Free Hate to Love You by Elise Alden Page B

venom, overpowering my resistance to the truth.
    He had been in bed with Caroline, not me. Sure, he’d fantasised about me, but he had believed that I was her.
    Why the hell did that bother me so much? It wasn’t like I wanted him to declare his undying love for me, was it? I shook my head vehemently. No fucking way. James was still an arrogant prick and I was still screwed-up, pregnant Paisley.
    But I wasn’t a virgin anymore!
    While my parents slept down the hallway, my forbidden passage had been rampantly plundered, thoroughly looted and despoiled. A high giggle burst from my throat. It quickly turned into a laugh that escalated beyond my control. There was nothing funny about my situation, I know, but I couldn’t help it. The madwoman had escaped from the attic and she had to have her run of the crazies. I flung myself on Caroline’s bed and tried to muffle my hysteria, laughing uncontrollably and hiccupping into a pillow that smelled of James.
    When the laughter was spent I lay on my back, exhausted. I was an emotional basket case. The “dislike James” box still got a big tick, but nevertheless I felt closer to him than to anybody else on the planet.
    And now I knew what I’d wanted from the moment I’d first seen him.
    Friendship.
    Intimacy.
    Passion.
    I would never have these things with James.
    An overwhelming sense of loss coloured the sky a dark shade of bleak. Should I chalk the weepies down to the post-op blues? After all, the tearing of my hymen had been like having surgery. Or maybe my tears were caused by post-orgasmic depression. You get depression post everything else, so why not orgasms?
    My nostrils filled with the smell of sex. I’d always wondered what that meant and now I knew. It was James and it was me, fused and extracted into the sweet pungency of sweat and cum.
    Suddenly, the knowledge of what we’d done made me feel more confident than I had in a long time, as if I could do anything I set my mind to. Hell, if this was how fantastic sex made you feel then it was no wonder people were at it all the time. Putting up with a bout of post-climax depression was a small enough price to pay. Besides, my volatile moodiness probably had nothing to do with James. Last night had been my first time and that was bound to cause a few tears no matter what. I waited for the painful jab of self-deceit but nothing happened.
    It was time to get up, forget about my sister’s fiancé and get on with my life. I had more important things to worry about than James. Quietly and quickly, I stripped and replaced Caroline’s sheets, hoping my parents wouldn’t wake up until I’d crammed everything into the washing machine.
    As I tidied and freshened up the room with Caroline’s floral perfume my heart fluttered, punctuating my erratic thoughts with physical exclamation marks. When I was done I looked around, satisfied at my handiwork. I took a deep breath and shut the bedroom away, smelling of roses.
    * * *
    “You did what? ”
    Marcia’s screech would have made an opera diva proud. The afternoon was chilly with the freshness of mid-March but we were strolling down Brighton’s bustling waterfront in shorts and T-shirts, eating vanilla ice cream with chocolate flakes. Amusement arcades and tacky souvenir shops shared the channel view with the grandeur of a faded Victorian masterpiece, the Brighton Hotel. Their strident, overly cheerful music wasn’t enough to muffle Marcia’s shock. She stuck her hands over her little brother’s ears but he squirmed free.
    I leaned in close to whisper. “I had sex with James.”
    Marcia shooed Kai away and he headed for a giant trampoline in the distance. It’s hard to shock Marcia into silence for long so I took advantage and gave her the short version. When I was finished she put her hand on my forehead and looked at me like she was going to have me sectioned.
    “Bloody hell, Pais,” she gasped. “Not only did you impersonate your saintly sister to satisfy your