Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
I instantly know the voice, but I must scream because he places a hand gently over my mouth and pulls me towards him. “Shh,” he says, laughter in his tone. “She’ll hear you and I will throw you out first in order to avoid the punishment.”
I chuckle, my voice muffled under his palm as I say, “Scared of a bit of breast milk?”
“Honestly? Terrified.”
I roll my head back as he keeps one arm around my waist holding me close.
“How you feeling?” he asks.
“I feel fine,” I say, batting him off. “It was just a little fall.”
“You couldn’t hear me for a whole thirty seconds. That’s not just a little fall,” he says, and although it’s dark in here, my eyes are adjusting enough to see him scanning my face for signs of something.
It’s too tempting, having him all worried about me.
It’s been sickening trying to behave around him all day.
I reach up and let my hands roam over the rugged skin on his chin and cheek, really feel the bristle scrape over the soft parts of my palm.
“Mmmm,” I say. “You have no idea how good your face feels.”
Freddie laughs quietly. “That’s the weirdest compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
“Shh,” I say, before leaning in to press my lips against his.
This must be what he was waiting for because the next thing I know, he has me pressed up against the cool, concrete wall behind us.
I can feel the chill of it through the thin material of my dress.
I gasp against his mouth as he runs a stray finger along the top of my thigh, sneaking up and under my dress, teasing the fabric of my lacy thong.
I don’t tend to wear thongs. In fact, it was one of Adam’s many complaints about me. But tonight, I felt daring and sexy and ready to take on the world.
And that meant wearing a thong.
His finger stays there, tugging on the material as he deepens the kiss.
Now I feel dizzy.
But I only encourage him further by biting his bottom lip and sucking it into my mouth. And I’m aware, vaguely, that someone could walk in here at any moment. Once Priya has found someone, she’ll get them to help too, and it could be Sam and then this is all ruined.
Maybe it’s the alcohol but this doesn’t stop me like it should.
It especially doesn’t stop me as Freddie releases my lips and begins trailing kisses down my jaw, nibbling over my collarbone, scraping his teeth along the neckline of my dress.
Whatever it is he’s doing, it feels like there’s a warm swell expanding inside of me.
He hoists my dress up enough to kiss the bare flesh on my stomach and pauses there, groaning, as he uses his tongue to draw circles around my belly button before dipping it in, in a way that has me hopping from the wall and clenching my thighs.
But Freddie isn’t fazed.
“Hold this,” he orders, handing me my dress.
I grab the material in one hand, using my other to brush through his hair, tugging lightly on the short strands there.
“You want this?” he asks, peeking up at me from where he’s knelt down at my feet.
His green eyes are piercing under those long, dark lashes.
He doesn’t need to clarify what he means.
All I can muster is a quiet, desperate, “Mmmhmm.”
I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong, but he freezes, smiles then shakes his head. “No. Not here,” he says. But he doesn’t get up.
I drop my dress, feeling silly. Am I being rejected again?
“Sit down, Hattie,” Freddie says. I twist to find him sat with his back to the wall, hugging his knees.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I’m not getting you off in the boiler closet that stinks of bleach. You’re too good for that.”
I scoff. “No, really, I’m not.” Desperate much?!
He just smirks, the faint light sneaking through the vents at the top of the door playing with the sharp angles of his face. “Sit down with me, storm cloud.” He pats the floor beside him.
“Ok…” I say, positioning myself so our knees are touching.
Mine are bare, whilst he has smart jeans on.
Hardly seems fair. And have you ever tried to sit on the floor with heels on?
It doesn’t work. My legs feel too long. I kick them off to the side and bring my feet closer into my body. “What now?”
“Tell me about your painting.”
“Well, this will be a short discussion.”
“You’re not painting?”
I shrug. “I started one before… I wasn’t in the mood for a bit. It has a base coat.”
“I wish you’d never stopped. I need more of your art for my horrible apartment.”
“I have a vision for one.”
His knee nudges mine. “Yeah?”
“Why are we talking about my art?”
“Shall we sit here in silence instead?”
I glance at him. “Well, we were doing other things.”
“What’s the vision?”
“Freddie!”
“Hattie…”
“Are you trying to torture me?”
“Tell me the vision,” he says. His large, warm hand finds my knee and squeezes. It’s something, I suppose. I wish my instant reaction wasn’t to press my thighs together. It’s hardly encouraging him to be his usual self and behave badly.
“Well, it’s about how I see the sea. I’m always running along the seafront. I’ve gotten used to seeing it as this kind of blur. And I want to capture that.”
