Eternally North
Page 20
“No wonder! Have you seen the clip of me? I’m dressed up like a tart. Rule one of teaching: students and their family should not see you dressed for clubbing. Oh my God! I pulled out the slut drop too! Do you think I’ll get fired over this?” I asked, suddenly panicked. “Plus, I think he hates me. Was that not obvious?”
Tink snorted in indignation. “The slut drop is your signature move, ham slice, and he doesn’t hate you. He was drawn to you without a doubt. Then again it could have been your titties. They look unreal tonight,” he remarked as he pushed my br**sts up with his hands.
“Forget it. I want to,” I gestured with a wave of my hand. “I definitely need a night out now after this. Jägerbombs ahoy! I’m up for getting completely sloshed,” I hooted.
“Right well, I need to finish my shift. Sit by the counter in the back and I’ll get you a daiquiri while you wait.”
He stopped suddenly, as he was walking away. “Do you want me to spit in his garlic bread in revenge?”
He wasn’t joking.
I laughed and shook my head. “No, but thanks for the support, chuck.”
Tink just winked in response.
I took myself to the staff bar and jumped up on a stool. I felt eyes on me and when I looked back, Tudor North was glaring menacingly my way. Our eyes met and he gave a brisk nod, his mouth clenched into a rigid tight line.
What a weirdo. What did I ever do to him? Recognise him? He shouldn't be bloody famous then, if he doesn't want the friggin’ attention!
Chapter 7
Celebrity close encounter
Fifteen minutes later, and I was contentedly sipping on the remains of my large daiquiri when a deep cough interrupted my thoughts.
Tudor North stood behind me with folded arms and a dangerously sexy lopsided smirk. Now he had moved away from the cover of the table I could see him in his full glory, and glo-ri-ous he was.
Wearing a fitted black T-shirt, ripped dark jeans and an oversized beanie hat tucked in at the back, he towered above me, and for once in my life I actually felt dainty next to his remarkably wide, tall and sculpted body.
“You work here as well as school or something?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.
“No. Just waiting for my friend to finish work, he gets off at ten. But hello to you too. Aren’t you the epitome of manners? So… friendly and approachable!” I jibed, feigning nonchalance.
Why is he over here?
“He?” he inquired, looking down at the floor and then back up at me, ignoring my bitchy remark.
“Yeah, Tin- er, John.”
He wouldn't get the ‘Tink’ reference and I couldn't be arsed explaining it to someone I frankly was beginning to detest. Although my body, currently covered in goose bumps, didn't exactly agree with my mind’s assessment. His good looks were making me queasier than the super-strong daiquiri I had just necked.
“Is he your boyfriend or something?” he asked in a very abrupt and direct manner.
“Not that it concerns you but, hell no! Take a look; do you think that’s my boyfriend?”
I pointed over to Tink, who was in the kitchen picking up pizzas above his head and strutting out to the main restaurant, doing his best Tyra Banks walk and screaming, “Work it, girl!”
“Ahh, guess not. He’s g*y, then?”
Please don’t let him be homophobic too.
“Yep. He’s as camp as Christmas and oh, he’s a cage fighter too,” I replied dryly.
He swerved to study Tink’s slender frame. “What-? Ahh,” he nodded his head with a knowing grin. “Touché, Ms. Munro. Payback for my display of sarcasm earlier?” he commented, with the ghost of a smile.
Is he actually trying to be nice?
“Tit for tat, Mr. North. Tit. For. Tat,” I scolded, exaggerating each word with a click of my fingers.
He pierced me with those forest-green eyes for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t look away. Slowly licking his lips, he looked me up and down and said, “Well, I’ve got the tats, so…”
Redirect, reverse, and just go back to being pissed off, not turned on!
I shuffled on the suddenly-hot seat, and pulled my libido back from sneaking up his trouser leg. “He jokes! An actor with a sense of humour, who knew? Not the f**k-nut I thought, then?” I said, finally finding my poker face.
