Chasing Clouds Read online

  “Who’s next?” he asked to no one in particular. A smartly dressed guy who looked to be in his late twenties put his hand up and ordered three pints of lager, two shots of tequila and a packet of crisps. Elodie looked on in disbelief as he downed the shots in quick succession and chased them back with one of the pints. He caught Elodie’s eye and grinned at her, exposing a large set of pearly white teeth.

  “Celebrating,” he said by way of explanation. “Fuckin’ smashed it at work today! Got promoted to head of sales, my buddy and me are on a sesh. We’re the kinda guys that work hard but play harder, if you know what I mean? Come join us if you want?” He grinned that large toothy grin again and gestured to a table in the far corner where a slightly older man, also in a suit, sat typing furiously on his mobile phone.

  Elodie managed a small smile and congratulated him before making her excuses and quickly turning her attention to her own phone. She didn’t want to spend any more time talking to him than she absolutely had to; even from their short exchange, she could tell he definitely wasn’t her type of person. Thankfully, the barman saved her. He took her order and poured her a large glass of her favourite Pinot Grigio blush. Elodie took a long, satisfying drink and the cool liquid slid down her throat easily. She paid for her wine and turned around, surveying the room and hoping that there would be a free table a reasonable distance from the two salesmen. There was. She wandered over and settled herself on a small table, enjoying the immediate relief she felt as the weight was taken off her feet. She reached inside her bag and pulled out the magazine she had been reading the previous day. She couldn’t help herself; it was like she was addicted to looking at things she couldn’t have. She read an article about the best pizzerias in Italy, one about the most secluded beaches in Australia and a third about the top five best airlines to fly with, all the while sipping her wine and periodically checking the time. She wanted to stay out later than usual but she didn’t want to push the boat out too far. Having to make his own dinner would be punishment enough; Tom found even the most basic dish a culinary challenge, he couldn’t even make cheese on toast without needing guidance.

  Elodie walked into their little home at a little past quarter to nine. Tom was sat in sweatpants and a hoodie playing video games in the living room; the remnants of a takeaway lay on the floor next to the sofa and from the looks of the empty beer cans on the coffee table he’d been home for quite some time. He glanced up from his game when she entered the living room. Tom barely afforded her an acknowledgement and quickly returned to the important task of shooting zombies.

  “Hey,” Elodie said reproachfully. She could tell from his attitude that he had no intention of offering an olive branch first. Tom grunted a reply, his gaze locked fixedly on the screen in front of him. “Have you had a good day?” Elodie asked, probing a little further.

  Tom continued down the road of silence. In Elodie’s opinion, his current defiance would make a five- year- old seem mature. Elodie decided not to rise to it, it just wasn’t worth getting sucked into his vacuum of immaturity. Instead, she quietly slipped off her trainers, dropped her bag next to them and headed upstairs for a bath.

  Elodie sank under the hot bathwater and enjoyed the feeling of the rose- scented bath bomb she’d dropped in moments earlier fizzing around her. She squeezed her eyes shut and enjoyed the brief moment of utter solace she found under the water. Her mind was all over the place: she’d had visions of coming back home to an apologetic Tom, of them making up and enjoying a lazy evening in front of the telly together. She hadn’t banked on just how stubborn he could be. She had to ask herself, was taking the high ground worth it? ‘Was ignoring his childish behaviour the right thing to do?’ In the quiet of the bathroom with nothing but her own thoughts for company she decided that ‘no, it was not worth it.’ Elodie knew that after her bath, she would wander downstairs and apologise to Tom; she would be the one to offer an olive branch and she would be the one to make amends. She couldn’t help but chuckle morosely to herself as she heard her mum’s voice in her head advising her to do ‘anything for a quieter life.’

