MORE THAN HE PAID FOR

The straps of this orange silk gown are dangerously thin, the ridiculously low back makes my bare skin prickle. But this will prove to Matt that I’m more than an exam-swamped bore. No more, ‘Babe, I’ve seen you in that hoodie a hundred times.’ ‘Babe, you know I’m only looking at her because I’m imagining you in that dress. You should see it as a compliment.’ That one really upset me. But surviving the stress of exam season meant I bit my lip and said nothing. I’m dolled up to the nines now. Hair teased and curled into a shimmering honey waterfall No underwear. I’ve not been waxed within an inch of my life for no reason. At the long, chrome-topped bar I order two glasses of champagne. With zero hesitation, I knock the first flute back in one go. In the reflection of the gold-trimmed floor-to-ceiling windows, I catch sight of myself. A red-lipped temptress, perched half-confidently on a slender bar stool Just wait. Just f*****g wait until Matt sees. I want him staring at me with desire. Not another sheepish glance from between my thighs before confessing, ‘Babe, you know I don’t like going down on you, you’re just so good at looking after me…’ For the past six months, I have studied like a madwoman. Tonight, the brain is switched off. From here, sipping my second glass of bubbling fizz, I can see inside another hotel. The much more exclusive Hotel Belmont’s cocktail bar. I watch the poised young women mingling. All with enhanced breasts, plunging dresses and waxy, cold expressions. Those glossy women always make me feel less. How do you compete with perfection? My hotel bar is just my lookout spot. A cheap room to get changed in. All part of the plan. Because tomorrow is Saturday, our third anniversary. Matt asked me to keep it free. But a few days ago, I checked Matt’s work calendar. I saw he had booked himself into the Hotel Belmont. Meeting a client for dinner at seven. Any moment he will wander into that beige, expensive cocktail bar. My Matt. Steel-coloured eyes and ashy hair. Cute smile. He’s a project, my friend called him. Full of potential. My plan is perfect. When he strides in, I’ll call his cell. Watch his jaw hit the floor when he spots me, just a slender road apart. Realising his Cora isn’t wearing her slouchy hoodie tonight. Will he say I’m acting trashy and reject my idea? Damnit, I’m getting into my own head. I take another few sips of champagne. Matt will love this. This is exactly the way to let off some serious steam. My cell buzzes. MATT: Meeting the client now. Probably be a late one. See you tomorrow. Anniversary take-out sound good? XOXO A little smile glides across my face. I take another sip. ME: Don’t work too hard tonight! Take-out sounds great XOXO The piano player in my shiny, tacky hotel bar strikes up a tune, just as my handsome boyfriend of three years strides in. Separated by twenty metres of glass and road, Matt searches the room, oozing confidence. Scrambling for my cell, I need to get this moving before his client arrives. Out of nowhere, one of the perfect girls stands up. The fake whiteness of her teeth beams even brighter as Matt approaches. This is the client? Really? Then she wraps her arms around his neck and beams. Matt smiles back. Like, really smiles. Her long, platinum hair shimmers whilst Matt's hands grip her clinging red mini dress. When he gives her chin that little rub with his thumb that he does to me, my stomach plummets. I’m watching my boyfriend of three years passionately kiss someone else. Am I picking take-out for our anniversary because he’s spunking all his disposable cash on…well, spunking inside this other girl? The outrage ignites a chain reaction deep inside me. Oh we are done. So f*****g over. Drowning in exams and pressure I’ve ignored every clue he was a cheat. I can almost hear his voice in my ear. Pleading. Justifying. “Babe, you can’t say no to a girl like that. You just don't get it.” I need to get out of this dress. Right now. Head back to our apartment. Do I have time to burn every item of clothing he owns? Or do I go and stride over and cause a scene? Fuck, yes that’s what I want to do. I want to smear ‘Cheating f**k’ in lipstick across every one of these floor-to-ceiling windows. Time to go. Swigging back the last of my champagne, the bubbles taste beyond bitter. Except, swivelling from my perch on the barstool, my champagne flute pauses halfway round. There’s an obstacle. One very tall, very serious looking man, my hand pressed against his heart. Like smoke rising from a fire, something inexplicable stops me from looking away. The darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Paired with an immaculate, tailored white shirt, sleeves rolled. Gorgeously thick forearms. When he reaches to move my hand from his solid chest, I flinch. The glass drops and breaks instantly, tiny shards of potential pain everywhere. By the time the glass is cleared, the stranger has replaced my empty glass with a full one, sipping his own nonchalantly. How and when did that happen? “Can I join you?” gesturing towards the bar stool next to me. He’s got a voice rolled in melted chocolate. Dark and rich. Definitely educated. His white shirt is tailored to his trim physique perfectly. Glancing at the other hotel window, there is no sign of Matt. My heart is too numb to feel anything right now. Standing right in front of me, there’s someone looking at me. Really, really looking at me.. Extending a long leg I slowly push the stool next to me towards the stranger. I don’t know if I trust how fast my pulse is speeding right now. Maybe it’s crazy, but knowing Matt doesn’t give a s**t about me, it makes me feel a little reckless. “Take a seat.”