Chapter 14 Jade
“Put your tits away. I’m coming in.”
Aanya barges in, as she always does whenever she feels the urge to come over, and finds me standing in my walk-in closet in only a bra and underwear.
She stops dead in her tracks, feigning a gunshot wound and slumping against the doorway. “I changed my mind. Don’t put ‘em away.” Aanya walks towards me, hands outstretched and eyes glued to my chest. “Fucking hell, girl.”
“You’re just as bad as a man.” I swat her hands away.
“Worse, to be sure.” Aanya backs up a couple steps and plops down on the floor, legs crossed.
“How was your gig last night?” I ask.
“Oh! Hold that thought.” My friend abruptly stands, leaves the room, and comes back ten seconds later with a bottle of wine, glasses, and…a jumbo pack of Maltesers I didn’t buy.
“Where did those come from?” My eyes narrow as she pops one in her mouth and resumes her spot on the floor.
“I stashed them here a week ago so I’d have a sweet snack when I come over.” She digs her hand in the pack, pulling out a few before tipping her head back and dropping them all in her mouth. “It’s seriously concerning you don’t like chocolates. That’s basically a crime against womanhood.”
“They’re too rich and stick to my mouth.” I turn, riffling through my clothes for the twentieth time in the past hour.
“Fuck me, and your bum? God really does have favorites, doesn’t She?”
I shoot her a wolfish grin. “Stop staring at my ass, pervert.”
“Then put on some clothes. And get that thing insured,” she says, pointing at my backside before whispering what I’m pretty sure is, I need to start going to Pilates.
There’s a black silk robe hanging on the back of the door. I grab it, slipping my arms through and tying it off around the waist.
A loud pop—the cork bursting from the bottle—sounds behind me, and a second later, Aanya is handing me a long stemmed glass with a large bowl full of pinot.
“So, the gig?” I prompt her again, crouching to sit in front of her in my closet.
A couple weeks ago, a manager expressed interest in her music, and, being as brazen as she is, Aanya didn’t hesitate to invite him to her next show.
That was last night, and I’ve been dying to know how it went.
The fact that I was stuck in meetings instead of being there for her grated on me, but knowing Myles attended eased my guilt a little.
The two have been inseparable since they met at the pub a couple weeks ago, spending every spare second of their time together.
She liked to come over after their dates and debrief me, in detail, before I told her she had to stop because he was technically my employee.
Aanya takes a long pull from her wine, and a lump forms in my throat at whatever she’s about to say that would require her to down half her glass in one go.
“Did the manager show?”
She nods her head slowly but doesn’t make eye contact. “He did.”
“And?” Long, painful silence is followed by more drinking. “Aanya Bhandari! Tell me what happened right now, or I’m changing the locks.”
Her hand full of chocolate covered malt balls halts its route to her mouth. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Then talk.” I invoke my best business deal look and level it at her.
“All that look is doing is turning me on.” She finally pops the sweet in her mouth, smiling wide and crinkling the skin around her brown eyes.
I grab one of them now and throw it, pelting her squarely in the forehead. “I’ll tell Myles your affections have changed and we’re running away together.”
“Don’t forget to tell Tieran too,” she teases.
My stomach flips a little at the mention of him, remembering in too-vivid detail his sweat-soaked skin as he ran across the pitch, the shift in his demeanor when Hughes said the thing that finally made him snap, his fist crunching against bone, intensity in his gaze as he stared at me while I cleaned his knuckles in my office.
None of it should affect me, but it was a scene that played on repeat for days. I couldn’t seem to escape it—or him.
There was something about Tieran that made me feel out of control, but somehow grounded at the same time.
Maybe I could chalk it up to the first time we met and how he was able to make me feel calm on a night where all I felt was uncertainty.
Maybe it’s his easy smile that irritates me to no end, or the way he’s respected my flimsy boundaries, or his willingness to go help my dad, and ask for nothing in return.
The man is a walking green flag, and he is absurdly sexy in a way that’s concerning to my own health.
No one should be that hot and that nice; something needs to be wrong with him.
Maybe he has a secret third nipple, or he’s really into crypto or something equally horrifying—taxidermy, maybe?
I’ll take anything at this point because I don’t trust myself around him anymore.
I can feel the professional barriers I erected the second I saw him in that conference room slipping away with every dimpled smile and easy conversation.
