So Different When so Alike
“Okay, Florence,” I sighed, desperate to make this morning feel better.
Coffee? A refreshing morning swim? A run along the sandy shore?
My gaze fell on my travel suitcase. Maybe there was something else in there…
something that could definitely work. Besides, I wanted to chase away these constant relentless thoughts about Miles, his hair, and that scent my brain refused to forget.
God, the sexual tension was definitely getting the best of me.
Head tightly pressed against the soft pillow, my body slightly arched as I ran my fingers down my waist. I was just a click away from reaching the big O, or maybe two.
Well, it did really depend how my body reacted to the speed modes of my vibrator.
“Mmm,” I murmured, slowly closing my eyes. “And…here it goes…”
Unfortunately for me, thinking of Miles this very moment was rather…
agreeable? Oh, well, who was I kidding? It was definitely satisfying.
It didn’t take much for the temperature of my body to rise, a fine mist of sweat coating my flushed skin.
My breathing became frantic; one time it was a low hum, the other it was a ragged moan.
And, I thought, whoever invented this tiny extension for clitoral stimulation, I was…
truly…truly grateful. I was probably going to Google that later, but now…
Gasping for air, I quickly chewed on my lips, feeling the sensation spreading across my body, slowly building up at the centre of my core.
Legs spread wide, hips moving towards the rhythmic thrusts that worked so perfectly well with my questionable imagination.
“Oh, God!” I breathed blissfully. “Oh, God! Yes…oh…oh, no! No! No!” My eyes snapped open as I blinked rapidly a few times.
“God, no!” I cried when the battery so treacherously decided to die the very moment I was this close to the finish line.
“You…ugh! Bitch!” I groaned, throwing my little friend away.
And there I was, unsatisfied, laying in my bed, asking the universe one very important question. “Why?”
***
Heading downstairs, I quickly navigated the long corridor, desperate for a dose of caffeine, when I heard Mark talking outside.
Considering saying hi, I abruptly stopped myself as soon as I heard another voice coming from the garden patio.
Miles. Making a swift twirl on my heel, I was going to tiptoe quietly and then, with the coffee in my hands, I’d sneak back to my room.
“Who? Florence?” I heard Miles say my name with denial. Hmm, now was I going to eavesdrop? Apparently so!
“Yeah! Florence! I thought you two hated each other,” Mark laughed, “but whatever was going on between the two of you yesterday started proving me wrong.”
“We barely even spoke,” Miles said with a scoff in his voice.
“Yeah! I saw that!” Mark mumbled back.
“And…?”
“Very suspicious!”
“How was it suspicious?”
“I don’t know, dude. I know you, and yesterday at the dinner table, that wasn’t who I knew.”
“Please!” A short laugh escaped Miles. “She is obviously, um, good-looking and all, but sometimes she can be, um…a lot to take in?”
A lot to take in? My jaw dropped immediately. Since when was I a lot to take in? God, these were the exact words Father Kristian used to describe my mother yesterday. What a slap in the face!
“Hmm, whatever you say,” Mark mumbled. “But you’d tell me if there was something going on? Right?”
“I’m definitely not discussing this with you, but I swear, we are not sneaking into each other’s bedroom, if that’s what you’re asking.”
What on earth?! Who the hell was he thinking he was?
Ugh! My cheeks turned raging red as I swung the cupboard wide open, frantically rummaging through the mugs.
“A lot to take in! A lot to take in?” I muttered, snatching the coffee glass standing in front of me.
A sudden breath caught in my throat as a sharp shatter followed the clinking noises of the tiny crystal pieces scattering across the kitchen floor.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I muttered, tightly squeezing my eyes.
“God, everything is going wrong today, I swear.” Quickly dropping to my knees, I tried to remove any evidence I was ever here.
“Florence?” Mark stood inside the doorframe, looking at me. “Are you hurt?”
“Nope, just clumsy,” I muttered.
“Let me find a brush,” he offered, striding out of the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” Miles called out from the garden. Great! I was definitely not going to respond to that.
Carefully picking up the small pieces with my hands I glanced up, a tall figure stood towering over me. “Seriously? Going bare-handed on broken glass?”
“Those are my hands, not yours,” I shot back, mumbling.
“Come on, you could hurt yourself.”
“Got it.” Mark reappeared with a brush. “Let me help.”
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. My cheeks burned bright pink; the temperature seemed to rise higher the moment Miles entered the room.
Cleaning the dustpan full of broken pieces, Mark glanced at me, then down my hands. “Is that a cut?”
