17. Present Day – Boxing Day
17
PRESENT DAY – BOXING DAY
SCOTT
O pening The Bull today had been my only salvation from the stream of intrusive thoughts about Josie. She’s been on my mind ever since I told her we could only be friends, well before that really. But since Christmas Eve? I don’t think I’ve gone more than two minutes without thinking about her.
Yesterday was almost interminable.
At least Nate came over for a few hours. Christmas lunch was a non-event. I had no appetite, and Nate was clearly itching to get to Ella because apparently they are inseparable. Although, he’s always hated this apartment anyway for being too sterile . I tell him I like it uncluttered, but the truth is, I can’t seem to justify doing anything homey to it.
So, my Christmas day was spent watching Die Hard and Gremlins — the most festive films I could stomach — and fielding calls from mum wishing me a “Feliz Navidad” in her beginner’s Spanish. I respect that she’s doing her best to learn the local lingo since they moved out there; it’s a brave move. Our parents decided to stay in Spain for Christmas this year, rather than coming back to England, but Mum’s still worrying about us from afar. Well, worrying about Nate, and grilling me as to whether he really is okay now. A couple of years ago, it would have been hard to believe that he had good, solid, friends, a nice place to live, a steady job and a wonderful girlfriend. But that he does.
I’m happy for the little shit.
Glancing around the now empty pub at the chairs stacked on the polished tables, I pinch my nose and try not to remember Josie in here. I know I should get her out of my head. I know it. But it’s impossible. Both the bar and my flat are haunted by memories of her.
That first time I saw her here, leaning on the bar in a green dress that had stretched across her curves in all the right ways, she’d almost brought me to my knees. I snort and shake my head as if to loosen the memory of how furious I’d been to see Nate with her then. I hadn’t realised that he’d only had eyes for her friend, Ella, at the time. The green monster living in my chest had roared at the sight of my baby brother, the town lothario, sitting quite so close. As if she had been mine.
That evening last November had been chaos. The Bull had been hosting a pub quiz and it was well over halfway through the rounds before I’d realised she was here; the glass washer had broken somehow, seeping water onto the floor; the mic for the quiz master wasn’t working properly; and there’d been a fault with the lines. The list of disasters was endless, but when I finally spotted her, my angel, she’d taken my breath away.
I hadn’t known her name then. I absolutely hadn’t known who she was — the woman who’d been playing on my mind night and day. All I knew was a couple of encounters — both too brief to satisfy my craving to find out more about her — and the echo of advice from Ash to loosen up and have fun, had meant that I wanted, no, needed, more of her.
Of course, I’d fucked things on Bonfire night with a barely comprehensible request that she come and find me. My brain had been too addled with her taste. My craving for her had warred with the suffocating guilt for abandoning my colleague when I’d charged into the crowd to track her down.
I’d hoped she’d find me at the pub, but after what I’d done, I didn’t truly believe I deserved it.
My neck prickles with heat at the memory.
‘Found you,’ she’d said when she approached me in the corridor of The Bull that night.
Like she’d just won at a simple game of hide and seek.
Like no time had passed since Halloween, and like I hadn’t been thinking about her every second. Thinking about that one night at the play party. How I’d only just started playing with her.
The phrase coming, ready or not , tripped out through my brain as I remembered what she looked like when I’d unravelled her.
That fucking green dress hugged every inch of her perfect body as she sauntered towards me. And recalling what was underneath it has me as rock hard now as it did then.
She’d caught me in the deserted back area, a passageway to the restrooms and store cupboard. Echoes of clinking glasses and noisy punters were muffled in the air, quietened even further as my focus zeroed in on her.
‘You like to play games, don’t you?’ I’d flirted, my chest light and airy inside.
I rub at it, now heavy and aching. She’d moved closer to me, cocking an eyebrow, and virtually purred, ‘I think you like playing, too.’
