Chapter 9
ALEX
I Can See You | Taylor Swift
If she kept putting Sarah within touching distance of him, Abby was quickly going to become Alex’s favourite person.
He’d been good through breakfast the day before, keeping his flirting to a minimum from the moment Abby and Erik had joined them at the table. He’d even put a shirt on before they ate. Although, just once, he had nudged her knee. Quickly enough to smile it away as an accident. She hadn’t bought it. Naturally.
And now she was glaring at him over a table covered in wedding invites and envelopes he had somehow been roped into addressing.
But when she wasn’t directing her annoyance in his direction, she was…happy. Laughing at a joke Erik made, smiling while she made a round of coffee, teasing Zoe—a petite woman with short black hair whom he vaguely recognised from the engagement party—over what sounded like an antagonistic relationship with a co-worker.
And if he’d thought she was attractive when her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed, it was nothing to how she looked with her mouth flung wide, her face flushed with joy.
It was, by all measures, a thoroughly pleasant evening. The kind of quiet fun Alex hadn’t had nearly enough of in recent years. His friends weren’t exactly the drinks in and board games sort. Or even the corner pub for a pint sort—which was apparently where they were headed to celebrate finishing the invitations.
As they sat nestled in a corner booth, he could envision himself making a home in the small group, the way his brother clearly had. Erik had invited him out with them a few times, but an excuse had always been too near at hand. A surplus of work or a friend’s art show or a need to visit the gym—even he admitted the last was flimsy—or anything else he could think of to avoid the absolutely exhausting exercise of simultaneously being the person the world wanted him to be, without making the two people who’d known him most of his life privy to too much of his bullshit.
But this was…fun. Feeling like he was part of something more substantial than a mess of flashing strobe lights and an aggressively loud beat.
Two whiskeys under the table, he was buzzed enough to find the balance, inserting himself into the conversation more. Making Sarah roll her eyes more. Her pretty, pretty eyes.
When she realised he craved those eyes on him enough to seek her attention no matter the reason, he was screwed.
And they landed on him again in a small, dim passage when she was entering the bathrooms as he left.
‘You know, when I suggested a repeat, I didn’t mean the circumstances had to be identical. But I’m good with this,’ he said, stepping towards her.
‘I thought you were getting another round of drinks,’ Sarah snapped.
‘Did you?’ Alex cocked his head to the side.
‘What are you doing here, Aleksander?’
He was tempted to draw attention to where they were. Instead, for once, he decided not to mess with her. ‘I’m enjoying drinks out with friends. Is that allowed?’
‘We’re not friends.’
‘You hating yourself for wanting to fuck me doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.’
‘I don’t want to—’
Sarah broke off abruptly as Alex stepped all the way into her space, crowding her into the wall. ‘So you weren’t ogling my chest, arms, legs, and back before breakfast yesterday?’ He’d felt her stare remain on him when he got up to refill her coffee.
‘If anything, I was wondering what tattooist let you walk out their studio looking like a five-year-old with a Sharpie just discovered a book of Norse runes.’ Sarah’s voice had a sharp bite to it.
Another lie. His artist’s work was immaculate, taking the harsh lines and turning them into romantic brush strokes reminiscent of a Master’s painting. But whether she’d intended it or not, her lie held a revelation: she had been looking. Intently. Even bare-chested, the narrow line of runes running down the side of his ribs and stomach—and disappearing under the waistband of his shorts—wouldn’t have been obvious, half hidden by his arm.
‘You can keep telling yourself there’s nothing here,’ Alex said, ‘or you can give in to it. I know which would be more fun.’
Her chest was heaving as she looked up at him, lips parted and pupils wide, and if she moved her head another inch towards his, he was going to kiss her.
She did move first, but faster than he’d expected. He didn’t get a chance to kiss her, because she was kissing him , red wine and sandalwood filling his senses. A second into it, his body caught up, pulling her against him.
Soft. It was the overwhelming thought in his brain while his hands roamed over her. She was soft and warm and made the prettiest little whimper when he scraped his teeth over her bottom lip.
She’d been wearing dark plum lipstick that first night. It had looked stunning, and he’d been imagining it smeared on other parts of his body ever since, but the taste had distracted him from something uniquely her that was making this kiss a particularly heady experience. The waxy texture had also covered up the bare silk of her lips, which suddenly felt like a crime.
He’d never cared much about the amount of makeup a woman wore. In fact, he was used to it being heavier rather than lighter, and he’d never minded it. But something about Sarah practically bare-faced—just mascara and a bit of colour on her cheeks—really worked for him. She looked hot as hell all made up, but there was a gentleness to her like this, with the soft fullness of her romantic features pulling focus.
Maybe it was just that she looked closer to his fantasy of waking up next to her.
Their gazes locked as she broke away from the kiss. A second later, she broke the eye contact too.
‘We can’t.’ Her voice was quiet.
‘We can .’
‘I have to—’ Then she shoved past him, using both hands to push open the door to the bathroom.
Alex stared after her for a few seconds, before going to order the drinks he’d promised to their table and making his excuses.
By the time he cast one final look around the pub on his way out, she still hadn’t returned.