Chapter 10 #2
I hesitated for a second before turning the question back on her. ‘Your phobia of needles is really that bad?’
A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. Her eyes dropped to the bar top, where her fingers toyed with the mat under her drink. I wanted her eyes back, wanted those electric blues to snap back to mine.
Rosie might be good at fooling the rest of the world that she has her shit together.
Her confidence is the kind that fills an entire room.
It lights up places like sunlight piercing through dark clouds, and you could be forgiven for assuming that’s all she is.
But all it takes is one look into her eyes, and you see that facade for what it is: a shield.
‘It’s improved over the years, especially with my job.
I had to get used to needles. And if I’m administering them to an animal, I’m okay, but if one comes anywhere near me…
’ She suppressed a violent shudder. ‘Yeah, it’s an irrational fear I’ve always had, I guess.
’ Finally, her head tilted to look at me.
‘Come on, I’m not going to be the only one spilling my guts. Tell me an irrational fear you have.’
I shook my head. ‘Absolutely not.’
Her mouth opened in surprise. ‘Oh, that means it’s good.’ She leaned forward so her face was barely a foot from mine. Fuck. She smelled like heaven. ‘Tell me, please? I won’t hold it against you.’ She held up her hand, pinky extended.
I glanced from her proffered little finger to her face. Memories of that night were spinning to the forefront of my brain. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who remembered.
Ignoring the cyclone swirling in my stomach, I arched a brow. ‘You promise?’
Head bobbing furiously, she grinned. And hell if it wasn’t the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. I made a show of debating it for all of two seconds before my pinky curled around hers and squeezed.
Bending my head down, any excuse to inhale her vanilla scent, I whispered in her ear, fingers still interlocked. ‘I’m afraid of clowns.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Like circus clowns or IT the movie kind of clowns?’
‘All of them.’ A small laugh bubbled up her throat when she saw me grimace.
I really fucking hated clowns. Oliver teased me growing up because my fear came out of nowhere.
We never even went to a circus growing up, and I didn’t watch horror movies until I was in my twenties.
I wouldn’t call it a fear so much as a strong aversion.
‘Wow, so the great George Blake does have a weakness.’ Her laugh was like sunlight.
I stared at her, feeling her finger still tangled with mine. She hadn’t pulled away, and I wasn’t about to be the first person to break the connection.
‘Sweetheart, you have no idea.’
Energy sparked between us once more. Her smile went stiff, and she tugged her hand away, reaching to grab the rest of her drink. I clocked how her hand trembled subtly as she placed the glass down.
I turned the conversation back to her current predicament.
‘Are you admitting defeat after one date? You’re not usually one to give up.’
Her laugh was humourless. ‘Then I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.’
I didn’t say anything. Simply sat and watched her eyes shift through various hues as she tried and failed to stop herself from blurting out the truth.
‘I don’t know how to date, okay?’ She exhaled like the words carried a heavy weight, shoulders slumping.
‘I suck at it. Talking, getting to know someone, and having them ask questions about me… I can’t do it.
That was the first date I’ve ever been on, and it royally sucked, and I’m willing to take about forty per cent of the blame for it being shit.
The cricket thing really crushed the mood.
’ She straightened up in her seat. ‘So, I’m going to get used to the fact that I’m going to be getting a cartoon character indelibly inked on my body in an undisclosed location.
That’s fine. Totally fine, it’s all completely and utterly fine. ’
‘Hang on a sec.’ I leaned forward, holding up a finger to stem the flow of words. My brain was locked onto one piece of information in her whole diatribe. ‘That was your first date?’
The expression on her face told me she hadn’t realised that nugget of information had slipped out. ‘I, uh—’ She looked everywhere but at me. ‘Well, it depends on what you classify as a date, really; I mean—’
Getting the feeling she was gearing up for another verbal onslaught and having had enough of the distance between us, I reached down to the legs of her stool and yanked it so her knees interlocked with mine. She was close enough that I could hear a barely audible gasp escape her parted lips.
Giving up on keeping my restraint under tight control, I placed a hand on her thigh. When her head darted down to see where I gripped her, I lifted her chin with my other hand.
‘Sweetheart, was that your first date?’ No judgement laced my tone, just genuine curiosity.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. ‘That depends.’
‘On?’
‘How you’re defining “date”.’
‘Food. Drinks. Something planned in advance. Flirting and perhaps a goodnight kiss.’
Her brow creased. ‘Ah, in that case, yes. It was my first date. And my last.’
Why did hearing that make the devil on my shoulder shake in anger? Not anger at her, never at her. But at every guy she’d met who didn’t offer to take her out for dinner before he tried getting into her pants. Knowing Rosie, she would have walked away even if they offered.
A plan began to formulate in my head. A reckless, insane, utterly stupid plan that rivalled the time when I was six years old and became determined that I was going to go on a talent show and make it big as a rockstar.
Forgetting that I’m tone deaf and the only talent I possess is my ability to keep an Orchid alive.
It was preposterous.
Swallow it down. Get up and leave. The angel on my other shoulder was waving a red flag, flagging down this train of thought and stomping its foot in frustration.
Then she looked at me. And everything went quiet. The noise fell to a distant hum, and the argument taking place in my mind went mute.
The dejection on her beautiful face was more than I could take.
‘Date me,' I blurted.
She blinked. As surprised as I was at the words coming out of my mouth.
‘Excuse me?’ she drawled.
Well, you’re in it now. Might as well go for gold. I dipped my head, showing her I wasn’t bullshitting.
‘Date me. I’ll help you win the bet. You won’t have to trawl through dating apps and potentially go to jail for tossing guys out of windows.’
‘You’re not serious.’ Her eyes darted all over my face, waiting for the punchline.
The gotcha that told her I was kidding. When the silence stretched out between us, her mouth dropped open.
‘Oh God, you are serious, aren’t you?’ She shifted out of my hold, shaking her head. ‘George, I can’t date you.’
Those words pelted me harder than they should have.
‘Why not? It’s not like it would be real.’ Those words tasted like acid, but they made the scepticism on Rosie’s face soften.
‘Okay, say I agree, which I’m not,’ she hurried to add. ‘Why would you even want to do this?’
Because I’d get to spend time with you.
No. Those feelings needed to stay locked away in a dark corner, never to see the light of day.
‘I can’t want to help a friend when there is a high probability of them getting a Disney character permanently inked into their skin?’ When she didn’t look convinced, I added, ‘Look, you don’t know how to date.’
‘Thank you, Captain Obvious.’
Ignoring her snark and how much I loved it, I continued. ‘I do know how to date. Let me show you.’
Still not convinced, she said, ‘You want to teach me how to date?’
‘It would prove Fallon wrong on multiple levels. You can connect with someone and hold down a relationship without sex being involved.’ That statement had the wheels in her head turning.
She toyed with her bottom lip. ‘This is insane. You’re insane.’
‘Only on Tuesdays,’ I deadpanned.
She paused, then burst out laughing. Hearing that sound made all the rationale for not doing this fade further into the background.
‘Well?’
Her silence had my heart slamming against my chest. When her eyes peered up at me through thick lashes, and her lips parted, it nearly stopped beating.