Chapter 19
Her eyes were as big as saucers. Body frozen in place as she stared at me through the window.
Rain came down in a constant shower, saturating my definitely not waterproof coat.
It was the first one on the rack that I grabbed when I left my flat.
Too focused on getting here, I didn’t even remember to bring an umbrella.
She still didn’t move. Wide eyes locked on mine. Lifting the bag I was holding, I pointed to the door handle, making an unlocking motion.
This seemed to pull her out of her stupor. She darted to the door, pressing a series of numbers on the keypad. After a few seconds, the door clicked, and she flung it open.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ She rearmed the alarm once I’d ducked inside, stamping my feet on the mat so I didn’t trample dirt in.
A faint aroma of disinfectant lingered in the air. My hair was sodden; I ran my fingers through the strands to dispel some of the water.
‘You said you hadn’t eaten.’
Rosie’s arms were folded over her chest, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. It wasn’t an unfair assumption. When it came to this girl, I had most definitely lost my fucking mind.
I held up the bag of food. ‘Dinner.’
Her gaze bounced from the bag of food to my face. That’s when I saw her expression shift from disbelief to distrust.
‘Why?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t have to do that. I never asked you to do that.’
Why was every nice thing I tried to do for her met with sharp suspicion? Any good deed couldn’t be done without an agenda. What kind of men had she been around that this was how she reacted to me bringing her dinner?
Swallowing down a weighty sigh, I placed the food on the desk nearby, and closed the distance, lifting my hands to cradle her flushed cheeks.
She didn’t pull away, and I took that as an inch in the right direction.
The grey scrubs she wore hung loosely on her body, her face devoid of all makeup. She was stunning.
‘Would you be bothered if Fallon dropped food off for you?’
The wheels in her head spun so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised to see steam coming out of her ears.
‘It’s different.’ She didn’t uncross her arms. The tension locking her body up tight.
‘Why is it different?’ I knew the answer, and the way she looked at me told me I was right.
It was different because I was a guy. Whatever fucked up experiences she’d had told her that men didn’t do things to be nice or sweet.
Only when they wanted something. And she was right.
I did want something, and partly my desire was selfish.
I wanted to spend time with her. Be in her presence and watch that icy exterior melt away. Even if it was only for a moment.
‘It’s just food, sweetheart.’ When the trepidation in her gaze didn’t diminish, I added, ‘And coffee.’
An almost imperceptible softening of her features happened at that magical word. The same thing happened when she ordered tequila.
That fucking bottom lip drew into her mouth. ‘You brought me coffee?’
I thumbed the smooth skin of her cheek, humming in the back of my throat. ‘Black… like your soul.’
After a beat of tension-filled silence, her head tipped back as a melodic chuckle erupted from her throat.
‘Glad to see you’re getting to know me.’ I tamped down my reaction to hearing that sweetness filter out of her.
The noise that clutched hold of my lungs and dick and squeezed hard.
So far, I didn’t feel like I was getting to know her at all.
As far as Rosie was concerned, I’d barely scratched the surface.
‘You’re saying your sweet, kind father was lying?’ Rosie quirked a brow, humour lacing her tone. She pushed the empty container of food away from her and leaned back.
We were sitting in office chairs in a small kitchen that smelt strongly of disinfectant and stale coffee.
Every fifteen minutes or so, she would get up to check on the animals, and make sure everything was okay before settling back down.
After I’d presented her with food and coffee, and we’d got stuck in, the tautness in her shoulders dissipated.
For the past hour, we’d been talking. Comparing bands—I did my best not to hold her preference of U2 over Queen against her—talking about our favourite restaurants in London and dealing with her persistent questions about my dad.
One lunch and the two had become thick as thieves.
My forgetting the original date I had planned turned out to be a good thing.
Throughout the entire meal, I was forced to listen to dad tell countless stories about my younger years.
Very few put me in a flattering light. Seeing her eyes light up when he divulged more stories and secrets made the embarrassment worth it.
‘I’m saying he was exaggerating,’ I clarified.
‘So, you didn’t wear your mum’s bra and dance to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?’ She grinned, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her palms.
Pushing my empty dinner container off to the side, I mimicked her movements, sighing. ‘No.’
Her lower lip dropped to a pout.
Looking over my shoulder, as if to check no one else was around to overhear, I dropped my voice to a whisper, ‘It was ‘Like A Virgin’ by Madonna.’
Her hands thrust up into the air in triumph. ‘Ha!’
I got a strong whiff of her perfume and leaned back in my chair, silently begging my cock to calm the fuck down. The more she smiled, the freer her laughs became, the harder it was to remember that all of this wasn’t real.
Lessons. Fake. I needed it tattooed on my fucking eyelids, so I stopped letting my heart churn itself into knots with one smile.
‘And Dad still wonders how he didn’t realise I was bi.’ I shook my head, taking a sip of one of the soda cans she found in the staff fridge. Her coffee quickly disappeared when we sat down.
‘When did you know?’ She leaned back in the plastic chair, eyeing me curiously.