“Um…” I quickly followed his gaze. “Oh! Just a tiny one. Good thing I know how to deal with this.” Ignoring Miles’ intense stare, I turned to the sink, washing off small traces of blood on my fingers.
“Wanna join us outside?” Mark offered.
“Thanks, but I’ve got to head to the store,” I mumbled hesitantly.
“Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be outside,” Mark walked past Miles. “Shall we?”
“Yep! Let me grab another coffee first.”
Seriously!? I rolled my eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Miles asked as soon as we were left alone.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I shot back over my shoulder.
“Florence?” His voice shifted and I knew he was now standing behind me.
“Look,” I turned around, finding him too close. “I wish I could talk a little more, but I really have to head to that store.”
“What is so urgent, exactly?” He tilted his head, a question in his eyes.
“Well, um, things!”
“Things?”
“Yeah! The ones you buy at the store.”
“This sounds like a lie, Florence.” He raised his eyebrow, challenging me with his stare.
“Fine then,” I muttered. “Batteries! I need batteries for my vibrator. Happy now?”
A playful twist of his lips revealed a dimple in his cheek, a smirk plastered across that annoyingly perfect face.
God! We were practically pressed together, his warmth radiating against mine.
My body, specifically the lower part of it, hummed with the memory of the unfinished morning business I very much wanted to finish.
And if he dared to lean in even a fraction of an inch, my eyelids would betray me in a heartbeat.
Ugh! Focus, Florence! Remember the things he just said about you?
Self-respect! Aretha Franklin immediately echoed in my head.
Respect, Florence—the damn word—letter by letter—was carving into my brain as we speak.
“Miles?” I whispered, mustering a subtle tone in my voice. And I swear his body urged an inch closer, his eyes never leaving mine. Gotcha .
“Yeah?” he asked softly, his teeth sinking gently into his lip.
“Have a blessed day!” I shot at him, the words sweet like poison, suggesting it was time for him to go.
***
“Champagne, Miss Grant?”
Glancing at Rose, a lovely assistant of the wedding salon, I quickly nodded with a smile. “Yes, please!”
My mother and I, comfortably nestled in sofas across from each other, patiently waiting for my sister to reappear in her wedding dress.
Quietly sipping on my flute, my eyes roamed around the room, spotting a couple of gowns hanging; each was a delicate piece of work.
If I ever got married, I thought, it would have to be something very simple and classic, and there definitely would be buttons.
Yes, Dorset buttons! Perhaps at the back? Or was that too much?
“You know, Florence, you too are going to be a beautiful bride.” My mother’s voice softly pierced the silence, snatching my attention back to her. “Something plain,” she said, looking at me, her gaze slowly shifting down my figure, “nothing gaudy, well, that isn’t your style anyway.”
A single eyebrow raised with a question as I stared at my mother. Had she developed the ability to read minds or…simply knew me that well?
“What?” she shot at me. “Don’t look so surprised, Florence.
I may know a thing or two about you, even though you are so desperately trying to prove me wrong.
After all, you are my daughter. You may beg to differ, but we both are very much alike.
” Raising the flute to her lips, she paused just for a second and then quickly took a small sip.
Hmm, with a smile, a tiny crease appeared on my forehead as I tried to veil the slight confusion on my face.
“Miss Grant?” Rose’s welcoming voice stretched from across the room. “Your dress is also ready to try on.”
“Sure. Thanks.” I rose to my feet, following her to the fitting room, silently praying Jo had mercy on me and my bridesmaid outfit was nothing like the one I once had to wear at my college best friend’s wedding that had me questioning the whole meaning of friendship itself.
Peach, for heaven’s sake, wasn’t really my colour.
And there it was, hanging on the back of the door, an elegant, sheath silhouette, off-the-shoulder pastel green gown. Simple but tasteful. “Hmm.” I pressed my lips together in a thin grin, trying to hide a flicker of surprise. “It is beautiful.”
“Your mother was very specific about the details.”
“My mother?” I turned, glancing at Rose.
“Yeah, well, and the bride too,” she quickly added, eyes fixing on mine. “Oh, I now see why she wanted it in green. Such a compliment to your emeralds!”
“Um…thank you.”
When I entered the bridal suite, my sister was already there, looking gorgeous; like a princess. A fitted bodice with a dramatic, full skirt was always her classic fairytale wedding dream. “Wow!” I breathed. “Wow! You look stunning!”
“Gosh! I do, don’t I?” She laughed, giving us her best twirl.