  Elodie sat up and reached for the shampoo. She squeezed a decent amount into her palm and lathered it into her thick locks, enjoying the therapeutic feeling her fingers provided. She rinsed the shampoo from her hair and repeated the process with conditioner. Her chocolate- brown mane felt incredibly soft and silky to her touch. There were few aspects of her physical appearance that Elodie felt wholly positive about but her hair was one of them. She climbed out of the bathtub and reached for her towels – Elodie was the kind of girl who just couldn’t function without two, one for her body and the other for her hair. She was almost ashamed to admit that these towels were almost as old as she was. They had originally belonged to her grandparents and they had gifted them to her when she’d moved away from home. As a poor student, she’d accepted them gladly. She still used them every day and considering how old they were still in really good condition. She knotted the towel around her chest and twisted the other on top of her head and winced as she felt one particular strand of hair pull a little too tightly. Elodie took a quick glance at herself in the mirror. She made eye contact with her reflection and was pleased to see that despite the tense night and long day she was looking reasonably fresh- faced and relaxed. ‘Must have been that bath bomb,’ she thought as she cleaned her teeth. She carefully applied light moisturiser before pulling the towel from her head and hanging it over the rail so neatly that it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a five- star hotel. She twisted her damp hair up into a tight knot and let out a big sigh. ‘Time to be the bigger person,’ she thought to herself. Elodie tiptoed down the stairs, the towel wrapped tightly around her, and quietly made her way over to Tom who was still sat on the sofa, his attention firmly fixed on his game.

  “Can we talk?” she asked him, placing her hand on his shoulder gently. He shrugged her away and made an almost inaudible noise that under most normal circumstances would probably have been confused for a cough. Elodie knew better. She knew Tom like the back of her hand. This was him testing her; he wouldn’t win, though. She had made up her mind and had decided that she wasn’t going to leave until they had made amends.

  “Tom,” she said, a little more forcefully, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, I’m sorry for last night. Can we just be friends again?”

  Tom paused the game but didn’t look at her straightaway. He did move over slightly, giving her enough space to sit down next to him. Elodie lowered herself onto the sofa and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned towards him and kissed his cheek gently. The faint, sweet- smelling aroma of rose petals gave way to the hoppy scent of Tom’s beer.

  “You’re forgiven,” Tom conceded, nuzzling into her kisses.

  Elodie pulled away as Tom turned to face her. He reached out and cupped her face in his hands. “You are beautiful, you know,” he said sincerely.

  Elodie could feel herself blush: compliments were few and far between with Tom. He wasn’t the type of guy to shower praise on someone endlessly, if Tom said something nice to her she knew she’d earned it. Tom pulled her into him and their lips met. Elodie was surprised to find herself on the verge of crying; her eyes prickled, tears threatening to spill at any moment. Tom didn’t notice, he parted his lips as the kiss became more intense and extended his tongue, probing the inner recesses of her mouth, all the while holding her face firmly. Elodie felt him move closer and moved herself backwards so that she was practically lying down. Tom released his grip and climbed on top of her. She felt his weight press down on her and then a hand between her legs. She parted them automatically to allow him full access to her most private area.

  Tom began by stroking her. There was nothing gentle about his actions. He moved with furious purpose, eager to get to the main event. Elodie let out a small moan as his fingertips brushed over her most sensitive spot, she arched her hips, encouraging him to linger there
a moment longer. He didn’t. His hand had withdrawn and was now tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. He pulled them down to his knees and Elodie saw that underneath he was naked. He was already hard, the moments he’d spent between her legs enough to turn him on. Tom reached out and in one swift motion undid the towel she was wearing, revealing her round breasts. He leant forward and took one nipple in his mouth, pinching the other between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He let out a moan, the sound stifled by Elodie’s ample bosom. His erection pressed against her soft folds and she felt him push his hips forward and begin to invade her. Tom thrust his hips in and out of her steadily; she raised herself up to meet each and every one of his thrusts with perfect, practised timing. Tom gripped her shoulders and used her to steady himself as his movements became more and more frantic. Before long Elodie felt the tell- tale signs of climax. Tom tightened his grip and she felt his body spasm, he let out a long husky moan at the same time. After a few moments, he became still and withdrew. Sitting up and grinning, he reached for Elodie’s towel and began to clean himself up.

