The Polly Principle by Davina Stone

Chapter 23

Carts was frothing.

That was really the only word to describe his behaviour. He’d been bounding around with the vacuum cleaner all morning, and now he was running in and out with boxes of food and drink. Solo went out to the car to help him.

“How many did you say you were inviting?”

“About thirty. Mostly work colleagues, a few from university, Dan, Poll… my best mate Aaron’s still in the UK, which is a pity, cos you’d get on… And um, a few women and of course, urmmm—Judith.”

Solo’s lips twitched and he hefted out a carton of beer. “Good move.”

Carts gave him a furtive glance. “I’m going to ask her out tonight. I reckon I stand a better chance on my birthday.”

“Why?”

“Pity date. Turning thirty and all, she might feel sorry for me…”

“Oh, Christ, mate, that means I’m a lost cause at thirty-two.”

Solo plonked the beers down on the island bench next to boxes of dips and cheeses and crackers.

Carts frowned at the food on the benchtop. “Do you think this’ll be enough?”

“More than enough.””

“Great. Can I run my outfit past you?”

“Sure, mate, of course.” Solo grinned at Carts’ eager face. Every day he was getting fonder of Carts. The guy was six-foot-six of kindness, rather awkwardly put together. And according to Polly, he had the worst luck in love. Solo hoped he wouldn’t be rebuffed on his birthday. But then, the way Judith acted around Carts, like she’d been lit up from the inside, Solo reckoned the odds were in Carts’ favour.

“I’ve got two different shirts and I don’t know which one.” Carts’ eyes were awash with excitement. He looked like a kid trying to decide which treat in the toyshop he should buy. Somehow Solo guessed it would have to be one of those science kits that grew crystals, not the Action Man with a machine gun.

Why couldn’t more women see the merit in that?

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll just put the beer away. Call me when you’re ready.”

After Carts disappeared, Solo squeezed beer and wine bottles into the already tightly packed fridge. Carefully stacked the dips and put the cheese and meats in the cold drawer.

“Duh-duh, what d’you think?”

Solo straightened and turned to see Carts doing a catwalk slink around the kitchen table, one hand slung casually onto his hip, his long chin coyly dropped to his chest, eyelashes batting.

Solo burst out laughing.

Carts followed suit. “You mean you don’t like my seductive look?”

“Maybe tone it down slightly. The shirt’s great, though.”

It was a really nice shirt, Solo thought with admiration. Subtle white and grey shapes that resembled feathers on a black background, and a slim fit that was in at the moment. With his pencil-thin jeans and shiny black shoes he did actually look pretty sharp. Tall, but sharp.

“Okay, that’s close to a ten in my books. Show me the other one.”

Carts scooted out the door and Solo laid copious bags of chips and snacks out in a neat line on the bench. He hoped Carts had thought about buying some bowls to put them in.

Carts’ second number was also pretty snazzy. A bit on the wild side for Carts, which made Solo mildly suspicious. “Did someone help you choose?”

Carts blushed. “Polly. I texted her some shots.”

Solo turned away quickly. Something like envy stabbed his gut.

Be realistic, mate, these guys go back to uni. But it still needled him.

“Poll’s got great taste,” Carts said.

Solo focused on the psychedelic purple and pink patterns in the shirt. “This one’s a bit busy. I’d go for the first one. More sophisticated.”

“But which would impress you more? You know, if you were a woman?”

Solo felt his lips hitch. “I don’t know, mate. Women are a complete mystery to me.”

Carts sighed. “Okay I’ll go for the first one. Or maybe I’ll text Polly and ask her. What do you reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Solo, slamming the last packet of chips onto the bench. “Don’t trust my opinion. Ask Polly.”

* * *

Polly metJudith at the end of Carts’ street at 8.30 p.m. sharp.

Judith was wearing a flowing cornflower-blue dress dotted with little yellow flowers. She’d clearly been to the hairdresser. Her long hair hung in perfectly styled waves, bronzer highlighted her cheekbones and her lips were a perky candy pink.

“Wow, you look a million dollars,” Polly enthused.

