Beautiful Stranger
Page 36
We were nearing the exit when Max reached for my arm and pulled me into a darkened corner. “Just one more,” he said, right before he brought his lips to mine. It was soft and sweet and his lips lingered there, as if he didn’t want to be the one to pull away.
I swallowed when I met his eyes again.
“Till next week, Petal.”
And then he was gone. I watched as he crossed the floor and headed out into the fading sunshine, and wondered how much I would regret this when it was over.
Eight
Monday afternoon I was in a crap mood. It was hotter than balls outside, my oldest sister was making noises about convincing Mum to move back to Leeds, and Will’s office had a better view.
“You’re a f**king tosser,” I muttered, stabbing at my chicken.
Will laughed and shoved an enormous bite of his lunch into his mouth. “Is this about my view again?”
“Fucking gross.” I pointed my chopsticks at his face, barely able to understand him around all the spicy eggplant. “Remind me again how you ended up with this office?”
“You were late to the walk-through. I put my name plate on the door. Boom.”
Right. It had been the first time since moving to New York that I shagged a woman at her place and, just as I expected, I got trapped. Normally I preferred sex at my place, where I could always make an excuse that my mother was dropping by or I had somewhere to be. At her place, a woman would want to offer tea, ask me to sleep over.
I wasn’t a complete prick. I had always been as open to a relationship as anyone. I just hadn’t yet met a woman who made me want to skip a night in my own bed. The women I’d met all introduced themselves to me, knew who I was, knew who it was they thought they wanted. For such a big city, New York often felt minuscule.
I looked out the window, at the fantastic view—fuck Will—and thought about Sara. She was my default distraction lately. She was a mystery, that one. If a woman wanted a man to think of her constantly, she should tell him he can only have her once a week and bam—concentration blown.
So here I was wondering, if she asked me to stay over at her place some night, what would I say?
You know the answer to that, you twat. You’d say yes.
I’d had sex with a few dozen women since moving to the States, but lately I’d had a hard time remembering details. Every memory of sex made me think of being with Sara. She was sweet and wild. She hid so much of herself, and yet she let me do f**king anything. I had never met a woman I found so paradoxically secretive and open.
“I met a woman, mate.”
Will shoved his chopsticks back into the takeout container and slid it across the desk. “So you’re going to talk about it now?”
“Oi. Maybe.”
“You’ve been seeing her for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Few weeks, yeah.”
“Just her?”
I nodded. “She’s a f**king stellar lay, and it’s good because she told me she doesn’t want me sleeping with other women.”
Will gave me the holy shit face. I ignored it.
“But she’s different. There’s something about her . . .” I rubbed my mouth, stared out the window. What the f**k is wrong with me today? “I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Do I know her?”
“Don’t think so.” I thought back, trying to remember if Will had actually met Sara at the fund-raiser. I was with him most of the night after I left her to straighten her dress and freshen up, and I don’t think I ever saw them speak.
“So you won’t tell me who she is.” Will laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Has she captured your soul, young lover?”
“Fuck off.” I grabbed the plastic bag and shoved the mostly empty containers inside. “I just like her. But it’s just sex right now. By mutual agreement.”
“Which is good,” he said, carefully. “She’s not a digger then.”
“Am I a wanker for thinking that’s weird? She doesn’t want more. Even if I did, I think that would just make her run off. She’s terrified of being seen in public with me. Do you think I like her so much because she’s so bloody uninterested in anything but my dick?”
And like I always did when I thought of Sara, I began to make guesses about her endgame.
Will whistled quietly. “She sounds fantastic. But I can’t imagine why she’d be interested in your dick. With that tiny thing you’ll never be half the man your mother is.”
“You just insulted Brigid? You’re an arsehole.”
I swallowed when I met his eyes again.
“Till next week, Petal.”
And then he was gone. I watched as he crossed the floor and headed out into the fading sunshine, and wondered how much I would regret this when it was over.
Eight
Monday afternoon I was in a crap mood. It was hotter than balls outside, my oldest sister was making noises about convincing Mum to move back to Leeds, and Will’s office had a better view.
“You’re a f**king tosser,” I muttered, stabbing at my chicken.
Will laughed and shoved an enormous bite of his lunch into his mouth. “Is this about my view again?”
“Fucking gross.” I pointed my chopsticks at his face, barely able to understand him around all the spicy eggplant. “Remind me again how you ended up with this office?”
“You were late to the walk-through. I put my name plate on the door. Boom.”
Right. It had been the first time since moving to New York that I shagged a woman at her place and, just as I expected, I got trapped. Normally I preferred sex at my place, where I could always make an excuse that my mother was dropping by or I had somewhere to be. At her place, a woman would want to offer tea, ask me to sleep over.
I wasn’t a complete prick. I had always been as open to a relationship as anyone. I just hadn’t yet met a woman who made me want to skip a night in my own bed. The women I’d met all introduced themselves to me, knew who I was, knew who it was they thought they wanted. For such a big city, New York often felt minuscule.
I looked out the window, at the fantastic view—fuck Will—and thought about Sara. She was my default distraction lately. She was a mystery, that one. If a woman wanted a man to think of her constantly, she should tell him he can only have her once a week and bam—concentration blown.
So here I was wondering, if she asked me to stay over at her place some night, what would I say?
You know the answer to that, you twat. You’d say yes.
I’d had sex with a few dozen women since moving to the States, but lately I’d had a hard time remembering details. Every memory of sex made me think of being with Sara. She was sweet and wild. She hid so much of herself, and yet she let me do f**king anything. I had never met a woman I found so paradoxically secretive and open.
“I met a woman, mate.”
Will shoved his chopsticks back into the takeout container and slid it across the desk. “So you’re going to talk about it now?”
“Oi. Maybe.”
“You’ve been seeing her for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Few weeks, yeah.”
“Just her?”
I nodded. “She’s a f**king stellar lay, and it’s good because she told me she doesn’t want me sleeping with other women.”
Will gave me the holy shit face. I ignored it.
“But she’s different. There’s something about her . . .” I rubbed my mouth, stared out the window. What the f**k is wrong with me today? “I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Do I know her?”
“Don’t think so.” I thought back, trying to remember if Will had actually met Sara at the fund-raiser. I was with him most of the night after I left her to straighten her dress and freshen up, and I don’t think I ever saw them speak.
“So you won’t tell me who she is.” Will laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Has she captured your soul, young lover?”
“Fuck off.” I grabbed the plastic bag and shoved the mostly empty containers inside. “I just like her. But it’s just sex right now. By mutual agreement.”
“Which is good,” he said, carefully. “She’s not a digger then.”
“Am I a wanker for thinking that’s weird? She doesn’t want more. Even if I did, I think that would just make her run off. She’s terrified of being seen in public with me. Do you think I like her so much because she’s so bloody uninterested in anything but my dick?”
And like I always did when I thought of Sara, I began to make guesses about her endgame.
Will whistled quietly. “She sounds fantastic. But I can’t imagine why she’d be interested in your dick. With that tiny thing you’ll never be half the man your mother is.”
“You just insulted Brigid? You’re an arsehole.”
