“When this is over, it’ll really, finally be over.”
And for the first time, Hannah allows herself to believe that it might be true.
BEFORE
“Take it off, take it off!” April chanted, flashing a meaningful look around the rest of the group to get them to join in.
Hannah looked down at herself, and then at the cards in her hand.
It had been April’s idea to play strip poker, and at first Hannah had felt fairly confident. She was actually a pretty good poker player, and in any case, she was wearing several layers, if you counted accessories. But whether it was bad luck or the amount of champagne she had drunk, she had been losing for several hands now, and she was down to removing either her jeans or her top. She tried to remember whether she had shaved her legs in the shower that morning, and couldn’t. It would have to be her top. The thought gave her a weird feeling—halfway between a sickening thrill of nerves and a flutter of excitement. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to strip down to her bra in front of five people she’d only met that day?
“Take it off!” Ryan joined in, and then Emily. Hannah shot a look around the circle at the laughing, drunken faces. Only Hugh looked as uncomfortable as she felt. In fact, he had tried to get out of playing—making an excuse about the time and the fact that he was tired. April had been having none of it, however. Shut up, Hugh. Nobody cares. You’re playing, and that’s that, she had said. And Hugh, to Hannah’s surprise, had sat back down, tension and anger emanating from every muscle.
Now he was hunched miserably between Will and Ryan, his arms wrapped selfconsciously around his naked, bony ribs—and the only reason he was down to his jeans and not his underpants was because April had graciously allowed him to count each sock as a separate garment. Hannah again cursed the fact that she’d been wearing sandals.
“Hey…” Will said. He leaned forward, his black hair falling into his eyes in a way that made something deep inside Hannah twist with desire. He was bare-chested, his torso lean and sculpted in a way so unlike Hugh’s that they might have been different species. She became aware that she was staring, and forced her gaze up, to his face. He was smiling, but not in a mocking way. “Hey, don’t let them bully you.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Hannah said, but now she was laughing too, partly at herself, partly out of disbelief that she was really going to do this. But she was going to do it. Deep down she knew it. She could storm out, but only back to her own room, right next door to where they were all drinking—she would be able to hear their mocking laughter and the music from April’s iPod through the wall. And she couldn’t begin her three years at Pelham by establishing herself as a sore loser with no sense of fun.
But it wasn’t just that. A part of her wanted this. She wanted to be as cool and daring and sexy as April, who sprawled across the circle from her with a wicked glint. She wanted to be brash, sardonic Emily sitting opposite, totally unfazed by the fact that she had lost her jumper, skirt, belt, and shoes, was down to a thigh-skimming shirt and not much else.
She wanted to be one of these people, she was one of these people, so she was just going to have to act like it.
“Take it off!” April called again, and with a sick feeling like she was jumping off a cliff, Hannah stood up, pulled off her top, and did an ironic twirl as the others whooped and applauded. Her cheeks were scarlet, her stomach was fluttering, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scowl, so she did both, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest as she took her place in the circle. She kept her gaze determinedly away from Will.
Ryan gave a long, piercing wolf whistle and flung his arm around Emily, who was sitting next to him.
“Here you go,” he said, holding out the joint they’d been passing around. “You’ve earned it.”
“She doesn’t want that soggy disgusting thing,” April said. Her eyes were wide and bright with laughter, and her face was as flushed as Hannah’s—although not with embarrassment. She herself was down to a pleated satin skirt and her bra—but clearly not one that had been bought in a five-pack from M&S. It was a push-up in turquoise silk, embroidered with tiny scarlet and pink butterflies that made her tanned skin glow. “Have a drink, darling.”
She held out the bottle. It was champagne, produced from a seemingly inexhaustible supply in a minifridge that certainly wasn’t standard college equipment. The label was jeweled and art deco, and although Hannah knew nothing about champagne, she strongly suspected it must have been expensive. But it had been passed around the group for too long, and now it was warm and acid in her mouth, the flavor not improved by swigging directly from the bottle, as there were not enough glasses. Hannah shuddered, but she took a long gulp, feeling the fuzzy warmth of the alcohol filtering into her blood, and then she grinned and passed the bottle back to April.
“Come on, Hugh,” April drawled, “you’re up.”
Hugh nodded and began to deal.
With the next hand April lost her skirt, taking it off with a shimmying strip-tease panache that revealed long, tanned legs and a very small turquoise thong, Will lost his jeans, but the following round Hannah realized with a sinking feeling that she was about to lose again.
The hand played out with agonizing slowness, but at the end of it, her prediction proved correct and her two fours lost comprehensively. As she scrambled out of her jeans she ran a surreptitious hand over her calves and was relieved to find them fairly smooth. In the dim light no one would be able to see any stubble. Still, when she sat back down, she folded her legs beneath herself just in case. She felt sick with nerves and excitement. She could not afford to lose again. Stripping to underwear was one thing, it wasn’t that different from going swimming in the end, but getting actually properly naked… could she really do this? From the nervous frisson in the air she could tell she wasn’t the only person having doubts. Hugh had his knees to his chest as if trying to hide his skinny frame and was looking frankly mortified. Emily was chewing her lip. And Will…
As if pulled by a magnet, her eyes flicked once again to Will. But this time he was already looking at her. Their eyes met with a jolt that sent a little electric prickle running over Hannah’s skin, then she tore her gaze away, her cheeks flushed so hot that she was sure someone would notice.
April dealt out the next hand, going around the circle with tantalizing slowness, her eyes wide and dark with excitement. Some people took the cards one at a time. Hannah preferred not to. They were playing straight poker—just a simple five-card deal with no flop, and in that scenario it was hard not to give away what you were hoping for when you were waiting for the cards as they were dealt. Hugh was picking up his cards one by one, and from his body language it was obvious that he didn’t have a good hand. Emily was harder to read. She picked up the cards singly, tucking them into her hand with a little double tap on each one. Ryan looked… smug. There was no other word for it. And as for Will—but here she was stumped. Will, like her, had left his cards on the floor.
April laid out the fifth card in each hand, and as the last one went down, Hannah scooped up the whole lot and surveyed them.
Almost immediately her stomach dropped, though she tried to keep her face bland and blank.
A pair of threes. Which was about as weak as it got.
“I’m out,” Hugh said. He threw in his hand and took off his jeans—the forfeit for folding was one piece of clothing and he clearly didn’t want to risk anyone raising the stakes while he still had a garment to lose. When he sat back down his cheeks were scarlet and Hannah shot him a sympathetic look.
April was dealer so was out of the running.