Michelle blamed herself for what happened to Maisie. I reminded her of that night, and she hated me for it. I should tell her it was my fault; that Maisie only had those burns because of me. But I couldn’t. If I told her that then I’d have to tell her everything else, and that couldn’t happen.
Michelle had been slightly chubbier back in 2007, but she’d lost all that weight now. She looked gorgeous back then, and she still did. She obviously kept in shape. The tight yoga pants she’d worn for the flight revealed toned legs, and I could see firm arms underneath the cotton jumper.
The rest of her looked as tantalising as it always had done. The zip on her jumper was open just enough for me to see the tops of her breasts under the strappy top. They looked positively succulent; firm and tender, almost as if they were untouched.
She looked like a model in a commercial as she tilted her head back and took a long drink from the water bottle. I suddenly felt rather hot and bothered, so I grabbed a bottle for myself from the small fridge.
Maisie looked out of the window eagerly, taking in the rather underwhelming sights around Heathrow airport, and pulling faces at people in passing cars who couldn’t see through the one-way glass.
Maisie didn’t remember what happened in the last few days she’d spent in England, but Michelle clearly did. I’d been an arsehole, no doubt about it, but I had my reasons and it was a long time ago.
I couldn’t spend the entire summer being enemies with Michelle. I could win her round, but I’d need to get some time alone with her and apologise. I had no idea whether she would accept an apology, but I had to at least try.
“Maisie,” Michelle scolded, when she caught her little sister sticking her middle finger up at another car.
“What? They can’t see me,” Maisie replied.
I caught Michelle’s attention and held my finger up to my lips, asking her to remain silent. I reached my hand up and pressed a button on the roof that changed the one-way glass to be just tinted. It wasn’t enough that people could completely see in, but someone up close to the window would be visible to those outside.
Maisie raised her middle finger on the other hand and started aggressively gesturing at a passenger in the front seat of the car next to us. The passenger turned and looked directly at the limo and frowned. She started mouthing something and then stuck two fingers up in return. The car horn started beeping soon afterwards and Maisie backed away from the window in surprise.
“Hey, this limo’s broken. The glass doesn’t work properly. I think they saw me.”
I smirked and tried not to laugh, but when Maisie peeked through the window nervously and then backed away when confronted by the sight of a large angry lady leaning out the window, I burst out laughing and pressed the button to make the windows one-way again.
“Serves you right,” Michelle said, a smile appearing on her face for the first time. I hoped to see plenty more of that. Michelle deserved to be happy all the time. It pained me to think that she hadn’t been happy these last eight years. The way Maisie made it sound, Michelle worked hard, but took little time for herself. If I had my way, she’d never stop smiling. Well, except in bed perhaps.
“I wanted you to get a proper introduction to English hospitality,” I said, still laughing at the look on Maisie’s face. “Can’t have you thinking it’s all first class flights and limo rides.”
Maisie went back to looking out the window. I stared at the side of her face where the burn marks were still clearly visible after all these years. I wanted to make a huge fuss over them and apologize profusely for what happened, but Maisie hated that.
I’d tried to explain before, but she didn’t want to hear it. She’d long since accepted that her face was disfigured and as far as she was concerned it was everyone else’s problem, not hers. I wished I had ten percent of her positivity.
The limo made good time getting to the hotel, which was just as well because I was starving.
“Do you want me to help you get to your rooms?” I asked.
“Rooms?” Michelle asked. “Aren’t we sharing?”
“No,” I replied. “I assumed you’d want separate rooms. I’m sure you don’t want your younger sister in there cramping your style if you bring someone home.”
“Ha,” Maisie laughed. “It’s more likely that I’d—”
Michelle shot Maisie a look that shut her up mid-sentence. I knew only too well that a look from Michelle could stop tornadoes. The look she’d given me when I’d told her I never wanted to see her again had stopped my heart beating in my chest. It still did when I thought back to it.
I’d had a slight ulterior motive to getting Michelle and Maisie separate hotel rooms. I would be doing everything in my power to get close to Michelle this summer and the last thing I needed was Maisie popping up at the wrong time. Better that Michelle have some semblance of privacy and then maybe, just maybe, something might happen.
“We’ll be just fine unpacking by ourselves, thank you,” Michelle said, as she stepped out of the limo. “Nice to meet you again, Oliver.”
“Are you hungry?” I yelled out, just before Bob could shut the door.
“Yes,” Maisie replied. “Starving.”
Michelle nodded in agreement. “We can eat in the hotel.”
“Nonsense,” I replied. “Come back down here whenever you’re unpacked and I’ll take you to my favourite pub.”
I made Bob keep the door open so I could watch them disappear into the hotel. I had a mental image of Michelle’s arse still in my mind from eight years ago, but she looked different now.
Her hips swayed more as she moved. I saw the doorman check her out as she walked inside. I couldn’t blame him; she must get stares from every man she walked past.
Maisie and I talked online sometimes and, even though I never asked, Maisie mentioned Michelle’s boyfriends once in a while. None of them had lasted that long, and she was single at the moment. That was all that mattered.
“She looks like she’d be quite the handful,” Bob said, as we watched Michelle and Maisie disappear from view.
“Yes, she’s got a perfect arse,” I replied dreamily.
“Um, I meant the Maisie girl,” Bob said. “She’s going to be a handful when it comes to the training camp.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied awkwardly. “Quite the handful.”
Maisie was the least of my problems this summer. I could do no wrong in her eyes. Michelle was the one I needed to win round. I’d spent eight years convincing myself that I didn’t need her, but it was time to stop kidding myself. I wanted her. The question was, did she want me?
Okay, that couldn’t be a good sign. When Maisie and Michelle came back to the limo, Maisie had changed from her tracksuit trousers and hoodie, into a pair of jeans, light cotton top, and a thin cardigan. Despite being an aggressive rugby player, she could dress quite ladylike when she wanted to.
Michelle, on the other hand, hadn’t changed at all. She still wore the same yoga trousers, top, and jumper that she’d worn on the flight. If she intended to make any kind of good impression with me at all then surely she would have put on a fresh set of clothes. She still looked damn fine in my opinion, but it did mean I’d drastically overestimated her interest in me.
My local pub was a couple of hundred years old and the car park wasn’t exactly built to accommodate limos, so Bob dropped us off a few hundred yards away and went to find somewhere to park.
I invited him to join us, but he said he didn’t want to impose. That probably meant he intended to listen to a football game on the radio. Tottenham were playing tonight and while I thought watching football was boring enough, Bob managed to somehow find enjoyment from listening to it.