Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Please note the story tags.
This is the story of what happened one night, maybe eleven years ago, when my friends boyfriend told me he loved me at the end of a night out. The two of them actually got married a couple years later and now own a pizzeria on Swansea seafront, but neither Joe nor I have ever told my friend what happened that night. It remains one of my most sordid secrets.
A group of us had gone out on a Saturday night on the mile; friends, couples, a few people I didn't know. I wore a white backless crossover dress that showed off my legs and my midriff. It was one of those dresses that my Father certainly wouldn't have approved of if he'd seen it - it was way too short and revealed much too much flesh - but we'd not long come back from Malta (where we'd go on family holidays each summer) and I wanted to show off my tan.
It was, predictably, very loud and very messy, but everyone had a great night - we danced and did shots, I think there was karaoke - and, unless my memory is wrong, nobody fell out - which is a rarity for a large group of drunken Welsh girls and even drunker rugby players!
At the end of the night Fran was supposed to be giving me a lift home. As it transpired, she was way to drunk to drive so her boyfriend Joe, who was also drunk but the most sober, offered to give me a lift. He still shouldn't have driven, but not wanting to get a cab on my own, and despite knowing better than to get into a car with a drunk driver, I got in the car with them both anyway.
As I climbed into the back seat I noticed Joe staring at my ass. My dress was so short that he undoubtedly caught a flash of my underwear as I clambered in, but as I sat down he quickly averted his gaze. I didn't mind him staring, it happened sometimes and I was pretty sure I'd caught him a couple times during the evening already.
As we drove Fran complained that she was really drunk was going to puke. Not wanting to have to clean up a mess, Joe decided to drop her back first and I waited in the idling car, twirling my dark curly hair (like I do when I'm drunk) while he took her inside. When he came back he took me back to my parents house at the top of Sketty and while we drove I noticed him checking out my legs and the high cut of my dress again.
I had known Joe, or known who he was, for most of my life. We weren't particularly close but we'd gone to the same school so we knew the same people and most of the rugby lads were a part of our circle of friends. He was ginger, although he kept his head shaved and was thickly built with really strong arms. He'd been with my friend for maybe eighteen months and they seemed perfectly happy.
It was a hot summer night so I had the window rolled open. As we pulled up to my parents house the clock in the car read 3:15 am. The lights were off inside.
"Good, they're asleep," I said tipsily; "I don't particularly want to face the inquisition at this time in the morning."
Joe laughed.
"Thanks for the lift," I said and leaned over and gave him a quick hug. He squeezed me back, hard.
"No worries Grace," he growled in his thick Welsh accent. "You feeling alright, yeah?"
"Yeah," I replied, "just a bit drunk."
He laughed. "Me too - don't say nothing though, right?"
I grinned and got out and made my way unsteadily up the path toward the front door. The security light came on, momentarily blinding me and I turned around to wave goodbye. Joe had been watching my ass again and quickly looked up to meet my eyes. He waved back.
I turned and walked up to the door, rooting around drunkenly for the keys in my bag. I was thinking about how I could sneak in without waking anyone when heard the engine of Joe's car turn off and his car door open.
"Need a hand Grace?"
"--No. It's okay. I Just can't find -- Oh wait, here they are!" I whirled around, holding my keys up triumphantly and was surprised to find him standing right next to me. He was so close that I could smell the booze on his breath.
"Is everything--"
"I have to tell you something," he said quietly, insistently. "And I don't want you to think it's just 'cos I'm drunk."
He moved even closer and I looked up into his eyes. Joe is well over 6 foot, and while he has a bit of a belly on him, he was a rugby player and his upper body was nothing but slabs of muscle. In total contrast, I'm 5'2, a size 6 and like 110 lbs, so I'm positively tiny next to him. I blew a tangle of hair from my face.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I don't quite no how to say this," he admonished. "But... I'm in love with you Grace. I always have been. You're amazing."
I was stunned into silence. I felt as though someone had slapped me. I was not expecting him to say that!
When I didn't respond he reached out and grasped my arms with his massive hands. "I mean it Grace," he implored.
"Joe... Don't be silly. You're drunk. You can't--"
"I'm not. Well, I am. Drunk. I mean. But it's true. I... I love you Grace, everything about you."
He squeezed my arms gently. His skin was pale against my tanned flesh.
"You're beautiful. Sexy. Funny. Smart. Anyone ever tell you you look just like Michelle Keegan by the way?"
They had, actually; so I guess I do. Before I could answer though, he leaned in and said quietly: "I want to fuck you so damn badly Grace".
When I look back I think: What was it about him saying that? Why was it that line that made me think that I wanted him too, that this might be a good idea? I should have told him to go home; I should have told him to go fuck himself.
