1.03pm
A squillion searches later and I have a list.
My eyes are now stinging along with my mouth. This job searching malarkey is bloody hard work. All I’ve managed to do in two hours is make a list of possible job roles.
Designer
Buyer
Merchandiser
Stylist
But everyone says the same thing: experience needed. How the hell am I supposed to get experience if no one will give me a job without it? It seems my only other option is to apply for a graduate scheme, which according to google, are very competitive. Brilliant. I’m resigned to a future of fights with the wicked stepfather and working long hours in bars. I suppose there is still the road trip idea. I could just disappear for a while.
I zone out from the computer and sigh sadly to myself. “Izzy, Izzy, Izzy.”
If only she would send me a sign. Anything at all.
Taking a break from the computer, I wander over to my bag in search of my mobile phone. Maybe she’s sent me a message. It’s possible she’s spent one night without me and realised she needs me, too. There’s so much crap in this bag, it needs a clear out.
“Come on, come on, where are you?” I mutter, continuing to rummage. It’s got to be here somewhere. It has to be. But the more digging I do, the clearer it becomes the phone isn’t where it's supposed to be. Throwing it to one side, I quickly scoot around to find my jacket, delving into the pockets and coming out empty from both.
“You have got to be shitting me.” I sigh, tossing the jacket onto the bed, my hand raking over my head. I’ve lost the damn thing. How the hell will I know now if she’s been trying to get in touch with me? More importantly, how the hell will I get in touch with her? My stubbornness stopped me writing down her new address. There’s always the house phone. Maybe she’s tried that. Rushing out of my room, I shout down from the top of the stairs. “Mum… Mum…” But there’s no answer, so I shout a little louder. “Muuuuuummmmm?”
“Your mother has gone out, Paris, and next time, do us the courtesy of coming down the stairs to talk to us properly,” John’s stern voice cries back at me from below.
“I just want to know if Izzy has called the house or left any messages.”
“No, she hasn’t,” he answers flatly.
I try to hide the disappointment in my reply, “Oh, right,” before slipping back inside my bedroom out of his way. It sure as hell isn’t the sign my heart so desperately wants. The only chance left now is if my phone turns up and that’s not likely if I don’t go and try to find it. But that means going back to that house – that place where I did a humiliating thing with that Ethan. Is it worth it? She hasn’t called, so maybe she’s past the point of caring anymore or maybe she has tried to call.
“Urgh. This is so fucking hard.”
The thought of being someone's last resort scares the hell out of me, even more so that I could be Izzy's, but I’ll never know unless I find the phone.
There’s also the possibility that Daggs could be there. The thought alone brings back that sick feeling. Hopefully, Ethan is just as ashamed about what happened as I am and won’t have said anything. In all honesty, I’m not even sure I would recognise him. I vaguely remember him being quite a bit taller than me and having brown hair. Any other details are slightly hazy. It makes me wonder whether he would recognise me either. I'm not even sure why I'm bothered what Daggs thinks. I’ve only met him once. It’s not like we are even friends, let alone anything else. This is stupid. I’m stupid. I should just go over there, grab my phone and move on out.
My eyes dart back and forth between the computer screen and the bike keys now clutched in my hand, while my internal deliberation continues. Should I? Shouldn't I? Do I? Don't I? Images come flooding back of the terrible mistake with Ethan as the voice continues to reason with me. “You need to call Izzy. You know you want to, and you know it’s the right thing to do.”
3.03pm
Is this the right place?
Gazing at the front door from the end of the path, I’m pretty certain this is the place I left yesterday. It seems a lot quieter though, and I don’t quite remember it looking so shabby. The grass is overgrown with glass bottles scattered all around. The bin in the corner is overflowing with rubbish and the net curtains hanging in the window look like they need a good wash. The voice in my head chirps up again, telling me it's not too late to turn around and go home. In fact, I should do that... I'm going to do that.
"Rider!"
I feel the force of his hand on my arse cheeks from behind, before I hear the growl of the nickname in my ear. It sends me jumping out of my skin.
"Hey. Hi," I stutter, twisting around quickly to face him. He’s exactly how I remembered him looking.
"I knew you’d be back.” His smug grin says it all.