“Not always, whatever the hell that is,” he murmured, seemingly slightly amused.
Phew! That voice.
“My name’s Tash by the way, I feel like an S&M madam you calling me ‘Ms.’ all the time.”
Tink snorted in indignation. “The slut drop is your signature move, ham slice, and he doesn’t hate you. He was drawn to you without a doubt. Then again it could have been your titties. They look unreal tonight,” he remarked as he pushed my br**sts up with his hands.
“Forget it. I want to,” I gestured with a wave of my hand. “I definitely need a night out now after this. Jägerbombs ahoy! I’m up for getting completely sloshed,” I hooted.
“Right well, I need to finish my shift. Sit by the counter in the back and I’ll get you a daiquiri while you wait.”
He stopped suddenly, as he was walking away. “Do you want me to spit in his garlic bread in revenge?”
He wasn’t joking.
I laughed and shook my head. “No, but thanks for the support, chuck.”
Tink just winked in response.
I took myself to the staff bar and jumped up on a stool. I felt eyes on me and when I looked back, Tudor North was glaring menacingly my way. Our eyes met and he gave a brisk nod, his mouth clenched into a rigid tight line.
What a weirdo. What did I ever do to him? Recognise him? He shouldn't be bloody famous then, if he doesn't want the friggin’ attention!
Chapter 7
Celebrity close encounter
Fifteen minutes later, and I was contentedly sipping on the remains of my large daiquiri when a deep cough interrupted my thoughts.
Tudor North stood behind me with folded arms and a dangerously sexy lopsided smirk. Now he had moved away from the cover of the table I could see him in his full glory, and glo-ri-ous he was.
Wearing a fitted black T-shirt, ripped dark jeans and an oversized beanie hat tucked in at the back, he towered above me, and for once in my life I actually felt dainty next to his remarkably wide, tall and sculpted body.
“You work here as well as school or something?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.
“No. Just waiting for my friend to finish work, he gets off at ten. But hello to you too. Aren’t you the epitome of manners? So… friendly and approachable!” I jibed, feigning nonchalance.
Why is he over here?
“He?” he inquired, looking down at the floor and then back up at me, ignoring my bitchy remark.
“Yeah, Tin- er, John.”
He wouldn't get the ‘Tink’ reference and I couldn't be arsed explaining it to someone I frankly was beginning to detest. Although my body, currently covered in goose bumps, didn't exactly agree with my mind’s assessment. His good looks were making me queasier than the super-strong daiquiri I had just necked.
“Is he your boyfriend or something?” he asked in a very abrupt and direct manner.
“Not that it concerns you but, hell no! Take a look; do you think that’s my boyfriend?”
I pointed over to Tink, who was in the kitchen picking up pizzas above his head and strutting out to the main restaurant, doing his best Tyra Banks walk and screaming, “Work it, girl!”
“Ahh, guess not. He’s g*y, then?”
Please don’t let him be homophobic too.
“Yep. He’s as camp as Christmas and oh, he’s a cage fighter too,” I replied dryly.
He swerved to study Tink’s slender frame. “What-? Ahh,” he nodded his head with a knowing grin. “Touché, Ms. Munro. Payback for my display of sarcasm earlier?” he commented, with the ghost of a smile.
Is he actually trying to be nice?
“Tit for tat, Mr. North. Tit. For. Tat,” I scolded, exaggerating each word with a click of my fingers.
He pierced me with those forest-green eyes for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t look away. Slowly licking his lips, he looked me up and down and said, “Well, I’ve got the tats, so…”
Redirect, reverse, and just go back to being pissed off, not turned on!
I shuffled on the suddenly-hot seat, and pulled my libido back from sneaking up his trouser leg. “He jokes! An actor with a sense of humour, who knew? Not the f**k-nut I thought, then?” I said, finally finding my poker face.
“Not always, whatever the hell that is,” he murmured, seemingly slightly amused.
Phew! That voice.
“My name’s Tash by the way, I feel like an S&M madam you calling me ‘Ms.’ all the time.”