If only she’d have known the games I’d been imagining with her, maybe she’d have stayed away. Her little Trick or Treat performance had been running through my mind on repeat.
She’d leant her shoulder against the wall, ran her eyes over me, and fingered her bright red hair.
‘What’s my prize?’ she’d drawled. ‘Seeing as I managed to track you down.’
I’d rolled my lips together and enjoyed the way her breath had hitched at that.
‘Another game?’ I’d have played whatever she wanted. ‘Your choice.’
‘Truth or dare,’ she’d said, her beautiful aqua eyes widening like it was a challenge. ‘I’ll go first. I’ll take a truth.’
I could have asked her anything, but there was one thing that had been killing me. I’d been lusting after someone I hadn’t even known the name of. Fuck , I’d dined out on someone I hadn’t even known the name of.
‘What's your name?’ I’d tried to say it coolly, not giving away how desperate I was for any morsel of information about her. If only I’d have asked for her whole name right then, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess. Then I’d have known who she really was.
All fucking woman, Josie had changed beyond recognition. Before the play party, the last time I’d seen her was at Marcus's funeral. Back then, she’d been fourteen — all frizzy hair and teeth. Nothing at all like the curvy Angel who swooped into my life seven weeks ago.
‘We don’t have to be anonymous anymore?’ Her eyes had sparkled.
‘I think the boat sailed on that one.’
She gave me a slow blink and then said, ‘Josie.’ Her voice was smoky and did things to my insides.
‘Does that mean I shouldn’t call you Angel anymore?’
‘Whatever fits.’ She’d looked away and then back to me, eyes burning brightly. ‘Truth or dare?’
I’d chosen truth, too, and she’d grinned at me. ‘What’s your name?’
I‘d stepped closer as I told her, resting my hand on the wall above her head to stop myself from mauling her right in the middle of the corridor.
‘Scott,’ she’d repeated, rolling my name around her tongue, big blues gazing up at me.
‘My turn to ask again,’ I’d ground out, trying to ignore the heat radiating from her, ignore the sound of the tiny breaths she was taking. ‘Truth or dare?’
She’d straightened up, as if girding herself for a challenge. ‘Dare.’
I’d smirked then, barely able to believe how this was playing out in my favour.
Leaning forwards, I’d whispered into her ear, ‘I dare you to stay and help me close up .’
The thought grounds me back in the present. Closing up. I’m supposed to be closing up right now.
With a sigh, I straighten up the last few bits behind the bar. Taking a fresh cloth, I give the counter one last wipe, focusing on buffing the glossy surface.
I pause when I reach the faulty mixer tap. Fresh memories of that night flood back.
We were alone in the bar. Enzo had left and I’d locked up behind him.
‘ So , what can I do?’ she’d asked as I pulled the heavy curtain across the door.
‘I got Enzo to help with most of it,’ I’d replied. ‘Just gonna lift these stools up and I’m done. You can help yourself to a drink, if you want.’
‘You trying to get me drunk?’
‘No.’ Honestly I wasn’t. ‘We have soft drinks, too, you know.’ I’d dropped my voice, cocking my eyebrow. I prefer a woman to be sober so she can properly consent. ‘Help yourself.’
She’d giggled as she rounded the bar. I’d watched her take in the optics, studying it all with fresh eyes. I’d had to look away as she ran her finger up the condensation that had gathered on the cold beer pump, knowing I’d abandon the rest of the locking up duties if I’d watched a moment longer.
As I’d flipped the remaining stools and chairs onto the table tops, there had been a squeal of excitement from behind the bar.
‘Having fun back there?’ I’d called across the pub.
‘I’ve always wanted to use one of these!’ She’d held up the mixer gun, brandishing it like a weapon.
I’d not thought much beyond that it didn’t work properly. I didn’t want to think about another thing I needed to fix, when I really just wanted to get Josie up to my apartment where it was … comfier . ‘Just grab a bottle from the fridge,’ I’d replied. ‘There’s glasses in the rack if you need.’
