Prologue #2
‘You’ve had a rough day. You came here to drown your sorrows, and I know something about that, so I humbly offer my services as your designated drinking buddy.’
His palm heated my entire arm and triggered a blush that made it all the way to my cheeks.
‘I don’t know you.’ I stated, common sense finally coming into play.
‘Not yet,’ He grinned, taking his hand away. The cold feeling he left behind made me want to draw closer to him.
‘You could be a serial killer.’ It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption.
He coughed lightly, thick brows shooting up. ‘Alright, didn’t expect you to go there.’ He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and slid a card towards me.
His drivers licence.
Aiden Parker. 32.
‘Keep that until you decide I’m not a serial killer.’ He said.
‘I didn’t actually think you were.’ I held the card out to him.
He held up a hand. ‘Keep it. Send a picture to a friend so they know who you’re with.’
That offer comforted me more than anything. I picked up my phone and snapped a picture. But as I took the photo, my stomach sank. I didn’t have anyone to send it to.
I closed the phone and placed the card on the counter between us.
‘Whaddya say? Want to find your drink of choice?’
Aiden’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the challenge. Hypnotic eyes that shone so brightly, they looked like they held their own constellations within their depths.
My goal in coming to the pub was to forget, and this guy was offering me a distraction. It was probably a terrible idea I’d regret for the rest of my life, but in my twenty years, I’d never made a single reckless decision. I had never stepped over the line, never thought about even toeing the line.
I took a deep breath, settling back down into the chair. ‘You’re on.’
An hour and a half later, my cheeks ached from smiling so much.
‘Okay, okay, that one wasn’t a good idea, trust me, this is the one.
’ Aiden declared, moving away the offending drink.
It tasted like cough medicine. The counter in front of us was littered with half-full glasses of cocktails that the bartender, Pete, made with a tired smile. His hopes for a quiet night, ruined.
‘That’s what you said about the last one.’ I grimaced at the taste of the last cocktail still in my mouth. ‘And all it’s got me is slightly nauseous.’
Aiden held up his hands in an apology. ‘I’ll admit the fries dipped in Pina Colada wasn’t a good call.’ He’d flashed his cheeky grin at me for the past hour, and I felt my stomach warm with every twitch of his lips.
We sat side by side, only a sliver of space between us.
Despite the various concoctions spread out on the bar, Aiden only let me have one or two sips of each.
I’d told him I was driving home, and he refused to let me get more than ‘cheerfully tipsy’ as he called it, hence why he kept ordering me food.
Bits and pieces of this beautiful stranger came out in our conversation.
He had a sister he loved and parents he hated.
At least, that was what I gathered from how his eyes darkened when I asked about his family.
I didn’t press him on the subject, and he offered me the same courtesy whenever I’d shy away from his questions.
He was about to start the process of opening up his own tattoo studio, and all the ink I could see was his own designs.
The more Aiden spoke, the more I never wanted him to stop.
Mostly, he had been making me laugh. Something I’d not done for a very long time.
Pete placed a glass filled with a bold red liquid in front of me.
‘Go on freckles. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.’ Aiden watched me closely as I raised the glass to my lips. The flavour burst on my tongue. Sweet and tangy, with the last few notes holding the bitterness of the alcohol.
My eyes must have betrayed my thoughts because Aiden’s eyes widened, a grin stretching across his face.
‘Knew it.’
‘We found it!’ I declared taking another long sip of the drink.
Aiden banged a fist on the table, making the glasses jump. ‘Vodka cranberry. Classy.’ He ran a hand through his hair, eyes roaming over me, wearing a look I didn't recognise.
I went in for another sip, but he wrapped a large hand around the glass.
‘Alright, sweetheart, I’m cutting you off.’
My lower lip dropped to a pout. ‘So you find me my favourite drink, and now you’re taking it away from me?’
A laugh rumbled through his chest. A shiver went down my spine in response.
He went to put the glass on the other side of him.
