by Gina Azzi
“And Dais?”
She turns around and glances at me over her shoulder. Her hair falls forward, framing her face. Smiling at me softly, she waits for me to continue my thought. Except I can’t. Because right now, with the way she looks and the sunlight filtering in through the large windows, she’s too beautiful, too striking, to voice words. I swallow, my hands clenching into fists as I try to make my brain work.
“Yeah?” she prompts.
I shake my head to clear it, blinking twice. “You don’t need to justify missing your family. It’s really okay. And you don’t need to keep it all to yourself either. If you ever want to talk about anything, you know I’m here, right? Whatever you need.”
Her eyes soften at my words, and a gentleness settles over her features. For a moment, I’m worried I’ve gone too far, blurred the already blurry line between our friendship and our hooking up. But then she blinks, and the emotion is gone. “I know. Thank you, Finn. Really.”
“Of course. Thank you for this.” I hold up the doughnut, not even caring as more powdered sugar falls to my desk.
“No worries. Enjoy it.”
I stuff another bite into my mouth, grinning at her as she laughs. “See you later?”
“See you later.”
My office door closes behind her and I lean back in my chair, polishing off my doughnut.
The clatter of plates and din of general conversation surrounds Daisy and me as we enter the tapas bar. Roger recommended the restaurant to me which is funny as I never cared before about taking a woman on a proper date and making sure a restaurant was trendy, had good reviews. Hell, I rarely do dates to begin with. Not that this is a date per se… but still, I want Daisy to enjoy dinner.
Once we’re seated, she leans back in her chair and looks around at the funky art decorating the walls, the mosaic tiles dancing across the floor. “I like this place. It’s warm. Have you been here before?”
“No. It opened just a few weeks ago.”
“Really? I didn’t think the restaurant scene was your thing. Did you check the Yelp reviews?”
I can’t stop the grin that forms on my lips at her teasing. “You’re cute. No, I didn’t check the Yelp reviews. Stop making me feel old. Roger recommended it.”
“That makes sense. And you’re not old.”
“What makes sense? You do know I’m thirty, right?” I add, amused by the two conversations we have going on simultaneously.
“Roger seems to be on top of Edinburgh’s social scene. And, thirty is like the new twenty.”
“That’s something people in their early twenties say to comfort the old folks.”
Daisy wrinkles her nose. “When you say folks I see your point about being old.”
I laugh, gesturing toward the server so that we can order some drinks and appetizers.
“And, Roger’s not as aware of Edinburgh’s top spots as he thinks he is. Although, he beats me.” I admit.
“Is this restaurant Roger’s new go-to spot?”
“His go-to spot?” I raise my eyebrows, thanking our server for dropping off two habanero margaritas.
Daisy rolls her eyes, running her finger around the salted rim of her glass. “You know, like the place he takes all of his dates. His spot.”
I chuckle, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. “Roger’s not that clever.”
Daisy holds up her glass. “Cheers, Finn.”
Clinking my glass against hers, I take a sip. Her eyes glitter over the rim of her margarita and my chest tightens at the heat that blazes in her irises the longer her gaze holds mine.
“Do you have a go-to spot?” she asks, curiosity lacing her tone although her expression remains playful.
“Would it bother you if I say yes?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Have you taken me there yet?” Her front teeth sink into her plush lower lip as she waits for my response and I lean closer, hanging on to her words, tracking each emotion as it blossoms on her face.
I don’t do this. The flirting, the banter. My interactions with women are transactional with both parties knowing exactly what they’re getting out of the exchange. It’s a one-time thing between two consenting adults without the messy feelings and complicated backstory.
Sitting across from Daisy, a flushed pink colors her cheeks and her eyes dazzle. I’m enjoying our exchange, the conversation and the jesting. I’m enjoying her.
“I don’t have a spot.” I admit and her smirk deepens. “Do you?”
“Ah, that question is a bit unfair since you have homecourt advantage. I haven’t lived here long enough to have a spot.”
Chuckling, I take a gulp of my margarita, the habanero spice rolling over my tongue. “If I ever choose a spot, you’ll be the first I take there.”
“Gee, thanks.” Daisy picks up the menu and scans it. “Back home, the spot for pretty much everyone is Raf’s Bar and Grill.”
“The place we had lunch at with Sierra and Denver before Christmas?” I question, remembering the casual bar and restaurant. It was similar to any pub you’d walk into here in Edinburgh.
“That’s the one. Slim pickings in a small town.” She shrugs, her eyes darting back to the menu.
“Is that where all your dates used to take you?” I ask, curious for her answer.
A blush works its way up her neck, gliding over her cheekbones. She bites her bottom lip again and I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, more curious than I should be about her response.
“I didn’t really date a lot.”
“What?”
She snaps her menu shut and peers at me. “I’ve had two real relationships. One in high school and yeah, we went to Raf’s a few times for burgers and fries but we were usually with a group of our friends. And one in college where we went on more date dates.”
