Prologue
Saturday again. Same old, same old. Same pubs, same club, same friends — it’s Groundhog Day.
The same women throwing themselves at me.
Well, except for last week — last week I did the chasing, something my pals haven’t let me live down since.
Last week was different, she was different. She was something else.
I’m pissed off with myself that I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all fucking week. I wonder if she’s out tonight.
Jesus, she was sweet. I can't forget creeping around her place quietly so that I didn’t disturb her - standing over her - watching her sleeping like a psycho lovesick lunatic.
She’s fucking beautiful, she puts the other girls I’ve ever been with to shame.
Her gorgeous red hair was spread out on the pillow, long eyelashes resting on her cheeks.
She looked like a bloody angel - an image that’s been burned into my brain all week.
Her smokin' hot body… those curves… how it felt to be inside her. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I can’t be tied down.
I’m twenty-four for Christ’s sake, and my semi-pro rugby career is taking off.
The last thing I need to be thinking about is a woman.
If the lads on the team found out I was going soft over a girl, I’d never hear the last of it.
We clicked, though – I'd never been so relaxed with someone I was going home with for a shag. We laughed, we talked; she was easy to get on with. Of course, it doesn’t help that the sex was fucking amazing.
Our bodies seemed to instinctively know what the other one liked.
Her smooth skin against mine, how she tasted…
fuck, it gets me hard thinking about it.
I can’t believe I finally got to take her home last week.
Nervous? To approach a girl? Me? Yeah, right, that doesn’t happen…
or didn’t, but I was nervous approaching Kate.
I’d seen all the other guys approach her and be given the cold shoulder, as though she wasn’t interested in guys at all.
For months, I'd watched her and never seen her say yes to a guy, but she said yes to me, more fool her.
But she'd been eyeing me up when she thought I wasn't looking - that’s the only thing that made me pluck up the courage to talk to her. She’s way classier than any girl I’d generally go for - the ones that say yes straight away.
She was the best I’ve ever had. Amazing.
The number of times I've replayed last Saturday night over and over in my head, and had to take care of myself while thinking of her - the sounds she made, her face when she comes, how she tastes - everything about her.
Using my hand is not the same, but I can't sleep with the hard-ons that I've been getting this last week - I have to get rid of them somehow.
She hasn’t been in any of the pubs tonight that I've seen, but if she’s out tonight, she’ll be in here.
I quickly scan the place searching for her.
I’m not sure why I'm wasting all this time and energy when I’m not going to talk to her - I can’t.
She can do much better than me. Never had a girlfriend - I would be crap boyfriend material, out with the lads all the time, and when I’m not working, I’m training.
I flinch at the word boyfriend. Then there’s my dick, I can’t control it, it’s always wanting action - staying faithful to one woman is not my deal.
She’s better off without me, she doesn’t deserve that.
Something about her got to me, though. Kate…
Kate… I love saying her name, even in my head.
It makes me feel close to her. I know her name.
I've said it while I come inside her, alright, in a condom, but still.
I replay her voice, how it sounded when she was panting in my ear.
I've got to stop this, I'm a bloody joke. Walking out on her before she woke last week, Hell, I feel shitty about that. I always make it clear to the women I fuck that it’s a one-time deal and have never felt shitty, not once, so why do I feel shitty doing it to her? She got inside my head, that’s why.
Ollie, my best mate, turns to me. “Man, who are you looking for? You’ve been scanning the pubs all night, and now you’re the same in here – is it that bird you shagged last week? Could it be that Ginger wants to go back for seconds for the first time in his life?”
I wince at his terminology. Why am I wincing? I talk about women that way all the time. I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t like hearing him talk about Kate that way. I don’t want him to guess I have a thing for someone - I have my reputation to protect.
“Nah... wouldn’t go there again. She was awesome in the sack, actually, but you know me, Ol, don’t stick it in the same bird twice - I’ve had her now, I’m done – time for the next one.” I hate myself for talking about her like that, but I don’t want him to think I’m going soft.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and my whole body stiffens as dread fills me.
I don’t want to turn around. I look at Olly, and his eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights.
I know who’s stood behind me. I reluctantly turn around and see a sight I will never forget as long as I live.
Kate is standing there with her friends, and the hurt on her face makes me feel as though I'm being stabbed through the fucking gut – it’s painful, I can't help but wince. She looks as though she’s going to cry, but straightens, her face becoming impassive.
She shouts over the thumping music, “Well, it’s not as if you didn’t warn me. ” And turns on her heels to flee.
I am a wanker… shit. Her friends scowl at me and turn to follow her.
It’s for the best, I’d only end up hurting her. She was something special, though - that night was something special. I hope she didn’t feel it too, because if she feels the same way I do right now, it would kill me.