It may have been the alcohol currently zipping through my bloodstream giving me a new-found sense of confidence, but I reached across him to try and grab the delicious drink back.
I miscalculated my position on the stool and half my butt slid off the chair. I was a second away from toppling face first into Aiden’s lap when he gripped my arms, halting my fall.
‘Careful there, sweetheart.’ His grip on my arm was strong and unyielding. I wriggled back until I was safely situated again, but he didn’t relinquish his hold.
His eyes had me transfixed, studying the creases that surrounded them; lines from a life lived. And tattoos that made me want to sit down—like a kid in front of a painting—and explore every one of them. Asking for their stories; knowing I’d keep them tucked safely inside me forever.
It was then I realised he had moved closer.
Aiden loosened his hold on my arm, lifting it up to my cheek and trailing a finger down my skin, lighting it on fire. Whatever this feeling was that thumped heavy inside my body like a loud bass line… I didn’t want it to ever stop.
He watched every reaction he elicited from me. Every twitch of my features and every hitch of my breath. Eventually, he asked in a low voice. ‘How’s the forgetting going?’
The sudden change in topic cleared some of the fog from my head. I leaned back out of his touch, letting his hand fall away turning to face the counter. ‘I’ve not thought about life outside those doors since you joined me, so I’d say it’s going pretty well.’ I admitted.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
I flashed him a weak smile. ‘Since you’ve successfully found my signature drink, I think you’ve earned a question or two.’
‘How’d you get to twenty and never had a drink? It’s like a right of passage for most people when they’re sixteen or eighteen. Or, in my case, fourteen.’
‘Your first drink was at fourteen?’ I stared incredulously at him.
He smiled devilishly. ‘Behind the bike shed after school.’
‘I didn’t exactly grow up… normally.’
‘Cult?’ He smirked.
When I said nothing, he cleared his throat, the grin dropping. ‘Shit, I was joking. But, seriously, you were in a cult?’
I huffed out a laugh. ‘No. Not a cult. I just grew up in a very religious household.’
Aiden bobbed his head. ‘So you didn’t have the standard teenage experience of first kisses behind the school and losing your virginity in the backseat of a car.’
I smothered my initial reaction to hearing him talk so casually about sex. I shifted in my seat. ‘No. I never even learned to curse properly.’
He barked out a laugh. ‘Uh, it’s not something you learn, freckles.’ My heart continued its somersaults at the nickname he’d bestowed on me.
‘I know, but since I never grew up around it, I never used it. If I were to say arse, or bugger, or even God forbid, I’d be in for a lecture. Good Christian girls don’t use that sort of language.’ My tone was light, but a touch of bitterness wrapped itself around my words.
Aiden scoffed. ‘Guarantee that most Christians are a lot more fucked up then they let on.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ I mused, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
Aiden took a casual sip, his eyes trained on me. When his tongue darted out to wet his lips, my eyes darted down to focus on the movement. My stomach clenched.
‘You don’t know how fucking beautiful you are, do you?’ He asked as a look I couldn’t decipher passed over his eyes once more.
‘Closing up folks.’ Pete called out from the other end of the bar. Saving me from having to reply to that question.
A few customers rose from their chairs and started wandering out of the pub. My stomach dropped. I’d been so caught up in the last few hours, the entire reason I’d come to the pub in the first place popped up like a cruel jack in the box.
I screwed my eyes shut, a soft tug of pain pulling at my heart.
A hand came to rest on my thigh. ‘Freckles?’ Came Aiden’s concerned voice.
I slowly opened my eyes and stared at him.
‘Thank you.’ My voice cracked.
He’d taken me away from everything. He’d given me what no one in my life had been able to; peace.
His brows drew together, closing the distance between us, he lifted a hand to cup my cheek. I knew I shouldn’t for a million reasons, but I desperately wanted someone to comfort me. I took the affection this man offered and leaned into the touch.
‘I don’t like whatever you’re thinking about.’ He murmured. The grip on my head tightened a fraction.