  “Thanks, babe, that was awesome,” he said proudly, pulling his grey sweatpants back up and returning to his game.

  Elodie sat there for a moment, not entirely sure how she felt. She was, of course, happy that she and Tom were back on speaking terms but their encounter had felt hollow and she certainly didn’t feel satisfied. She pulled the towel back around herself and got up. She made an excuse about getting dressed and headed back to the bedroom. Outside she heard the rumblings of thunder and was certain that a summer storm was on the way.

  Chapter 3

  Elodie had the following day off work. She had gone to bed early the previous night. She hadn’t ventured back downstairs after leaving Tom on the sofa playing that awful zombie game. She really couldn’t understand how a grown man could become so obsessed with a video game. She had fallen asleep before Tom had come to bed and woken up after he had left for work.

  Elodie stifled a yawn and hauled herself out of bed. She slipped on her comfy slippers and pulled the curtains back ready to greet the day. She had been right about the storm: angry- looking grey clouds hung overhead and fat droplets of rain fell in droves onto their small patio below. Elodie shuddered, she was glad she didn’t have work to go to and could spend the day inside relatively guilt- free. After all, who on earth could possibly go out in this weather?

  After a breakfast of fluffy buttermilk pancakes and fresh fruit Elodie settled herself on the sofa. The house was peaceful and quiet and Elodie took a moment to enjoy the serenity. The sound of raindrops against the windowpane gave a strangely calm soundtrack to the day. She decided on a pamper day: a quick flip through her new travel magazine followed by a face mask and a little mani- pedi would be just what the doctor ordered. As she was working the following day she reasoned that she wouldn’t have time to pamper herself before the big night out. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she thought about it, she couldn’t believe how excited she was. She rummaged on the dining table for her magazine but to no avail. Tom had left a fair amount of paperwork on there, which had almost covered the entirety of its surface.

  ‘I wish he’d just pick up after himself… just once!’ she thought, annoyance giving way to anger as she saw he’d left not one, but two dirty plates on the table and just covered them up with his paraphernalia.

  “Ugh! Tom!” she said out loud in exasperation, unable to find her magazine and irritated beyond belief at his slobbishness.

  A sudden thought struck her: she hadn’t actually told Tom about her night out. ‘Not that I need his permission,’ she thought to herself quickly before her brain had time to argue. She fumbled for her phone, reasoning that a quick text to tell him of her plans would at least be the polite thing to do. Elodie glanced around for her mobile, she was sure she’d left it around the house somewhere. She got up and looked on the sofa, running her hands down the sides of the cushions just in case it had fallen down the side. She was interrupted by a frantic knock at the door.

  “I’m coming,” Elodie called out as the banging became more furious. She wondered who on earth it could possibly be. The postman had already been and unless Tom had ordered something there really was no reason why anyone should be at the door. Elodie’s fingers closed around the doorknob, she twisted it clockwise, pulled the heavy front door towards her and peered through the crack.

  “Are you going to let me in or what?” an absolutely soaked and obviously annoyed Carla demanded. “I’m pissed wet through!”

  Elodie flung the door open and Carla shot inside, water dripping down her face and pooling on the hallway floor.

  “What are you doing here and why didn’t you bring an umbrella?” Elodie said, laughing at the sight before her. She was pleased to see her friend but confused as to why she would just turn up completely unannounced.

  “Firstly, if you’d answered your phone you’d know I was coming and secondly, it wasn’t raining last night when I left the house,” she said coyly.

  “What, do you mean last night…” Elodie trailed off, catching the look in Carla’s eye. “Oh you dirty stop out,” she said in mock horror. “Who’s the lucky guy then? Or girl?” she added quickly, seeing Carla’s eyebrow raise.

