Love Your Life(25)

“What are your characters’ names?” inquires Metaphor with a sweet smile.

    “Names?” Dutch looks flummoxed. He glances at me and away again. “I haven’t got to that.”

Oh God. Doesn’t he realize how obvious this is? I’m squirming on my chair, but Dutch turns the page and resumes confidently. “She had the longest orgasm, like a cry of abandon in the evening air.”

No. He did not just say that. My cheeks flame red. Does anyone think it’s me? As I glance around the room, I can tell: They all think it’s me. Frantically, I try to meet Dutch’s eye and convey the word “stop,” but he’s already reading again.

“And she was adventurous. More than he could have predicted. For example—”

“This is powerful stuff, Dutch,” Farida interrupts him hurriedly. “Is it all in…this vein?”

“Pretty much.” Dutch looks up, his face glowing. “Like I said, I was inspired. I see why you guys love writing now. It gives you such a buzz, doesn’t it? Writing this gave me—”

He breaks off again, as though he can’t even describe what it gave him.

Although I have an idea.

“Well, I suggest we leave it there for now,” says Farida pleasantly. “Thank you so much for sharing your…work.”

“Wait, I’m coming to a good bit,” says Dutch, and turns back to his text: “They did it on a chair with a high back. It was mind-blowing. She wrapped her legs around his—”

“Enough!” Farida cuts him off almost desperately and places a hand on his page for good measure. “Enough. Let’s move on now. Many congratulations to Dutch for…finding his bold new voice. Who would like to read next?”

    She spreads her hands invitingly, but no one answers. Everyone’s looking at either me or Dutch or the high-backed chair I’m sitting on.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” says Kirk at last in a throaty voice. “But I’m happy to hear more from Dutch.”





Six




As the group finally disbands for lunch, I can’t look anyone in the eye. Not anyone. I wait until everyone else has wandered off, then grab Dutch and pull him into an alcove.

“What was that?” I demand. “Everyone knew it was us!”

“What?” Dutch looks blank.

“Your writing! The sex! It was obvious you were writing about…you know. Us. Last night. Grissini?” I add meaningfully.

“It was fiction,” says Dutch, looking a bit offended. “Everyone knew it was fiction.”

“No they didn’t! You can’t just change the names and it’s fiction. Anyway, you didn’t even bother to change the names,” I add, suddenly remembering. “You didn’t disguise it at all! Everyone was looking at us and basically picturing us doing it on the chair.”

“What? No they weren’t!” Dutch pauses, and I can see him belatedly processing the idea. “Oh. OK. Maybe a couple of people thought it was us.”

    “Everyone thought it was us,” I contradict him firmly. “Everyone.”

“Well, then…they were jealous.” His eyes glint wickedly, and in spite of myself I smile. Then he pulls me closer and adds, “I wish we were doing it on the chair. I missed you this morning.”

“I missed you too,” I murmur. My indignation seems to have melted away. It’s the spell he puts on me. “?‘Mind-blowing,’ huh?” I add teasingly. “Is that your five-star review?”

Dutch gives a low chuckle.

“Let’s grab lunch quickly,” he suggests. “And have a siesta.”

“Good idea.”

He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin. As we gaze at each other I can see the thoughts playing in his eyes, and I shiver with anticipation.

“Shall we go?” he says, as Scribe crosses the courtyard, along with Beginner and Booklover.

“Yes. No. One more thing.” I wait until everyone’s out of earshot, then say a little tentatively, “I was going to ask you your name. As my personal question of the day.”

“Right.” I can see a slight wariness in his eyes. “OK.”

“I was going to.” I hold up a hand to stop him blurting it out. “I know it’s against the rules of the retreat, but I thought, if we were…you know, together, then…” I draw breath. “But then I changed my mind.”

“Oh, really?” He peers at me as though he can’t follow my thoughts, which to be fair, he probably can’t. No one can follow my thoughts. Nell calls me Alice in Wonderland because I end up wandering down so many mental paths at once.

    Which isn’t strictly speaking what Alice in Wonderland does, but—

Oh, OK. I’m wandering again. Focus, Ava.

“We’re in a bubble here.” I gaze at him, trying to convey the strength of what I’m saying. “And it’s kind of magical. At least, I think it is.”

This is Dutch’s cue to say, “So do I,” but he just carries on gazing at me, as though waiting for me to continue.

I suppose at least he didn’t say, “No it’s not.”