

"Um... are you ok? You... uh... moaned."

"Oh God. Sorry. That wasn't... intentional. It's just... oh... oh... that's so nice..."

"You have a lot of split ends. You should fix that, your hair is so lovely."

"I... don't pay much attention to it," I managed, enjoying the exquisite way her fingers moved against my skin. "Annabelle... seriously, this is so utterly magical. If I fall asleep, just kick me over, ok?"

"Why would you?" she laughed.

"Because I... oh wow... love having my scalp massaged and... and your fingers are so nice and soft... oh my God... and it's such a delicious sort of pampering and... I never, ever get anything like this..."

"Mm. I'll enjoy remembering that I can make you make noises like this. Now, try not to shift. Or pass out. I have an idea for something that I think would look great on you."

"Do what you need to. I'm going... mm... nowhere."

I lost track of time as I sat there, drooling and twitching in pleasure, letting her decorate and primp and preen me according to her own desires. She started achingly low on my neck; goosebumps crawled in waves over my shoulders and back as she slowly worked her way upwards towards the crown of my head.

At one point she asked if she needed to gag me, and we both laughed for quite a while at that image.

Finally, she picked up my discarded hairband to secure and tie everything off.

She sighed out a breath, and rested her hands on my shoulders; I groaned and slumped slowly sideways as she gently began to knead the base of my neck. But after a few moments she seemed to realise what she was doing and stopped.

I sighed in disappointment.

"Are you still awake?"

"No. I'm completely asleep. Oh my God, you could make a killing as a masseuse. That was unbelievable. Nobody's ever touched me like that."

She started laughing.

"That's not what I meant!" I protested. "Oh my God! Annabelle! Get out of the gutter!"

"Sorry. I have a fertile mind. I'm... I'm very glad you enjoyed that so much. It feels good to be... appreciated," she added, softly.

"I'm all relaxed now. Like cooked spaghetti. I don't think I can stand."

I rolled gently onto my knees and then leaned forward, arching and groaning as I stretched the kinks out of my back. She sipped her wine and watched me with a faint, indulgent smile as I sat up on my haunches and explored the intricate braid work that now climbed upwards from the nape of my neck.

"Go and look in your mirror," she said softly. "I think it is perfect for you."

So I did, and I stared, entranced.

"Oh wow, it's beautiful," I called to her. "What is it?"

"It's a variation of an upside-down braid. It was my mother's favourite as well."

"I love it."

"I'll teach you how to do it sometime," she said. "In the meantime, though... why don't you come back here and drink your wine. Over here on the couch. Next to me."

.:.

I'd taken the couch and she'd gratefully accepted the offer of my bed, but she had clearly felt some lingering guilt over her good fortune because at some point in the witching hours she staggered back through to the living room and bullied me into sharing the bed with her. To be honest, I'd been glad to do so, because the couch was freezing and, really, far too small for me to sleep comfortably on.

We'd giggled and bickered good-naturedly as we fought one another for space in my still-less-than-ample double, before first she and shortly afterwards I passed out.

Neither of us were particularly happy when someone started a motorbike downstairs at seven o clock - and neither, clearly, was a neighbour, because the shouting match went on for a bit before the biker revved the tits off his machine and left at speed.

We'd dozed a bit longer before breakfast, and she'd left soon after to go and "face the executioner" as she put it.

I gave her a long, lingering hug to fortify her; she clung to me for quite a while before she pulled away and gave me a brave little smile.

And I'd stared after her as she left, feeling strangely at a loss.

We'd agreed to meet up at the gym at lunchtime when it was quieter, and so I spent the morning lurking on the couch, letting Netflix autoplay as I gazed blankly at the screen until it was time to shower, change, and get moving.

.:.

I disembarked from the bus and hunched against the bitterly cold wind as I made my way towards the building. A car hooted behind me; I turned, then waved, smiling as I recognised her tatty Renault. She parked up while I stood waiting for her.

"Hey," I greeted her.

"Hey yourself. I see you kept the braid," she added.

I touched it. "It's nice. I like it. And you didn't teach me how to do it so I didn't want to undo it just yet. It makes me feel... pretty."

"Not that you need help with that," she answered with a smile. "I'll share my secrets with you, eventually. For now, I'll use it as one of my negotiating tactics for when I want some quiet time with you."

Then she came over and leaned against me, sighing out as I wrapped my arms around her.

"How was it?"

She shook her head, pulled away and stared up at the clouds, then the trees around us. "Loud and... painful. I left in the end, I got tired of the screaming and came to do something more productive with my day. I'm sure the neighbours must hate me by now."

She opened her boot and grabbed her gym bag and shrugged it onto a shoulder. She straightened up, and the smile suddenly vanished from her face as she paused, staring at something behind my back.

"Fuck."

"What?"

I turned, staring in the direction she'd been looking.

"That car by the gate. The Ford. It's her. It's Freya."

"What on earth is she doing here?"

"She must have followed me to carry on with the fight. She does that sometimes," Annabelle sighed. "Oh hell. Here she comes. "

The maroon Ford raced into the parking lot and screeched to a halt behind Annabelle's car. A tall, furious brunette leaped out from behind the wheel, leaving the engine clattering.

"Is this her?" she shouted at Annabelle by way of greeting. "Is this your new slut? I recognise your handiwork on her!"

I blinked, not sure if I'd heard her correctly.

"Freya, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Seeing who you're cheating on me with, you lying bitch! I saw you holding her!"

"Um..." I said, wondering if it was worth trying to defend myself.

"Stop being such a jealous, immature drama queen. She's a friend, that's all," Annabelle said. She stepped partly between us and glared coldly up at her furious partner.

"I'll bet she is. A really special friend, hey! Where were you last night? With her? With this fat cow?"

"I'd rather be fat than hysterical," I retorted, stung by the unnecessary insult.

"I wasn't talking to you, whore!"

"Don't call her that," Annabelle said, low and dangerous.

"Or what? Whore, whore, whore!" Freya shouted. "Hey, everybody! Look at the lying, cheating bitch and her fat fucking whore!"

Passers-by detoured around us, staring. I grinned nervously, embarrassed for my friend.

"You think that's funny, do you?" she shouted at me.

"Freya, stop being such a child!"

"You're the child! You and your secrets and your silences! Well. The joke's on you! You thought you could quietly fuck this bitch on the sly? Well, guess what! I found a real woman! How does it feel? She was better than you could ever hope to be. Do you like that? Do you like hearing that? I slept with another woman and I loved it! How does that taste in your mouth, little miss fucking perfect?"