“Thanks.” Judith gave her a quick hug. “I am soooo nervous.”

Polly stepped back. “You’re crushing badly, aren’t you?”

Judith bit her lip and gave a little nod. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. You know my antennae for these things.”

They started walking.

“Talking of antennae, my underdeveloped one has been sensing something,” Judith said. “Are you and Solo dating?”

Polly laughed too loudly. “God no.”

Judith glanced at her sideways and shifted a wave of blonde away from her face.

The blotchiness marched its way up from her cleavage. “We’re just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

Judith gave a little nudge with her elbow. “Are you sure it’s only fun?”

“Why would it be anything else?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Polly said nothing, the heat intensifying into her neck, sneaking over her chin. “And the way you look back,” Judith finished.

Polly let out a snort.

“No, I have, Poll, you go all misty eyed. I’ve seen it across ward round, in the tearoom, when you’re—”

Her cheeks must now resemble a Californian sunset. “Okay, okay. Enough, I don’t do serious, you know that.”

“Oh, shame,” Jude sighed. “Maybe one day you’ll realise falling in love is worth it.”

Polly chuckled. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are saying that right now.”

“I’m not a cynic like you.”

Polly blinked. “I’m not a cynic.” Doubt lodged in the back of her throat. “Am I?”

“Not for other people. Only for yourself,” Judith said, then added with a quick glance, “You do deserve love you know, Poll.”

Polly stared at her sparkly toes in her Louboutin look-alikes. And how come her Gigi Young dress suddenly felt too tight around her ribs? (Too many omelettes for breakfast and too much strudel, clearly.) She’d let herself relax into her curves since Solo seemed to worship them so thoroughly.

Worship? Seriously, she didn’t use words like that in relation to men. And why the sudden warm glow spreading out from her middle? Grrrr!

As they walked up the steps to Carts’ door they could hear the music blaring. The party was already in full swing. A thousand tiny bubbles were ready to explode in Polly’s stomach at the thought of seeing Solo, which was dumb because she’d seen him at work today, slept spooned against him just two nights ago.

She was at risk of losing her sanity.

She tucked her arm tightly in Judith’s and squeezed. “Don’t worry about me, I was born without the love chromosome. But here’s to your dreams coming true, eh?”

Jude squeezed back and then Carts threw open the door and there was no room left in Judith’s world for anything but the man standing in front of her.

Cute. Not.

In the kitchen, Polly’s gaze found Solo like a homing pigeon. He was pouring drinks for Dan and another guy she recognised from the odd pub session, and as if he’d sensed her presence, his head came up and he shot her a dazzling smile.

Her vagina did a happy dance. Only it wasn’t just her vagina, was it? It was all of her.

She wended her way over as casually as she could. “Hi Dan. Hi—um.” She racked her brains.

“Chris,” the guy said with a smile.

“Sure, Chris.” She pressed her hand to her cheek. “Remind me, you work with Carts, don’t you?”

“Yeah, in revenue management. We’ve met a few times at the pub.” His eyes behind his glasses shot to her cleavage and then back, and the poor guy looked like he’d just stepped on a wasp’s nest.

Polly felt sorry for him. It was so hard for guys these days, you couldn’t be seen to be ogling. She gave him a flirtatious smile and he looked relieved, then flattered, but really, truthfully, she was just trying to make Solo a little bit envious.

And she didn’t even know why. Because Solo had been behaving impeccably, made all the right moves in and out of bed, whispered things in her ear that would make any normal woman melt like hot caramel. She cast a glance to see him watching her intently, a tiny frown pleating his brow, and her heart sped up.

Another moment and Polly excused herself and strolled over.

She picked up an empty champagne glass and held it out to him. “Are you the waiter tonight, Dr J?”

He grinned, and she sensed him relax. Had her little flirtation worried him? The idea made her tummy do the bubble bath number again.

“Seems I have been given that role, yes,” Solo agreed.

“Then I’ll have a champers, thanks.”

He inclined his head, a salacious little smile playing around his lips as he murmured, “Madam’s wish is my command.”