“You did?”
“Fuck, yeah.”
“And why’s that?” My stomach is on tenterhooks as to whether he knows and if this is it. I prepare myself to act to dumb if he does. Even though this guy intrigues me, he is nothing to me, making it easy to lie, hopefully.
“I’ll let you into a secret," he says as he leans in closer. “You're mine now.”
“Excuse me?” I take a small step backwards, completely lost for words.
“Plus, you left this.” He laughs, ignoring me completely and pulling what appears to be my phone from his back pocket, holding it up in the air.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god you found it.” I smile and reach up to grab at it, but miss as he pulls it away.
“Not so fast.”
“Daggs, please. Give me my phone.”
“I’ll give you it back on one condition.”
I cross my arms and raise a brow at him, choosing silence as the only way to respond to him.
“You agree to spend the rest of the day with me.”
I knew this was a bad idea. My only saving grace is that he obviously knows nothing of what happened with Ethan. Either that or he actually does know and doesn’t care. As much as I’m curious what spending time with him in a sober state would be like, my gut is telling me to go home and ring Izzy. How many times have I told myself over the years to start listening to my gut instinct?
“You’re crazy. Just give me my damn phone back so I can get out of here.” I lunge forward, trying to snatch at it but he continues to tease me.
“Feisty. I like it, but you aren’t getting it back until you agree.”
“It’s not happening so just give me the phone.”
“I’m a man who gets what he wants, Rider, so you might as well give up now and agree.”
The thing is, I believe that, too. He’s persistent and strikes me as the type of guy who gets his own way. If I want to have any chance of getting my phone back then I know I’m going to have to do it.
“Fine.” I cross my arms in defeat. “Two hours, tops. Then I’m gone.”
“Make it four and we have a deal.”
“Three.”
“Done.”
What have I got myself into?
“Didn’t exactly get what you wanted, Mr. Big Man.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Rider. I told you you were mine and now I have you for the next three hours. Let’s go.”
Why do I feel like I’ve just made a deal with the devil? This is going to be hell.
*******
“When I agreed to spend the day with you, I have to admit, this is not how I expected it to be,” I say softly.
“What exactly did you expect?” Daggs asks.
“Something a little wilder and a little less…” I turn to face him, my hand breaking another piece of bread from the slice I’m holding. “Nice.” Throwing it across the pond, my eyes watch where it lands, giving me a good distraction from the man stood next to me. I thought I was going to hate spending time with him. I thought he was going to be unbearable, but he isn’t. I can’t remember the last time I did something so relaxed and laid back.
> “There’s more to life than mad parties.”
“There is?” I question through a chuckle.
“Sure. There’s love, marriage, kids…”
“Seriously?” I scoff, almost choking on the fresh, crisp air.
“Nah, I’m lying. Life is all about the party.” He laughs.
“Oh, ha ha, very funny.” I nudge him with my shoulder as I watch two ducks fighting for a piece of bread floating in the water.
“I’m not saying that isn’t for me one day. I just need to meet the right girl… Or Rider.”
My eyes flicker, flustered, at the same time as the heat flushes in my cheeks. I continue throwing bread into the pond, unable to make eye contact with him. “You got a thing for girls with motorbikes then?”
“Just one.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I disagree.” He takes my now free hand and pulls me into his side. My body automatically twists to face him as he lowers his face to mine. “I think it’ll get me everywhere.”
I swallow through the nervous lump in my throat. “You seem so sure.”
His other hand glides up towards my rosy cheek as his thumb lightly rubs across my skin. “I know you can feel the connection between us.”
I’m not quite sure what it is about him, but he makes me feel nervous, in a good way – the butterfly flutter, exciting type of nervous. I’m not intimidated by his strength, but drawn in. I want him to wrap those big arms around my fragile body and take care of me forever. It’s what I’ve wanted from a man for so long, to be taken care of.
“I…”
“Shhhhh.” He places a finger lightly over my lips to stop me from speaking, before tenderly replacing it with his soft, warm lips. It’s not over passionate; it’s just gentle and the right amount of pressure to indicate he likes me enough not to push the boundaries. Maybe I was wrong about him. The way my heart is hammering, I would say I’m feeling that connection right now. When he pulls away, I’m left feeling dazed as I slowly open my eyes and rub my lips together to savour the taste of him on me.