“Two boyfriends?” Surprise laces my tone as a warmth spreads through my chest, her words pleasing me more than I thought possible. She’s only had two boyfriends. But, what the hell does that mean? I’m sure she’s been with more than two guys. That thought shits all over my pleasant feelings from a moment earlier and I wince.
“Just two.” She laughs nervously, her eyes darting around for our server.
“Were they serious?” Even if she’s only been with two guys, if she was serious with them, emotionally invested, it would be more meaningful than anything I’ve had in recent years.
“I think more serious for me than them.” She offers after a pause.
“Why?” I ask, wanting to know the details of her past relationships when it’s never something I thought about with another woman before. Except Cassie.
“I’m a hopeless romantic.” She sighs, a dimple forming in her left cheek as she smiles. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“I’d say an eternal optimist. You tend to see the good in everyone, in everything.”
“Ah, I know.” She groans.
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“It kind of is. My brothers are always so worried about me. Growing up, they thought I could never handle the truth about things, like my dad, or they wanted to protect me from having to worry about finances and college. I think they see my outlook as a weakness.”
I feel her words in the center of my chest, knowing that I looked at her sunny outlook, her freshness, as a weakness too. I dismissed it, given her age, and figured at some point, she’d grow up. But why shouldn’t she see the world through a positive and idealistic lens? “It’s not.” I say aloud, realizing one more assumption I’ve made about Daisy. I treated her like her brothers, wanting to protect her from an outcome when she had every right to make the decision on her own. “There’s a certain strength in being vulnerable.”
Her eyebrows rise slowly, disbelief lifting the left corner of her mouth. “Really?”
I chuckle. “I know, it’s surprising coming from me.”
“The jaded and cynical old man? Please, continue.”
“
I just mean that you let people in. And you’re not afraid to either. There’s a strength that comes with that kind of trust in others. I wish I could be more like that, more open and trusting.”
Daisy tilts her head thoughtfully, weighing my words. “Or maybe I’ve never been burned.”
“No, you endured the loss of your mum not to mention all the drama with your dad. That alone would change most people’s perspectives.”
“I don’t want to be closed off to people, things, new experiences. If you live like that, then what’s the point of even living? I want to be fearless.”
“You are.”
“I’m getting there. It’s something I’m trying out.”
I laugh. “How’s it working for you?”
“You tell me. Will you stay over at my apartment tonight?” She asks just as our order arrives.
I wait for the server to explain our dishes and disappear before I glance back at Daisy. She eyes me unabashedly, the demure demeanor she reverted to on Christmas has vanished. The air between us shifts, an undercurrent becoming a riptide. I’m drawn to her confidence, impressed by her poise. Daisy Kane knows exactly what she wants.
And she wants me to spend the night. While we’ve been hooking-up for the past two weeks, I always leave afterwards, never opting to sleep over in her bed and do the morning routine together. But now, she’s asking me to.
The space between us quivers with an energy that never existed before. If I say yes, things between us will escalate, become more. I’ll cross every line I drew in the sand, erase every excuse I’ve used to place distance between us. But the longer I stare at her, I realize that saying no would only delay the inevitable. Because I can’t keep myself from Daisy.
“Yes.”
A slow grin stretches across her full lips, her fingers stretching up to play with the ends of her hair. “Good.” She says slowly, her tone seductive, her gaze never wavering.
“I still don’t know what we’re doing, Daisy.” My own voice is gruff, gravelly. I take another gulp of my drink; this time, the habanero spice barely registers. My focus is solely on Daisy and the heated charge between us.
Her smile grows wider, her eyes dancing. “Now who’s proposing labels? Isn’t this enough, Finn?”
Damn it. She’s flipping my own logic against me, managing my expectations. Since Cassie, I’ve never let a woman grow close enough to have any type of pull over me, to maintain any of the power in our exchange. But Daisy, she could straight up own me.
And I’ve never been more excited or terrified in my life.
Or distracted.
The longer we sit in the dimly lit restaurant, with various chatter and laughter surrounding us, eagerness to have Daisy beneath me, or on top of me, or up against a shower wall, turns to desperation. I don’t even glance at the dessert menu, my eyes boring holes into her, hoping she passes too so we can get out of here.
She glances up from the dessert menu and her breathing hitches. “You ready to leave?”
“I’ve been ready since we arrived.” I tell her truthfully and a flicker of satisfaction ripples over her features.
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours is closer.”
“Done.”
The first time I take her is against the door to her apartment, the two of us barely falling inside before I have her pressed against it. She hitches her legs around my waist and tugs up my shirt, her hands falling to the waistband of my jeans and unbuttoning them with a flip of her fingers.
Groaning into her mouth, I slide my hands up from her thighs, squeezing the globes of her ass, before pinning her against the door so I can peel off the sexy silk blouse that clings to her like a second skin. Our kisses are heated, growing frenzied with each passing moment. I nip at her lower lip, flicking my tongue over the spot to soothe it as she rocks forward, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, her elbows hooking over my shoulders, until there’s no space between us.