‘It’d be a shame to make more washing up. What with your dishwasher problems.’ I’d looked back to see a wry grin twist her lips, almost like she was thinking out loud. ‘And I don’t need a bottle of water, that’s not good for the environment.’
The mixer was still in her hand, and I started moving towards her, sensing something ominous.
‘Josie, that’s not?—’
‘Straight from the source would be better, right? ’
‘I wouldn’t—’ I’d looked on in horror as she’d raised the mixer gun up.
‘Now, if only I knew which was the right button …’ she’d continued as I rushed towards her. ‘This one seems to be coke, this one is soda …’ I swear she’d looked me right in the eye as I darted around the bar. ‘Water, perfect .’
She’d opened her mouth and put the mixer nozzle near her lips.
‘No—’
I’d lunged for her, just as her finger made contact and water erupted like a lawn sprinkler in her face. The spray had ricocheted off her cheeks, her chest, her hair. Equally drenched, I’d squinted through the deluge and tried to wrestle the mixer over the sink to contain the eruption.
‘It’s got a … faulty button,’ I’d managed to gasp as the torrential downpour finally ceased.
We were both soaked through, and my gaze had pored over her body. Jeez, the way the material had clung to her.
A giggle had bubbled out of her then, free and joyful. Light. She’d swiped her fingers under her eyes and gave a little shake.
Swept up in the memory, I lean back on the bar exactly where I’d leant then. Her eyes had caught mine as they’d roved over her, observing the tightening of her nipples, the water dripping down between her spectacular tits.
‘Couldn’t wait, could you?’ I’d rasped, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, a grin aching to cross my face. ‘Getting all wet for me?’
She had rolled her lips together as if suppressing a laugh. ‘Patience isn’t my strong suit.’
I’d moved closer then, circling her waist, pulling her close to me. ‘How’s a man supposed to concentrate on closing up, when you’re positively dripping for me over here?’
My palms had burned with the feel of her, even through her sodden dress.
‘Shouldn’t keep me waiting, I guess?’ Her expression had been flirty, cheeky, borderline insolent, and I no longer wanted to play games with her.
I’d wanted her in the most serious of ways.
I’d kissed her then, stepping her backwards, chasing her lips, her body, that heat. She’d tasted sweet and her lips were surprisingly soft given her sassy mouth. I couldn’t quite work out why I’d been hesitant to kiss her properly — thoroughly — before. Some misplaced idea that I’d been pretending to be someone else. Kisses were too personal.
She’d opened for me, letting my tongue sweep into her hot, wet mouth.
‘Always so quick with the comebacks,’ I’d mumbled through my frantic lips. ‘You’ve got an answer for everything.’ I’d slid my hand across her ribs, the dress catching on my rough fingertips, then down to cup her ass, squeezing her closer to me.
Soon we were up against the doorway. I’d dragged my tongue down her neck and then up to her ear. My hands had continued to roam, my thumbs sliding round, finding their way under the dress while my lips worked over her satin skin.
‘Not if you do things like that.’ She had arched into my touch. ‘Things that leave me … completely …’ eyes rolling back in her head, she could barely gasp, ‘… speechless.’
Head tipping back, her lashes had fluttered shut and I’d paused for a moment, studying the way a smattering of freckles skittered across her cheeks, the way her lashes curled. My eyes had tracked down to her delicate collarbone, dipping below her slender neck. A red path flared from where my lips and teeth had dragged over her creamy skin.
‘Fuck, your neck.’ I’d peered at the angry skin, worry suddenly flooding through me.
She’d opened one eye, and cocked her head down to look at me. ‘Don’t worry about that.’ She’d smirked. ‘I kinda liked the way you left your mark on me at the fireworks.’
That had been the moment my loose grasp of control had totally snapped. Hands tangled in clothes, bodies pressed together, I’d thrusted her through the doorway into the back, desperate to get her up to my apartment.