Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
?? LONDON, ENGLAND
R owan grinned down at his phone, chuckling softly as he drew a small heart next to the picture of a baby Thiago before posting it on his Instagram story, captioning it with “Hey, @thiagovalencia, you used to be so cute. What happened?”
Just as he pocketed his phone, whistling delightfully, oxygen got knocked out of his lungs when someone collided with his chest.
“Fuck my life.”
Rowan was about to open his mouth—to complain, or whine, or make a joke—but stopped himself. He could recognise that honeyed voice anywhere—metres away, in his dreams, in his nightmares.
He blinked and took a step back, only to find Avery crouched down in front of him as she picked up a to-go cup of tea that had spilled over the floor.
Rowan couldn’t fathom why he always felt immobile in her presence, like he’d lost his senses and become defenceless, and not necessarily in a bad way. It was just bizarre.
He pushed the thought aside and gaped down at the woman cursing under her breath.
Her lips formed into a small pout. “I was really looking forward to drinking that tea.” She then rose to her full height and glared at Rowan. He ignored her regard full of disdain as he studied her outfit, a hint of a smirk drawing on his lips at the sight of her signature Converse paired with jeans and a blazer. “Thank you for that. Really.”
The sarcasm dripping from the tip of her tongue was akin to poison ivy.
“Wouldn’t have happened if you had been watching where you were going,” he jested.
He found himself disappointed when she didn’t fight him and only muttered, “Whatever.”
Pivoting, she found a bin and threw the empty cup in it, aggressively. Frustratingly.
Their gazes collided.
He blinked. She blinked back.
How was she even blaming him? It was obvious she was the one who had bumped into him.
She then strode to the other side of the hallway and retrieved a bunch of napkins on the catering table before lowering herself to wipe the mess away.
Rowan could have walked away, but instead, he stayed and watched her with an incredulous expression. “You know there’s people for that, right?”
She scoffed, but didn’t look up. Her glasses slid down and she pushed them back up. “So? If you’re just going to stand there and be a dick, just leave.”
He folded his arms across his chest, his brows raising. “Having a bad morning?”
“It was decent until you knocked out my drink.”
“It wasn’t my goddamned fault,” he grumbled.
Stepping away from the crime scene, he glanced again at Avery. A janitor had come to stand before her. When he asked if she needed help, Avery kindly replied that she had everything under control.
This woman was everything he had expected her to be: fierce, smart, and unpredictable.
Needing to clear his head by wasting his energy on the treadmill, he hit the button of the lifts just when another voice echoed.
It was Eliott passing by, holding two laptops, an iPad, bags hanging from both of his shoulders, and a camera strapped around his neck. That man-bun of his was fucking ridiculous.
“Hey, Ava,” he said, grinning, just as she threw away the wet napkins. She found a hand sanitiser dispenser on the wall and washed her hands. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Avery shook her head, dropping her gaze to look at Eliott’s occupied arms. “Need a hand?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she chuckled. “Come on, give me your bags.”
Why did she have to be so nice all the time?
Rowan narrowed his eyes when he saw Eliott’s face flush. He handed Ava a bag, albeit slowly. “Thanks. So? Tonight?”
“Right. Uh, yeah, I’m not doing anything. Why?”
They pivoted, ready to walk in the opposite direction. Still, Rowan could hear their conversation loud and clear. “This new pub opened in Soho last week. Wanna join us and a few people from the team?”
Rowan caught a glimpse of the bright smile growing on her face. “I’d love that.”
Shaking his head as the bell chimed, he stepped inside the lifts where Tate was already waiting, a bored expression on his features as he leaned against the wall, hands buried in the pockets of his joggers. Regardless of his nonchalance, he nudged his chin in greeting when he met Rowan’s gaze.
“Don’t you look happy to be here on this fine Friday morning,” Rowan quipped, teasing his friend with a wink.
“Delighted.” Gently, Tate slapped the side of Rowan’s neck when the latter came to stand beside him. “We’re strengthening your fat neck today.”
“Moron.” Rowan took his phone out and searched for the newest pub in Soho. “Down for a drink tonight? We should ask if the guys are free.”
“Yeah, right,” Rowan scoffed, yet a wide grin had overtaken his features. “As if you’d agree to drink from my shoe.”
“Not your stinky shoe, Emerson,” Noa clarified, his nose slightly scrunched in repugnance. “But maybe from mine. Keeps me sane knowing where the shoe has been.”
“That’s just disgusting,” Sasha complained from Rowan’s side as she brought the rim of her glass to her lips. “The whole concept makes me want to vomit.”
