The Chocolate Run Read Online Free PDF Page A

secret-like. I’d found out about the people he’d been interviewing in Sheffield earlier that day; that his mother had bought a new set of saucepans; that his brother who lived in Australia might be coming back for next Christmas; that he was just behind Matt in their goal-scoring league at football. My pyjamas and duvet were calling and I was hearing general things from Gregory. We lapsed into silence. I started picking at the label on my beer bottle, Greg stared into his coffee for a while then started gnawing at the edge of his thumbnail. I slapped his hand – as instructed to by him – he jumped, silently replied with an apologetic half-smile and instead ran his hand through his hair.
    His hair. His bluey-black, neck-length hair. Women apparently loved floppy hair – the amount of scripts or books I read where the hero had floppy hair was astounding – but I found it wrong. It was like Orange Dairy Milk. I love Dairy Milk. I like oranges. But together, fundamentally wrong. The same applied to men with long hair. I like long hair. I like men. Together, bone-shudderingly wrong.
    As I thought this, Greg started laughing. For one hideous moment I wondered if he’d read my mind and thought I had follicle envy.
    ‘What you laughing at?’ I asked.
    He shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he replied, the silent laugh shaking his shoulders and smirks escaping from the corners of his closed mouth.
    I pushed him. ‘Whaatt?’
    Greg giggled into his coffee a moment longer, then tore his eyes away from the creamy liquid and faced me full on as he said, ‘Do you really want to know?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘ All right.’ He paused, took a deep breath, held my gaze. ‘I was thinking, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I kissed Amber?”’
    ‘What’s funny about that?’ I replied. ‘You kiss me all the time  . . . Oh  . . . do I smell ? Is that it? Does kissing me make you gag and that’s funny because I don’t realise?’ I put down my half-drunk beer, lifted my arm, sniffed. A touch of Hugo Woman and a soupçon of Dermalogica Body Hydrating lotion, but other than that, nothing.
    Greg’s eyes bulged in his head like I’d missed something obvious; as if he couldn’t believe I was that thick. Almost in slow motion, he put down his coffee, leant forwards and pushed his lips on mine, his fingers stroked my face as his tongue parted my lips then entered my mouth. It’d been millennia since juicy lips had pressed against mine and I’d forgotten kissing was like this. Soft, warm, tender.
    He eventually pulled away, sat back. Silence. Silence as Greg stared at me and I stared at my former friend. My former friend who had terror streaking his face. ‘Are you cross with me now?’ he eventually asked in a low voice.
    Was I cross with him? No, I was stunned. More stunned than any other emotion. I slowly moved my head from side to side.
    ‘Shall I go?’ Greg asked.
    I shook my head again, faster this time. No. No. He didn’t get to jeopardise three years of friendship and then walk away.
    A grin spread across his face. ‘Can I do it again then?’
    I leant forwards and kissed him. I had to try it out again. I was stunned, but galloping up behind stunned was lust. And soon, this thing called lust was overtaking every emotion, every thought. His arms pulled me closer as I kissed him, then his hand was inside my top, caressing my skin. It was as though he had insider knowledge of my body; had detailed cooking instructions:
    1. Break down Amber’s defences into this many pieces
    2. Place her on the living room floor
    3. Turn the temperature up to almost boiling point
    4. Stir and stroke gently until she’s dissolved into a giant pool of desire
    5. Devour at your pleasure.
    Greg pushed me back onto the floor, eased up my top and covered my stomach in soft little kisses. He undid my jeans, kissing every bit of exposed skin and, as he reached the last button, he stopped, his face a dreamy picture of lust and satisfaction.
    ‘Are you