“The talent manager showed up,” Aanya says, blessedly breaking me out of my train of thought.
I sit up straight, grateful for the distraction. “Tell me more.”
“I have a meeting with him on Monday to sign a contract.”
All composure leaves the room, and I launch myself off the floor, throwing her down and squealing like a girl whose crush just asked her to prom.
“You bitch! You had me going for a while there. I’m so proud of you,” I say excitedly into her ear as she chuckles. I pull back slightly. “Don’t sign anything until my lawyer reads over that contract.”
She groans. “You just went boss bitch while you’re on top of me in a silk robe. I’m only so strong, and I have a penchant for kissing my friends after too much wine.”
“Think of Myles,” I chuckle, sitting up.
“He knows I’m an equal opportunity kind of gal. He’d understand.” She looks wistful. “He's actually kind of perfect, really.”
“Are you in love with the big blond rugby player?” I tease.
Her cheeks redden, and she quickly changes the subject. “So why are we in your wardrobe?”
I hesitate. “I was looking for an outfit for something, but I think I’m going to cancel.”
“What was it for?”
“Ummm.” I sip my wine, trying to come up with anything else to say. “Someone booked me a crochet workshop, but I don’t think I’m going to go.”
Aanya’s eyes narrow on me, all seeing. “You don’t have any other friends.”
“Rude.” I look anywhere but at her.
“Who booked the class Jade?”
I roll my eyes as if it’s not a big deal when I am, in fact, actively shitting myself. “You know who.”
Now she’s the one squealing. “Christ, why’s that so hot?”
“Don’t enable this!”
“I can’t help it. Much like me, I think he’s good for you. And you’re going to that workshop even if I have to drop you off and make sure you go inside.”
“It’s… I—I can’t go, Aanya. It’ll send the wrong message.”
“What, that you want to shag him? You already have, and I know you want to do it again.” She raises her brow, daring me to disagree.
“Go with me. You can be the buffer.”
“I’m no one’s third,” her words trail off as she thinks, “except for that one couple from Shoreditch, but that got messy quite quickly.”
“So that’s a no?”
“No can do, mate. I’ve got a date with Myles tonight, and I’m horny enough for him without you and Tieran’s forbidden pheromones intermingling.”
“He might not even come. The booking was just for me,” I point out as Aanya stands.
“He’ll be there.” She starts perusing the rows of clothes, all neutral tones. “Now—what outfit says I’m here because I want you to tie me up in knots?”
A second later, she’s chuckling as she dodges the shoe I send flying through the air.
The cobbled streets of Camden are packed as I dodge tourists and locals alike in search of my destination.
It takes passing rows of vibrant buildings with giant 3D objects protruding from them, grunge tattoo shops, and at least a dozen souvenir shops hocking Stay Calm and Carry On merch or masks with Prince William’s face on it before Get Knotty comes into focus.
It was almost easy to miss, with its demure sandwich board sign sitting on the sidewalk, showcasing a ball of yarn speared with two crochet needles crossed like swords, and an arrow pointing to the small set of stairs showing visitors to the basement level shop.
Every step is one step closer to an irreversible decision. With every thud down, my rational mind screams at me. Thud, turn around now. Thud, you’re being an idiot. Thud, it’s your funeral.
I push the hot pink door open, and a bell rings as the scent of patchouli and regret drifts out to meet me. The urge to cut and run before anyone notices me is strong, but before I can even consider leaving, a British Shorthair cat darts out of the crack I left in the entry.
“Fuck,” I say trying my best pspspspssps to call the feline back while it looks at me from the top step of the stairs, tail swishing patronizingly.
“Yarnold! For fuck’s sake, get back inside!”
I turn back around to find Lottie shaking a bag of treats. Yarnold trots gently back down the stairs, brushes against my legs, and slips back inside as if he didn’t just make my heart stop.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask, somewhat surprised to see her, even though she looks right at home in this neighborhood, in her lime green checkered pants and cropped band tee.
“Tieran didn’t tell you?” I shake my head.
Did he cancel on me and send his sister in his stead?
Admittedly, that would be the best outcome, but I can’t help but feel a kernel of disappointment.
I shove it away quickly. That’s exactly what I want to happen.
The more distance between us, the easier it will be to not get swept up in this off-limits attraction.
“I’m the instructor of the class! Let’s head in; we’re about to start. ”