  “Guy actually. Mark, he’s really sweet, was great in bed. Don’t think I’ll see him again though, his flat smelled like feet and I’m sure he said he was in finance, almost killed my lady boner then and there, but thankfully I’m a pro and powered through!” she laughed mirthlessly.

  “You want to be careful; if you build those walls too high they’re likely to turn into a prison,” Elodie said sagely.

  “Look, if it doesn’t feel one hundred per cent right, then it’s one hundred per cent wrong. That goes for all circumstances, always. If there’s an inkling of doubt, then get out,” Carla replied, rolling her eyes and pushing her way inside the flat.

  Elodie grabbed a pair of Tom’s jogging bottoms from the clothes horse, looked at them then quickly put them back. Instead, she chose a pair of her own pyjama bottoms and a T- shirt and handed them to Carla. “Here, put these on, you’re soaking. I’ll hang your stuff up to dry.”

  Carla didn’t need telling twice and began to strip on the spot almost before Elodie had finished speaking. She stepped out of her sodden jeans and pulled off her now nearly transparent white cotton top and threw them on the floor. She took the spare clothes from Elodie gratefully and slipped them on.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said sagely as she pulled the pyjamas on. They were a couple of inches too long in the leg so Elodie bent down and rolled them up for her.

  “There we go,” Elodie said, satisfied with her work, “almost perfect.”

  Carla thanked her as she bent down to retrieve her clothes. Elodie took them from her and placed them over the now spare rail on the clotheshorse. “Coffee?” she offered.

  Carla nodded fervently and rubbed her hands together, evidently still a little cold from her journey.

  “Have you got anything to eat?” she asked. “I’m absolutely starving, never got round to dinner last night,” she finished with a wink.

  Elodie had a couple of pancakes left over so reheated them and made Carla a scaled- back version of what she had had earlier on. Carla ravenously ate the pancakes and washed them down with several swigs of the strong black coffee. When she had finished, Elodie took her plate and set it down on the kitchen counter along with her own, vowing that she would do the washing up as soon as Carla left.

  “So to what do I owe the pleasure?” Elodie asked when the two women had settled themselves in the living room.

  “The guy I saw last night, Mark, well his flat is literally just round the corner, I didn’t realise how close it was last night, I was pretty wasted and it was dark when we got back to his,” she explained.

  Elodie tried her best to keep a neutral expression on her face. She lo
ved Carla to bits but didn’t like her meeting random people on dating apps and going back to theirs at the drop of a hat, especially in such an inebriated state. In her opinion, it just wasn’t safe. But, as she did with most things, she kept her mouth shut; she wasn’t about to try and parent Carla on the importance of personal safety. Elodie remembered all too clearly the time that Steph had tried it: Elodie recalled walking into Betty’s Book Café several months ago to a frosty atmosphere that was palpable from the moment you stepped through the door. It had been as though an icy palm had slapped her around the face the second she’d pushed the door open. The atmosphere was due to Steph trying to have a well- meaning word with Carla about sexual safety. Carla did not take kindly to what she had called ‘judgemental bullshit’. Elodie knew that Steph would have meant well and wouldn’t have intended to come across as disparaging but she seemed to have a natural knack for it, so Carla, in true Carla fashion, had flown off the handle in defence. Elodie had played peacemaker and it had taken every ounce of her diplomatic abilities to bring Carla round. It was with this in mind that she kept her face as still as possible.

  “So what was he like then?” Elodie asked, keen to find out more about this guy. If Carla ended up with someone who lived just round the corner then maybe they could double- date. It was difficult at times having single friends. Steph had Andy, of course, but he was never here and Carla had exceptionally high standards that she wasn’t willing to lower. Tom’s friends Al and Pat were all coupled up, which made double- dating easier but they weren’t really her cup of tea. The girlfriends were nice enough but they were cliquey and Elodie never really felt very involved. Their conversations circled around reality TV shows, office gossip and fashion, none of which Elodie knew of or cared for in the slightest.