The Art of Forgiving - A Uni File Short (The Uni Files) (2 page)

Okay, that is a bit strange but its Lilah so nothing is ever normal.

I’m about to say something, maybe ask if she’s hiding some hot guy
dressed only in a
pinny
inside the bin when she
speaks first. “I thought you were in Dorset?”

I offer what I like to think is my most charming smile. “I was, but then
I heard you were cooking, and that is something I cannot possibly miss.”

I start to unwind my scarf from around my neck. She is watching me intently,
her mouth still open, and then before I can even react she is across the room
and in my arms. Oh okay, she technically may have one arm loosely slung around
Meredith, but I quickly shoulder Meredith out of the way and slide my hands
along Lilah’s throat. I could just lean in and kiss her. I am so close to
making the move, but I hold myself back, and instead I just make sure that
every available inch of my body is pressed against hers. We fit together
perfectly. I run my fingertips along her jawline and up into her hair. She
stares at me and I stare at her and for the briefest moment I think this could
be it. She is so going to forgive me now. I am about to lean my lips down to
hers when she turns to Tristan and offers him a broad, open smile. He looks as
surprised as I am. Actually she is smiling at us all with a wide goofy grin
plastered across her face.

“According to
Deliah
, dinner will be served at
Approximately 11.45.” She gives her hands a theatrical wave and we all start to
giggle which in turn makes her glare at us. She can’t keep it up though. “
Deliah
suggests that if dinner is going to be late we all
get snot flying drunk on sherry instead.”

Everyone cheers and Tristan steps up to a cupboard and starts grabbing
glasses, before heading into the lounge with Meredith and Lilah. Lilah is
hugging her best friend like crazy and it makes me feel very warm and fuzzy,
although also strangely jealous because I wish she was walking into the lounge
with her arms tight around my waist.

After they have left the room I sneak a peak in the bin. I can’t help
but laugh, underneath a mountain of vegetable peelings is a Terry’s Chocolate
Orange wrapper and the plastic layer from inside a mince pie box. I can just
about make out the top of a bottle of Bristol Cream.
This explains the goofy grin.

Following the others into the lounge I have one clear game plan in mind.
Get Lilah to drink more sherry then hopefully she will be so blotted by the
evening she will not be able to resist any moves I make.

I allow myself an evil laugh and throw myself on the sofa. I make sure
to sit on the same one as her, but at the other end. Tristan shoots me a
questioning look as he leans over to fill my sherry glass. “Allow me.” I say
and take the bottle.

“Okay.” He gives a shrug and turns his attention to Meredith. I reckon
it will be five minutes before they are locking lips which gives me five
minutes to get Lilah to relax next to me.

“Turkey hey?” I fill her glass and move myself three inches closer. She
doesn’t notice. Instead her eyes watch me, it looks like she may be trying to
count my freckles again, and she gives her head a shake and offers me a small
smile.

“Yeah, I have been really bored. It seemed like a good idea?”

Shit she is actually
talking to me. Talking without glaring or stomping off.

“Seemed like?”

“Yeah. Did you know
Brussel
sprouts are a
complete pain in the arse.”

I snort my sherry right up my nose. That’s so cool.
Not.
I try and discreetly wipe the dribble of sherry away.
“Yeah, my mum always makes me do them.”

She thinks about this with her head cocked slightly to the side. “So
whose doing them today?”

“I don’t care.”

Okay lay off the intense.

“So what you been doing?” She knocks back her sherry and avoids eye
contact. I instantly reload her glass to the very brim. The glass is impossible
to pick up without spilling. Lilah has to bend down to slurp up a sip. This
affords me a gratuitous glance at her arse.

“Sorry.” I give an apologetic shrug at my shit drink pouring skills.

“So what you been doing?” she asks again.

Uh. Sitting in my room like
a sad fuck thinking about you?
“
Uh, you know just essays
and stuff.
 
What about you?”

“Same.”

“Really?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Nah. History books are bloody boring.”

I am not sure what happens at that moment but in one movement she
relaxes and leans back against the pillows placing her feet on the sofa next to
me.

More sherry.

I knock back a glass of my own before trying to shimmy my knees closer
to her feet. If I could just get some form of physical contact I am sure it
would lessen the hideous burn I have located in my stomach. “History books are
boring, and I think it would be criminal to read them until the very last
minute.” I attempt to crinkle my freckles at her, she used to love that.

Something works because she edges her toes under my thigh.

More sherry.

I pour more for the both of us and notice Tristan and Meredith watching
us. Meredith is bouncing with excitement. I send her a quick head shake to get her
to calm the fuck down. Jeez, she just has her toes under my thigh. It’s not
like she has agreed to marry me yet.

Although I may ask her
later.
Lilah is still not saying very much, she is just leaning against the
cushions watching me intently. What the hell is she thinking? It’s going to
drive me mental not knowing.

“I’m hungry,” she states. Okay not quite the ground breaking, would you
like to come and live in the States with me, conversation I was building up to.

“Want me to make you something?”

She scowls at me and slides her feet back out from under my thigh.
Damn it.
Then gets up from the couch and
walks back towards the kitchen throwing, “I am more than capable of feeding
myself,” tartly over her shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing, you loser?” hisses Meredith. “Stop talking
and rub her bloody feet or something.”

Ah ha! The foot rub – I had
forgotten about that in my repertoire of skills.

Lilah marches back in with two boxes of mince pies and a big vat of
cream. She plonks herself back down on the sofa. Okay, I am not going to get a
ruler out and measure, but she is infinitely closer this time.