“Loser,” Tate chimed in. “You said you’d do a shoey for Rowan’s first win this season too.”
Rowan snorted softly at Sasha’s disgusted expression. She shuddered and huffed. “Is it too late to back out?”
“Nope,” Noa said. “You pinky promised all of us.”
“Damn the pinky,” the blonde grumbled before taking three large gulps of her cocktail. “I’m really not looking forward to your first win, Ro.”
With his arm draped over the back of the booth, Rowan pushed Sasha’s head towards the table. She tried to resist him, and he ended up ruffling her hair. “Get lost.”
Laughter echoed around the table, blending with the loud noise of happiness unravelling around the pub.
Rowan brought the bottle of beer to his lips, his gaze roaming around the crowded place.
Reuniting with Noa and Sasha felt nice—relieving in some way. When Rowan and Tate moved to London in their late teens, they first lived in a small house they had shared with other people: Noa and Sasha.
Noa Nguyen worked for a law firm in the centre of London. Rowan had clear memories of him crying over enormous law textbooks.
Sasha did a lot of things: she worked two times a week in a bookshop, helped her mother’s art gallery grow, and took evening classes to open her own business. She had never known what to settle for, but she’d never been ashamed of that. Rowan liked her for that—for taking life slow, easy.
Sadly, with all four of them being busy with their careers and, well, life, it was only on rare occasions that they could reunite all together. Today was a lucky day for Rowan.
Rowan’s attention was nearly brought to Sasha when she started rambling about her latest hookup, but not quite as his gaze was pulled towards the pub’s entrance.
Through the mass of people standing before the bar, he saw Avery enter, and he smirked in triumph behind the mouth of his bottle.
He couldn’t see her clearly, but she was wearing a long, black coat with a purse hooked under her armpit. She smiled politely when she pushed past a group of men, trying to get further into the cramped space.
When she spotted her friends, she waved and let her lips curve into a beautiful beam. Brushing past Rowan’s table without so much as sparing a glance his way, she reached Eliott’s table which was only a few booths down.
There were too many people around their table, yet a seat had been reserved for Avery. She squeezed in, took her coat off, and smiled at Eliott who was sitting to her right. Not even a second later, no one was paying attention to her anymore, but it seemed like she didn’t care about the lack of attentiveness.Rowan observed her fold her arms across her stomach, before looking down at her outfit. Had it not been for the person who had come to stand between him and Avery, he would have lingered his gaze on her physique and wondered why she had frowned at herself.
Rowan decided he wouldn’t be bothered by her presence or existence.
He focused back on his own friends, and when Tate’s gaze found his, his friend scowled and mouthed, “ Are you fucking dumb?”
Rowan frowned. He mouthed back, “ You’re more dumb than me.”
Tate’s eyes flickered to Avery, then back to Rowan. His lips moved: “ Really, mate?”
Rowan shrugged lazily.
Sasha’s voice came through, “The fuck are you two mouthing about?”
“Excuse me? I’m so sorry to bother you. Could I just get a photo with you?”
Rowan’s grin widened when he looked up at a woman with brown hair who had come to stand by his booth.
He took a sip of water and nodded before standing up.
The fan gave her phone to Tate who, with so much enthusiasm, got ready to take the picture.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Rowan made sure not to apply too much pressure on her bare skin. She, however, looped her arm around his back as her other hand came to rest on his chest—just between his pectorals.
Rowan nearly rolled his eyes when her breasts were pushed into his side. Still, he grinned handsomely at the camera.
He’d been spotted taking pictures with several people tonight. Some fans more timid than others, and some girls more bolder—like this one in particular.
“Thanks,” she beamed as she stepped away.
She had bright blue eyes, rendering her gaze seductive in a way.She sure was an attractive woman.
“Cheers,” Rowan said then when she didn’t try to carry on the conversation—or simply try to make some as she kept checking him out in silence.
Her gaze travelled down his torso, leisurely. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Rowan heard Tate’s low snicker. He was so used to this scenario. So used to accepting the flattery and whispering the rejection. “I’m not interested, love.”
Offended—like they always were—she simply huffed and turned around. He didn’t even look when she tried too hard to sway her hips or flip her hair.
He was still standing when Noa asked, bewildered, “Why the hell did you say no?”
Rowan shrugged and sat back down.
“What happened to the Rowan who used to dip his dick in every woman looking his way?”
He winced. “You’re really tarnishing my reputation, mate. I don’t know. Must be my age. I’m becoming wise and careful, y’know?”
His three friends snorted loudly.