‘Seven,' I said, ‘at least, that’s when I learnt the word for it. I was watching TV and someone said it. My dad sat next to me reading the paper, and I turned to him saying, ‘bi means you like boys and girls. So that makes me bi then.’
A fond smile twitched at Rosie’s lips. ‘What did he say?’
‘He looked up from his paper with wide eyes and said, ‘yes, I suppose it does, son’. And went back to reading. Since then, whenever I’d talk about my crushes at school, he’d ask if there were any boys or girls I liked. He and mum just…accepted it.’
‘You’re lucky.’ An emotion I couldn’t pinpoint coated those words as she spoke.
I nodded firmly. ‘I am.’
I’d been really lucky. Countless stories of people coming out didn’t go as smoothly as mine. It’s a privilege I’d always been grateful for.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. ‘So, come on, you now know several of my embarrassing stories. Let’s even the playing field. You must have a few embarrassing stories from your childhood.’
Her back stiffened. The change happened so quickly, it caught me off guard. ‘No. I don’t.’
Knowing I needed to tread carefully, and simultaneously eager to know more about this woman, I poked the hornet's nest. ‘I’ve met your mum, but you never mention your dad.’
The ice in her glare could have frozen an entire planet. Blue eyes that had been all ease and happiness moments before went blank.
‘No,’ she repeated, her voice dead. ‘I don’t.’
The casual atmosphere was gone. It was on the tip of my tongue to probe more when she levelled an accusing glare at me.
‘You didn’t tell Oliver we were…’ she trailed off, waving a finger between the two of us. That single motion meant to encompass so much.
Internally, I winced. The guilt had been eating at me for the past few weeks. I swiped a hand down my jaw with a casual shrug. ‘What’s there to tell?’
The second those words left my mouth, I regretted them. Rosie kept her cards close to her chest, letting nothing slip. It’s why her giving away her smiles and laughter so freely felt momentous somehow.
‘You tell him everything,’ she challenged.
That used to be true. Since we were little kids, we’d been glued together. I knew far too much about his life, all the dirty details of his last disastrous relationship. He shared it all. I used to do the same.
‘Not everything.’ My lips lifted in a wan smile.
Some of the tightness eased, and she edged forward, folding her arms over her chest and leaning them on the table. ‘We don’t have to continue this,’ she said.
Not expecting that, I frowned. ‘You don’t want to?’
‘I don’t want…’ I gave her a minute to find her words. ‘This feels… fuck.’ She lifted two hands in the air, letting them fall back to her lap with a sigh. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying.’
‘I know,’ I breathed.
Her eyes locked with mine, lips flattening as she tried to keep at bay all the nonsensical emotions currently wreaking havoc in her body. Whatever this was, that ethereal inexplicable something hovering between us, whatever you called that, it was big. Momentous.
And it felt fucking terrifying.
I’d done this before. Given my heart away, planned a future with someone, and it crumpled quicker than I could blink.
‘What lesson are you calling this?’ She jutted her chin at the empty food containers on the table. ‘The first one was small talk, the second was flirting over text. What’s this one?’
The lessons. Right. Clearing my throat, I sat back. The arm of the chair poked me uncomfortably in the ribs. My thighs too fucking big to be squashed into the seat.
‘This, uh, lesson…’
If it wasn’t clear before that I was pulling these out of my arse, it was now. The amusement she was trying to cover up with a bite of her bottom lip told me she saw through my bullshit.
‘Accepting a nice gesture,’ I said with resolve.
Her mouth dropped open. ‘I can accept nice gestures from people.’
‘Uh-huh, sure you can.’
‘Hey, I can. You’re sitting here, aren’t you?’ She sniffed, crossing her arms.
‘And I’m yet to hear a thank you for the delicious lasagne I made from scratch.’
Her features shifted to a mask of indifference as she lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug. ‘It was okay.’
‘Okay?’ I barked. An insult to my cooking shot straight to my heart. ‘That was one of the best goddamn lasagnes I’ve ever made, woman.’
Her head tilted back. A laugh that sounded like sunshine rippling through the air.
‘Fine.’ She held up her hands in defeat. ‘It was pretty good.’
It was incredible. But I got the sense that pretty good was all the compliment she was going to give me. I took it with a playful glower.
She held my gaze, and the humour flickered out of those aqua eyes, replaced by a different spark.
The air between us pulled taut. Suddenly, the table separating us felt like an ocean.
I wanted to haul her out of the chair and satisfy the desire burning in her eyes, desire that thrummed through my veins.
A sharp yap cut through the air, snapping the cord on the intense eye-fucking taking place. Rosie moved from her seat and started gathering all the plastic containers, throwing them in the bin in the corner of the room.
‘So, I guess we’re counting this as date number two?’ Her back was facing me as she washed her hands in the sink. The high-pitched quality to her voice unnatural and wholly un-Rosie like.
I waited for her to turn around. When she did, her face was a mask of indifference—I hated how much it hurt.
‘Any reason we wouldn’t?’ I smiled ruefully. Wanting to hear words I knew she’d never say.
After a beat, her lips stretched into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘None that I can think of.’