Our breathing is heavy, labored. Every inhale I drag into my lungs is wrought with her scent, sweet and fresh like wildflowers. Sliding my hands over her skin creates goosebumps up the column of her spine and sends jolts of electricity down my arms. I feel drunk, drugged, my brain racing, trying to process the emotional overload of being with Daisy while my hands and mouth work her over.
She grips my shoulder blades, her nails digging into my skin, creating a sting that travels through my body, seeps into my bloodstream. Her teeth scrape against mine, our tongues clashing, and a puff of laughter works between us. She drags her eyes to mine and the overwhelming desire clouding her irises causes the laughter to die in my throat, a growl emerging instead. Leaning forward, I capture her mouth in a kiss so raw, so exposed, I feel something literally shift in my chest, as if my equilibrium tripped.
She closes her eyes, dropping her head back to rest against her front door. The column of her neck exposed, her mouth parted slightly, her breathing ragged. Jesus, she’s beautiful.
“Fucking hell, Dais.” I murmur once before I dip my head to her collarbone and push into her, all thoughts ceasing to exist.
Hours later, after ice cream and easy conversation and a shower, I have her again. But this time, it’s different. Everything is different as if I’m looking at the world, at her, through a kaleidoscope. Colors and shapes and patterns that once made sense are rearranged, a new paradigm emerging. A shift occurs that feels transformative in its intensity, overwhelming in its magnitude.
Time stops or at least slows down as I absorb the smattering of freckles that dot the bridge of her nose, barely discernible as they blend into her skin. I count her eyelashes when she blinks and drink in the dimple that winks from her left cheek. She has a beauty mark behind her right ear and another just below her belly button. Her hair feels like silk when I thread my fingers through it and the Cupid’s bow of her mouth twitches when the pad of my thumb swipes across it.
Slow and sensual, I worship every inch of her, lose myself in every sigh and moan that falls from her lips. Heat travels up from my abdomen, dots of sweat beading on my forehead, as chills skate down my spine. I feel feverish, my lips connecting with hers over and over and over until the pressure building within, between us, around us ignites, burning us both from the inside out.
Coming down from the high we created feels like floating. Her eyes spark like gemstones, blue and green and brown glimmers of bliss that I want to hold onto, imprint onto my brain like a tattoo. A bubble of satisfied laughter falls from her mouth and I catch it with mine, rolling my tongue languidly against hers, molding her body to mine.
I float for a really long time.
“You better get your head in the game,” Roger warns me after I take a tough tackle.
I love playing rugby; I’ve been playing it since I was a kid. In the past, it always helped clear my mind. It gave me something to focus on other than whatever is happening in my life. But today, I’m screwing up left and right because I can’t focus.
All I can think about is Daisy. And how I’m feeling too much for her. Too fast. She’s turning into the single bright spot in my day and that’s a dangerous thing. It’s too much pressure for one person to bear.
And it scares the hell out of me.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to hook up and have fun and then part ways. I wasn’t supposed to become emotionally invested like this.
We’re leaving for Georgia this weekend to attend Sierra and Denver’s wedding. While Daisy and I haven’t spoken about what we’re going to tell our families, I’m sure everyone is going to notice that there’s something going on between us. If they haven’t already.
But things between us are developing rapidly. At least, in terms of my feelings for her. One day, I was pushing her away, putting space between us. And now, now I’m biting my tongue to keep myself from telling her that I haven’t even looked at another woman since we’ve become involved. That I’m essentially doing the monogamy thing I swore I wasn’t cut out for.
/> It’s unnatural that I should feel so much, so strongly, for someone after only a handful of weeks.
And right now, I’m literally getting my ass handed to me because I can’t stop thinking about this weekend with both of our families. What will they think?
“Maybe sit the next bit out,” Roger tells me, but I shake my head, taking a swig of water from my bottle.
Following him back onto the field, I vow myself to focus on the game. I can think about this weekend later.
These are my thoughts when one of the props comes out of nowhere, flattening me. I lay, back pressed hard into the cold earth, and stare up at the grey, cloudless sky, my lungs aching from the hit and the cold.
At this rate, I’m not going to survive Daisy Kane.
14
Daisy
“Morning y’all!” I call out to Finn, Aaron, and Olivia as I see them standing in front of the check-in desk in departures.
“Daisy!” Olivia grins back, running over to wrap her arms around my waist. “I’m so happy you’re flying with us.”
“Me too.” I smile down at her, ruffling a hand over her pigtails. “Your hair looks super cute like this.”
“Thanks. My mum did it this morning special since I’m not going to see her for four days.” She holds up four fingers to emphasize her point.
“Your mom’s not coming?” I ask, surprise coloring my tone as I look up to where Finn and Aaron wait for us to join them.
“No. She had to work,” Olivia explains, her expression downcast. I’m not sure if it’s disappointment over her mom not making the trip, or her six-year-old ability to grasp that something with the situation is off, but she’s not able to pinpoint exactly what it is.
“Hey.” I crouch down until we’re eye level. “It’s all right. Your mom is going to miss you so much while you’re in Georgia and think about you every day. So, let’s have a really great time, so you can share loads of fun stories with her when you come back.”