Our faces were only inches apart. Close enough that I could see flecks of white scar tissue dotted around his face. Small cuts that looked like paint splatters. I wanted to reach out and touch them. Stroke each one and ask how he got them, if only to listen to his deep gravelly voice talk.
His eyes turned stormy.
‘What are you thinking about?’ I whispered, tilting my head to the side.
Aiden let his hand travel to the back of my neck. I felt his breath fan across my cheek as he spoke. ‘I’m thinking… I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who intrigues me more than you do. I’m thinking… I really want to kiss you, touch you, and watch you come undone under my fingers.’
His words should have shocked me. They were crass and highly inappropriate. But instead, my entire body quivered. My inexperience didn’t matter because I knew what I needed. I needed to be touched.
Aiden kneaded the back of my neck and my eyes shuttered closed. ‘I want you to put your hands on me.’ I choked back a surprised gasp as those words escaped from my lips.
A low growl escaped him as he leaned forward and pressed his nose to my neck, taking a deep breath like he was soaking up my scent. His lips pressed to the sensitive skin, the place where he touched burning.
Harry. Mum. Dad.
Like a bucket of cold water, the flames Aiden had stirred inside me winked out. He must have felt my body tense under his touch because he pulled away, his eyes turning more black than blue.
Whatever he saw on my face softened his expression.
‘It’s okay, freckles. You’re not in the right headspace.
’ He dragged his hand away from my neck, trailing a finger down my cheek and pressing the pad of his thumb to the tip of my nose.
‘It’s gonna be fucking torture not finding out how you taste.
’ His words, whilst so alien to me, felt natural coming from him and they stirred something within me.
‘I have a bizarre life.’ I whispered. Afraid to speak too loudly in case it broke the bubble we were in.
Our knees were still touching. I felt the sigh he heaved all the way down to my toes. My voice caught as I tried to explain, ‘You have no idea how much—’
Aiden shook his head, telling me there was no need to explain.
‘Give me your phone.’ He said, pulling back and holding out his hand.
I shot him a confused glance but reached for it anyway. He took it and began typing something. ‘You’ve got my number.’ He passed the phone back, and I stared at the digits filling the screen.
‘You ever want to finish that sentence or ask me what I’m thinking again’—he tapped the phone—‘you call me.’
I knew as I pocketed the device that his number would stay on my phone forever. Untouched. But I nodded all the same. This evening had been a fantasy—a delicious soul-comforting one—but a fantasy nonetheless.
I stood up and he followed suit, towering above me.
‘Before you go,’ He rasped.
My eyes widened as he threaded a hand around the back of my neck again, pulling me flush against him.
Chest to chest. His scent engulfed me and made me dizzy.
I saw his lips draw close, hating the part of me that wanted him to place them on mine.
Then, just as I thought he would kiss me, he turned at the last second and placed a painfully soft kiss on my jaw, leading up to my ear.
A soft whimper fled my lips. My knees nearly buckled. If his arm wasn’t holding me tightly, I’d have crumpled to the floor.
He groaned softly as he trailed a kiss up to my earlobe. Softly in my ear, he whispered, ‘Don’t think I’m gonna forget you sweetheart.’
‘Poppy,’ I breathed, ‘My name's Poppy.’ In the small revelations we’d shared that night, I realised I'd forgotten that small detail.
He drew back a little so he could peer into my eyes.
I felt wrecked. My breathing laboured, and the spot between my thighs ached. Ached like it never had before.
‘I can guarantee I'll never forget you.’ I panted, placing a hand on his firm chest.
Knowing I was only seconds away from begging this man to kiss me, I leant back. His arms left me instantly. Pete was putting all the chairs on top of tables loudly enough to be considered a hint.
‘Bye, freckles’
I stumbled back to the front door, flashing a grateful smile at Pete, who just jutted his chin in acknowledgment.
At the door, I turned and took one last look at him, leaning casually against the bar.
His posture was so at odds with the intensity of his gaze as he stared back at me.
I etched his image on my brain before dashing out into the night.