Freddie’s fingers trace the small gap between my thighs as I take a deep breath trying to relax. “What’s in the painting?”
“The sea…” I say like it’s obvious.
“But what’s it about?”
I snort. “The fucking sea, Freddie.”
“Nah. I don’t buy it. That boat painting is about more than the sea.”
“Is it?”
“Isn’t it?”
I press my lips together. “Alright, it’s about staying afloat amongst it all. It’s about that one thing that stands out against the background. The one thing that keeps you looking, living, breathing…”
“There it is,” he says, a smile in his voice. “What’s your new project about?”
“I don’t know, actually. Maybe that’s why it’s not coming to me.
” And then, like magic, motivations for the painting start filing themselves in that little creative part of my brain.
I close my eyes and let myself feel his fingers on my leg, the warmth and weight of them there, the way I always feel anchored and safe when I’m around him.
So much so, I find the courage to be brave and misbehave.
And then I think about what it was that initially drew me to the blur of the sea, and I think it’s life. Just life rushing by. I can’t stop it. I’ve lost my entire twenties to someone because I didn’t stop and pause and really consider what it was doing to me. I needed to breathe.
“I think it has to be about what life feels like as I pass by the sea every day. It’s not just about the sea. It’s about my life and how it feels blurred. The longer I live, the quicker everything feels.”
“I like that,” Freddie says, his hand squeezing.
“Shut up. That didn’t even make sense.”
He grins lazily. “It does to me. I’ve been so busy setting up my career, I’ve forgotten to make time for the people who I really care about. I got lost too. It’s ok, I think, to get lost. Or even to just always be lost. Maybe it’s good. Maybe being found is overrated.”
At this, I burst out laughing then smack a hand over my mouth. I’m meant to be quiet, for fuck’s sake. We’re bloody hiding. Freddie’s eyes go wide as we stare at each other but clearly Priya didn’t hear as there’s no sign of footsteps heading our way.
“What you going to do to stop the blur then?” I whisper.
I feel him shrug beside me. “I’ve been ignoring work today. Does that count?”
“Ah, that’s why you’ve been so busy doing all the random jobs nobody asked you to do.”
“You noticed?”
“The snow didn’t need shovelling. And the six-mile run?”
“That was necessary.”
“Thank you, by the way,” I say, leaning my head on his shoulder. I don’t really think anything of it, this natural feeling of wanting to be beside him, to rest on him, but once I’m there, I don’t know if it’s too familiar. And yet I don’t move. “I forgot about Dylan’s meds.”
“I like to be useful. I’ve never felt needed or helpful and I’ve been trying to change that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You helped me a few times. I never forgot.”
We both turn to look at each other at the same time and I feel it in my core like a hot rock floating downwards. Freddie swallows, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Hattie, I feel like I haven’t been honest with you.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
His hand is still on my knee, and I swear there’s a slight nervous energy seeping off him now. Our faces are so close, barely inches apart. “I…”
“They must be down here!” Sam’s voice calls out, echoing on the stairs to the basement.
I feel his voice like a kick to the gut. Freddie looks away, his eyes wide like he was just saved from himself or… actually, I have no idea. I want to press him on it. What was he about to say? Why isn’t he being honest?
Sam is in the games room now. I can hear his feet padding about. I haven’t had a chance to collect myself yet, but I sit taller and move an inch away from Freddie. “What do we say? Why are we in here together?”
Freddie tucks my hair behind my ear before climbing to his feet and offering me his hand. I let him help me up but can’t stop staring at his face, my head spiralling about what has been left unsaid.
“I was here first. You thought it was empty. Nothing more to it,” he whispers.
I nod, then the door opens and I’m clenching my eyes closed as the fluorescent lights in the basement blare into the boiler room.
“Found them!” Sam yells behind him.
I open my eyes again to find Sam looking at me for a long moment, a knot between his brows. Freddie doesn’t say anything and for some reason, I feel like we’ve been caught. But caught doing what? Talking? Getting along?
How very scandalous.
I’m almost mad at Sam. I sort of want to push him back out and close the door. I want to be with Freddie, alone. I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of his.
I nearly open my mouth. I nearly say something. I cannot tell you how close I am…
“Did we win?” Freddie asks, twisting to frown at his brother.
Sam shakes his head. “No, we still haven’t found Dylan.”
“Bugger.”
“Yeah, Priya actually has Baileys, though. She was just fucking with us.”
I snort, shoving past Sam. “I’ll take a shot of Baileys.”
I bloody need it.