Chapter 8 #2
It is the truth, or some of it anyway. I’m not about to tell her I spent all night in that bar looking for her over the crowd just to get a glimpse of her face.
When I did spot her, her head was thrown back in laughter at something her friend had said and it was the most perfect sight I have ever laid eyes on.
I’d do anything to make her laugh like that.
I’m not going to tell her once I noticed her table was empty, I left my oldest friend’s stag do to see if she had got into a taxi safe or if she was heading to another bar.
I’m not going to tell her about the sheer amount of willpower it took to wait until this morning to check on her and not drive straight over here last night after losing her in the crowd outside.
Because all of those thoughts are irrational and make no sense for me to have over a woman I am merely lusting over.
“Oh.” She takes a step back and looks at me sceptically, I already loathe the space between us. “Why?” she asks. And isn't that the million-dollar question.
“I answered yours, now you answer mine, please,” I reply as a way of avoiding the embarrassing truth of the situation.
She looks up at me sheepishly as if embarrassed, “Well I, um…” she starts and is cut off by large hand on her shoulder gently pushing her aside.
She stumbles slightly but quickly recovers and moves out of the way and I get a glimpse of the guy.
Red clouds my vision and I feel my blood boil as I take him in.
Brown hair, shorter than me but taller than her, in smart-casual attire that one would wear out to the club, like last night, like that’s where they met.
My heart is going to beat itself out my chest. I feel myself start to shake as adrenaline courses through my body.
I’ve only ever felt like this once before, about twelve years ago when the prick that tripped me, causing me to have to sit out for the rest of the game, got scouted and signed for Chelsea’s under twenty-ones team.
Jealousy, that’s what this is. An insane amount of jealousy. I’ve never felt it over a woman before.
“Thanks for the coffee, Emily. See you around,” this prick says as he leaves her front door and gets into the Uber that had parked up outside Emily’s house without either of us noticing.
I track his every step, making sure he has left before I turn back to Emily.
I know my face must be displaying the anger I feel because upon seeing it, her own face drops in shame, or guilt? I can’t tell.
“Who the fuck is that?” I ask, attempting to be calm, but it comes out as a growl.
She lifts a hand to where her hair would sit on her shoulders, as if to nervously fiddle with it, but quickly drops it when she remembers her hair is still in the towel.
Her eyes drop to the floor and she mumbles, “I, um, honestly I can’t remember.
” Yes, that's definitely shame she is trying to hide, “But he’s the one I thought might have forgotten something.”
“If he took advantage of you…” I start, balling my fists.
“Oh no, oh my god! No!” Her head shoots up, a grin that feels highly inappropriate plastered on her face.
“He wasn’t here with me,” she laughs. “My friend stayed over and brought him back, I just can’t remember his name and feel awful.
We had a whole conversation before; I must have been so wasted last night.
I never get like that.” She stumbles across her explanation as if she’s embarrassed at how drunk she was last night.
I almost collapse in relief, she must see this on my face because she asks, “Why would it matter if I’d brought him home?
” She crosses her arms across her chest which, thanks to the way her towel is placed, it pushes her tits up, making them look mouthwatering.
The sight makes me feral and I have to peel my eyes away to look into hers.
Such a fucking gentleman. “Because, Emily, last night you told me you were looking to get laid, and you asked me to be the one to help you out. I thought better of it because of how drunk you were. I would be very pissed off to find out I had been a noble for the first time in my life, and you had still gone home with someone anyway.”
Her eyes flare in shock, “I told you I wanted to get laid last night?” she whispers.
I lean in closer so she can feel my breath on her neck, “You all but begged me to take you home. Saying no when you looked like you did… Well, it almost killed me.” She visually gulps at my pledge and it spurs me on further, “Trust me when I say, if you had brought me home, you wouldn’t be walking this early in the morning. ”
A flush has worked its way onto her chest. Her standing here, in her towel, flushed from just my words is one of the sexiest things I have ever seen.
I feel that pull again, the same one I felt in the first aid room the other week.
She must feel it too because she leans towards me.
From where she is on the step to her house, we are almost eye to eye.
Her breath skitters over my lips and if I just tilt my head an inch, I could kiss her.
My eyes drop to her plump, pink mouth. I bet her lips are soft.
I must have given away my intention when my gaze snapped to her mouth, because she flicks her tongue across her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth.
When it pops back out it is wet and shining.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
A door slams behind her in the house, snapping us out of the moment. “What the fuck are you doing here, Jack?” She almost shouts as she steps back and puts space between us.
Remind me to find out who her cock blocking friend is.
“I told you, I would show up here if you didn’t let me know you were home safe.” I plaster on one of my fake showy grins, teasing her, to try and cover up the fact that I am wound up to boiling point right now.
“What? When?” Her eyes widen and I watch as the memory of our conversation last night must replay for her, it seems to make even more pink flush her cheeks. She must be remembering the feel of her body against mine. I know I can’t fucking get it out of my head.
I take a step back, giving her space to sort through her mind. “I mean, if you’d have used my number, I could have just called you and made sure you were back, but you didn’t. So here I am, and now I know.” I wink at her.
She glares at me, a small crease between her brows. Her arms are crossed over that magnificent chest, making it almost impossible for me think straight. Time to go whilst I can still physically pull myself away.
I am fully expecting this to be another interaction where I, once again, get rejected by this woman. I reach my car and unlock the door before she responds, “Jack.”
“Yes.” I stare back at her, one hand on my car door, waiting, hopeful. Hopeful for what, I don’t know.
“Thanks for checking on me,” she says with a small smile on her lips.
I nod and get into my car. I’m not even at the end of the road when a text from an unknown number pops up on my phone. I ask my hands free to read it out: ‘Don’t waste petrol, it’s a finite resource, just call. Em.’
I don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.