“Sure, being twenty-eight is so old,” Sasha said.
Rowan couldn’t recall the last time he had hooked up with a random person at a party. Was it weeks ago? No, more like several months, if not over a year.
He wasn’t interested in them anymore. Perhaps part of himself was yearning for something stable, more serious.
What a waste, right? He was a high-performance athlete, followed by millions of people who begged for his attention, but rejected beautiful women’s offers to have fun just for one night.
Maybe something was wrong with him.
His gaze slipped to Avery, albeit unwillingly. Like he was naturally drawn to her. Like she was merely a sparkling ember, he gravitated towards her like a moth to a flame.
She was now sitting alone at the table as her group of friends had gone to play a round of eight-ball. Her attention was on them as they took turns exchanging the cue whilst she cradled her empty glass between her hands.
But when she stood up and walked to the bar, Rowan decided this was his signal to go and taunt her.
Because she couldn’t escape him if she tried. Because there was no way he’d spend the night without annoying her. Without riling her up. He enjoyed seeing her so flustered and frustrated.
Forearms braced over the edge of the counter, she drummed her fingers to the rhythm of the music and waited for her turn to be served.
“Following me?” she asked when he approached, still looking ahead of herself.
He leaned his elbow atop the wood, fingers passing through his hair, a grin touching his lips. “Wow. Fancy seeing you here. Isn’t it crazy how the world is such a small place?”
“Right. So crazy.”
Dark eyes collided with his, and he couldn’t help but wink. She rolled her eyes in blatant annoyance, causing his smirk to spread wider.
“How’s your night going so far?”
Avery’s gaze narrowed on him as she shifted to face him. He tried—he really, really did—not to glance at her outfit where a black top clung to her chest, its neckline so low that he could trace the shape of her full breasts.
It was no secret to Rowan that Avery was a beautiful woman.
Younger than him but still beautiful, very much so.
But she was more infuriating than anything, so he blinked.
“Funny you should ask,” she started, “because it was decent before you appeared out of nowhere and decided to bug me.”
A dry chuckle rose from the back of his throat. “Funny you should say that because mine was going so well before you decided to walk inside the pub where I was already in and enjoying my drink.”
“Not everything belongs to you or is a fucking competition, Rowan.”
He smiled broadly because he knew that acting nonchalantly would irritate her. “I know.”
When she pivoted, the bartender was in front of them. Apparently, smiling was optional for the man, but Avery still beamed at him and asked for a shot of tequila.
“Do you want something?” she asked coldly when she felt Rowan’s stare roaming over her side profile.
“I’m good.”
She rapidly peered at him. “What are you still doing here then?”
A lazy shrug of his shoulders was his next move. “Just wanted to say hi to my least favourite publicist.”
He was enthralled by the faux smile plastering her lips. “How sweet of you. Hi . Bye, now.”
Rowan couldn’t help but snort softly at her sardonic tone. Couldn’t help but let his gaze trail from her fingers gripping the small glass to her mouth when she downed the liquor in a swift motion. Couldn’t help but raise his brows when she simply held his gaze and dabbed the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
“Please pretend I don’t exist,” she demanded as she turned on her heel.
Well, that was an order he couldn’t execute, no matter how hard he tried.
“Avery. Get down and sit your ass on the chair before I do it myself.”
Pretending she hadn’t heard him, Avery kept on dancing on the chair, screaming the lyrics of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! at the top of her lungs.
He hadn’t been able to look away from her—from her smile, her moves, her unwavering happiness.
Rowan felt as though he was a house of cards, ready to fall to his knees before this enchantress as she moved like she was a full-on rainstorm.
Rowan wasn’t sure what he’d do if she fell and broke an arm or something. Someone would have to replace her for the next race. He didn’t want that.
No one could fire back at him as well as Avery did.
No one knew how to handle his attitude the way she did.
It was only when the song ended that she finally decided to regain some senses, hopping down with a bright smile still on her face. Her chest was heaving as she cheered along with the rest of the patrons enjoying the night.
Tucking a strand of hair behind an ear, her gaze collided with Rowan’s. “What are you looking at?”
He couldn’t really hear her voice through the loud music or find the right words to say. She was still high on adrenaline, on euphoria. She was golden in this sea of people. Was, somehow, the only person he could see, and he couldn’t fathom why.
“You,” he said.
“Me?” she asked with a frown on her brows. Then she laughed and shook her head, like she didn’t believe him.
Rowan’s friends were busy drinking near the bar whilst he’d been watching over Avery. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t simply live his life and not care about her. In the back of his mind he was well aware of the truth, but he’d rather lie to himself than face that odd reality.