I watch as Lilah sets about tearing open the box of pies and slides the
plastic tray out onto her lap. It might be completely my imagination but I am
pretty sure she breathes in a little as she does. I can’t help but grin.

“What you grinning at.”

You.

“Nothing.”

“Good.”

“Can I have one?”

“Sure,” she slides the packet towards me. “You have to do it like this.”
Lilah takes a mince pie and dips it in the cream, like a proper biscuit in tea
dunk. She then shoves it all in her mouth in one go.

My god I love this girl.

“Well if that is how it is done,” I smile. I think she tries to smile
back, but her mouth is jammed with mince pie. I grab my own, dunk, and shove.

Then I start to laugh. Pastry flies everywhere and cream dribbles down
my chin. Lilah also starts to laugh with her hand clamped over her mouth. This
makes me laugh even more, and whilst it is very amusing that we are both
spitting pastry everywhere, I am also aware of the fact that I can feel a bit
tickling my throat and I am pretty sure I am going to choke. I am not sure
about Lilah lifesaving skills and I am worried I am going to be killed by a
mince pie. I can see it now: A newspaper front page recounting all the rock
stars that have died before me at a tragic young age due to drugs and drink.
Then it would list me. Benjamin Chambers – Killed by a mince pie.

I jump off the sofa and dash for the kitchen where I manage to spit the
mince pie into the bin before Lilah who is hot on my heels walks into the room.

“Shit. I am so sorry.” she says. She starts to rub my back to ease my
coughing. I have actually finished coughing but I keep up the pretence for a
moment or two, just so she keeps touching me.

My cheeks are flaming red, from the near death experience and a heavy
dose of embarrassment; I straighten up to look at her hoping I don’t still have
cream on my chin.

Lilah looks hard at me for a moment, her gaze quickly reading the whole
of my face and then she reaches a hand and slides it along my cheek. “You
okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I guess I just don’t have that level of pie eating skill.”

She starts to giggle, her hand still against my cheek. “It takes a
lifetime of practice.”

“Clearly.”

“Fancy a drink?”

“Got anything stronger than sherry?”

She makes a strange ‘
pfft
’ sound and leads me
by the hand back into the lounge. I may have nearly been killed by a pie but
right now I would say it was worth it. I head back over to the sofa as Tristan
coughs, “Loser,” under his breath at me. I send him a quick zap sign as I
settle myself back down. Lilah follows me after raiding what must be their
liquor cabinet with a bottle of Whiskey and a bottle of sherry in either hand.

Okay then. Drunk it
definitely is.

“Shall we just get plastered?” she says. She sits down and places her
feet right into my lap, alarmingly close to my crotch, which is only too quick
to notice.

“Uh,” I squirm in my position a little. “I think drunk sounds good, but
do you think I need to check the turkey?”

“Nah. Sod the turkey. It’s got hours yet.” She starts to fill tumblers
with half scotch and half sherry. This combination has ‘messy’ written all over
it.

“What temperature is it on?” The food provider part of my brain is
starting to realise that we are going to need sustenance, other than killer
pies, at some point soon.

She looks at me, her semi smirk lifting up half of her lips. “I honestly
don’t know what you are talking about. I just cranked the dial and shoved it
in.”

“Excellent.”

“Shut up, Ben, and bloody drink.”

So I do.

It’s dark outside and I have completely lost all sensation in my legs
due to Lilah’s Christmas cocktails when my stomach gives an almighty rumble. I
am rubbing Lilah’s feet, slow soothing circles on the base of her foot. She
looks to be enjoying it. Well actually she looks asleep, her eyes closed and a
small smile playing on her lips.

“I’m going to check the turkey.” I lean over and whisper, my lips a
hairsbreadth away from kissing her neck.

“Mm?”

“I’m going to go and check the turkey.”

“Mm.”

I lift her feet from my lap and squeeze myself out from under them. I
have no idea where Tristan and Meredith are, they are missing from the lounge
which leads me to believe they are in Tristan’s bedroom doing all the stuff
that I want to be doing.

I am peering into the oven surveying the mess Lilah has made of the
turkey when I feel her come and stand right next to me. She stares in through
the immaculately clean door too. I don’t believe this oven has ever been used
before.

“How’s it looking?” she asks.

“You’ve killed it.” I straighten up and look at her trying my hardest
not to smirk at her dire cooking skills. I clearly fail because she scrunches
her face at me in response.

“What do you mean killed it?”

“It’s burnt on the top, but raw in the middle. Have you basted it?”

“What the heck is basting?” she asks, but before I have time to explain
she waves her hand at me and carries on. “Well, how do know so much, Mr. I Can
Cook Bloody Everything Perfectly.” She pouts.
Good lord that pout
.

“Well, Miss I Can’t Cook to Save My Life.” I start to giggle which ruins
my retort somewhat. “My mum taught me.”

“The only thing my mum taught me was how to drink gin.” Her words are
bitter, but she also manages an impressive drunken wobble as she says them and
I literally cannot hold in the burst of laughter that blasts out of my lips.

Lilah starts to giggle and reaches a hand onto my arm to steady herself.

“Well, I reckon she has taught you well.”

“I think so,” she sniggers some more.

“Shall I take over the turkey?”

“Yes please. I am really hungry. How long do you reckon.” She leans down
to stare back through the oven door. I move myself lower so our shoulders are
touching.

“About quarter past twelve?” I say.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Fancy another drink?”

“May as well.”

I am a little concerned though, at this rate even I might be too drunk
to get the turkey out of the oven.