As he handed her glass to her, she moved closer and whispered, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

She loved his sudden intake of breath. “I might have to punish you for that later.”

“Bring it on, Daddy.”

They both laughed, and she brushed against him and he pulled her close for the briefest second. The hard planes of his body, the strength of his arms made her feel—what? Kind of cherished. Special. She forced herself to focus on the pulse between her legs. This sexual thing between them was insane. And totally within her comfort zone.

Love? Okay, so her mind had toyed with the idea at Dad’s party. But a cat could toy with a mouse. Didn’t mean it loved it.

Phhtt. Honestly, Judith should keep her opinions to herself.

As she shimmied out of Solo’s embrace with a quick, “There’s a line waiting to be served,” Polly saw Carts talking earnestly to Judith in a corner of the room, so engrossed he wasn’t even greeting his other guests. Now, that was just plain rude.

Polly sighed, spotted another friend she hadn’t been in contact with for a few months, and went over to say hi. She needed to ration herself where Solo was concerned. Otherwise it would all burn out before he even returned to Sydney.

But it was only ten minutes before he joined her. Someone had turned the music up.

“Will you dance with me?” His head bumped close to hers.

“Okay.”

It was a boppy number and they skirted around each other. Polly was good at dancing, clubs had been her happy hunting ground for years. Solo, she noticed, had the same fluid athletic moves when he danced as he did when he walked or rode his bike, or made love…

Polly shimmied harder to push away that four-letter word.

At least there wasn’t any Chris Isaac playing. It was all nineties bop, but then Angus and Julia Stone’s “Big Jet Plane” came on and Solo moved in and put his arms around her. His forehead touched hers. The silver of his eyes, those dark lashes, seemed to cast a spell on her. Losing all capacity for self-control, her hands slid around his waist. She almost swooned with the deliciousness of their bodies swaying together. Like this was where she belonged.

In her periphery she caught sight of Judith and Carts linked together.

“Don’t stare, but I think those two are getting it on,” she whispered.

Solo laughed low in her ear. “Didn’t see that one coming.” His voice was laden with sarcasm.

“I guess the energy’s been pretty intense.”

“A bit like you and me.”

Polly stiffened. “No, we’re different.”

“In what way?”

“We’re—” She hesitated, what were they? They weren’t exactly a fling, there was too much emotion for that… friends? Fuck buddies? It felt like someone had glued the words to the back of her tongue.

“We’re—”

For some stupid reason she lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him. One eyebrow shot up, in synch with the deep groove in his cheek. They stayed like that, Polly mesmerised, lost in the softness of that silver gaze. He was going to kiss her and she wanted him to; so, so much. The words she’d been trying to say disintegrated. Her eyes watered as other words she couldn’t possibly say kept flashing in front of her eyes like Broadway lights.

Just then something caught Solo’s attention, his eyes shifting past her. She felt his whole body stiffen. Polly’s head swivelled to follow his gaze.

The most beautiful woman she had ever seen was hovering in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room.

Her dark hair hung straight and heavy to her waist; she was tall, but perfectly proportioned, almost waif-like; two huge blue eyes peered out of the perfect structure of her face. A silky chiffon dress hung beautifully on her bone-china frame. Everything about her was exquisite.

What wasn’t exquisite was the way Solo was frozen like an ice statue, eyes wide and unblinking.

By now Carts had dashed over to the woman and was pointing towards them. Polly stumbled back as the girl’s eyes skimmed past her and landed on Solo, sudden relief spreading across her face.

Polly stared at Solo. He’d gone ashen.

It felt like a car smash was happening behind her ribs.

“You know her?” The words punctured out of her mouth.

He gave her a fleeting look, cloudy, indecipherable, but somewhere in there she was sure she saw regret. And shame.

And now she knew what the car smash was all about. He’d taken her for a ride. Just like fucking Danny O’Dougherty.

Solo nodded. “Yes,” he said, and she saw how he swallowed as if his mouth was dry; cheeks that a moment ago were white flushed a deep, dull red. “It’s Emma.”

And then he strode across the room towards the vision of loveliness.