“My friends left,” she announced, a hint of sadness woven into her tone.
Rowan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re not your friends, Avery. Where’s your date?”
She tilted her head. Frowned. Leaned forward. “Sorry, what?”
Rowan had to focus on the back of someone’s head so he wouldn’t glance at her cleavage. Her sweet fragrance enveloped his senses, and he huffed. “Your date.”
“I don’t have a date.”
“Dalton?”
Avery chuckled before straightening herself. “He left too. And he wasn’t my date.” Her shoulders were lifted into a shrug as she reached towards the table to grab another shot. “I don’t care. I’m having fun. Getting shit-faced alone. No one’s going to wait for you to be happy, so get up there and shine your light. Just do whatever makes you happy.”
Rowan laughed heartily. She was drunk, delighted, talkative. She had spent an entire song telling him about the time she had danced to that music in front of her primary school, and he knew then that she was too drunk to know she was talking to him so openly. He didn’t even know how she had ended up at his table in the first place.
“Is that your life advice?” he asked, grinning.
She lifted the glass. “That’s my mantra. Cheers.”
She downed the shot before taking a sip of her Coca-Cola. Then, her hand reached out to the last shot.
“You should slow down.” Rowan had watched her drink with her friends before they left. He’d watched her more than he should have.
“But it’s the last one,” she countered with a pout forming on her lips.
“You’ve had too many already.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she bit out. “I want it.”
“Your grammar is terrible.”
“Says you.” Her accusation was followed by a scoff.
He reared back, holding his laughter in. “My grammar is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I could write you a goddamn poem right now and make you fall in love with me.”
Avery glowered. “Good luck with that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“I’m going to make you wish you were dead before you can even think of seducing me.”
The laughter finally broke free before he took a small breath. He tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. “And how are you supposed to get back home?”
“The tube? Walking? A cab? It’s really not that far away.”
He stood up abruptly. Her gaze trailed lazily from his torso, to his throat, and up to his eyes. “You’re not walking home alone in this state.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I am. I’m a big girl.”
“And you’re stubborn. I’ll drive you home.” He was about to leave, anyway. “Come on.”
She narrowed her eyes, planting her hands on her hips. “You had a drink, too.”
“Just a beer,” he admitted, slightly impressed by the fact she knew that. “Three hours ago, so I’ve sobered up. Let’s go.”
“But I want to take the shot.”
“Avery,” he grumbled.
“Rowan.”
He sighed, throwing his head back. “You’ll let me take you home afterwards?”
She nodded.
“Promise?” he prompted with raised brows.
“Promise.” She batted her lashes. “Give me the shot.”
“Say please.”
“Nope,” she said. “I might be hella drunk, but I’m not begging you for anything. Ever.”
“We’ll see about that.” This woman would drive him to madness. “All right. I’ll give it to you.”
Grabbing the small glass, Rowan stepped towards Avery. All of a sudden, his entourage turned into vague, blurry shapes. He watched her pupils blow wide as he inched closer and closer, until his breath fanned across her skin. Until he could see how the artificial, yet dim light of the pub shone on the side of her face like she was meant to be under the spotlight.
He wasn’t sure what had surged through him when he lifted his other hand to cup her chin, guiding her head to tip back. Too lost in another world, Avery didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. The pad of his thumb pushed on her chin to oblige her lips to part. When her mouth fell agape, he gently poured the contents of the glass onto her tongue, then guided her to close the gap.
Avery swallowed, keeping her wild gaze locked to his, and he suppressed a grunt at the sight of her gleaming, full lips.
He lingered his caress on her chin for a few beats too long before letting go, jolts of electricity dancing on his fingertips. “Good girl,” he praised with a smug smirk, trying not to focus on the wild beat of his heart and the heat spreading across the back of his neck.
“What did you just call me?” Even her words were stuck in her throat as though she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened either.
Rowan held Avery’s bewildered gaze for a moment, but couldn’t control the direction his perusal drifted to when the tip of her tongue came to wet her plump lips.
“Nothing.” He poked her forehead, and she batted his hand away. “Let’s get going.”
“Wait,” she said. “My coat and bag.”
As she went over to the table where she had sat earlier, stumbling and giggling to retrieve her belongings, Rowan texted Tate to update him on the situation.
His friend stared at him from the bar. You dumbass, he mouthed.
Rowan
I’ll explain later. Do you need a ride?
I’m leaving now.
Tate
I’ll crash at Sasha’s. Closer than home.
Just get Ava somewhere safe.
Fucking idiot.