Dropping his forehead to mine, he states, “Looks like the four hours is up. You’re free to leave.”
I gaze up at him through hooded eyes and whisper, “What if I don’t want to be free?”
“Did you just admit you want to be mine?” He smirks.
“Maybe.” I smile shyly back. “It depends if you return the phone.”
His hand dips into his pocket to pull it out as he stands tall and holds it out. “As promised.”
I hesitantly lift my hand to take the phone from him, hoping he won’t play games with me this time, and he doesn’t. Keeping to his word, he returns it back to me. It’s just a shame my hand is shaking too much from the nerves of being around him, causing the damn thing to fall onto the rocky path, and the screen smashes.
“Oh, shit!” I cry out, dropping to my knees to pick it up from the floor.
“Here, let me get that.” He bends down, too, to help me pick it up. I lift my hand and rake it across my head with worry. “What the hell am I going to do now?”
“Rider, don’t worry about the phone. I’ll sort you out a new one. I promise.” He reassures me as his hand finds my face again. He kept to his word before; there’s no reason he wouldn’t again. I feel like I can trust him.
“Okay. Thanks.” I smile flatly.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Twenty-Four
18th July 2014
So this is what it feels like to be wrong.
It turns out Daggs isn’t so much the devil and spending time with him isn’t so much like hell. The only hell I am suffering is getting my phone back only for it to no longer work. It gets worse when I get home and hear from John that there has still been no call on the landline from Izzy.
I can’t stop thinking about everything that has happened between Izzy and I. It makes me constantly deliberate over what I’m going to do. We are supposedly for life, moving together on the same path, but somehow it feels like we have come to a crossroads. Are we at a point where I need to finally let go and move on, no matter how much it hurts? It’s also clear I can’t live under the same roof as John anymore. I’m beyond fed up of putting up with him and all his ways of proving he doesn’t want me in his life. Mum doesn’t seem to care either, siding with him every step of the way. What's even worse is the thought that I'm going to end up alone. No Dad, no Mum, no Rob, and now no Izzy.
I can’t face being alone any longer.
Daggs says I’m his. He’s been nice to me and as pathetic as it sounds, I might as well spend some time with someone who actually seems to care about me. The time I have spent with him over the last day has been the best in a long while. He’s the one that has proved me wrong so far, while others I’ve known my whole life have just let me down. That’s why I’ve had no choice but to leave. There’s nothing but a quickly scribbled note in my place. I'm tired, both physically and emotionally. I can't please everyone anymore. I can't pretend everything is okay when it's not. I need to find peace, and surprisingly, Daggs gives me that. He's where I want to be, even if deep down, I know it feels wrong.
Unaware of where Daggs is, I slowly tiptoe towards his kitchen from the spare bedroom of his apartment. The scent of my mum’s fabric softener on my clean shirt catches in my nose, reminding me of the home I’ve just walked away from. That place still holds so many memories for me, but it doesn’t feel like my home anymore. Awkwardly wrapping my arms tightly around my waist, I bob my head from side to side and whisper, “Daggs, are you here?” But there’s no response. He must have gone out, which instantly makes me feel even more uneasy. I’m a stranger in his home. I think all sense left my goddamn mind when I just turned up here last night, but luckily he’s agreed to me crashing here for a while and the smirk he wore on his face at the time was encouraging.
Opening the fridge and taking a nosy inside, I’m relieved to see that there’s a bottle of ice-cold milk. Although the ache has subsided in my jaw, the ulcer is still driving me nuts. It’s right on the edge of my tongue and I keep catching the little fucker. Since being with Daggs, I’ve not spotted drugs anywhere and he certainly hasn’t offered me any. Maybe it was just a one off because he was on a night out or just something he does every now and again. I don’t know.
I’m suddenly startled by the slam of the front door, causing me to jump backwards and my hand to swiftly slam the fridge shut. I stumble into the corner of the worktop with my legs crossed, and my hands frantically tug at the hem of my shirt as I become conscious of my surroundings. Jesus Christ, I’m in an apartment with an extremely mysterious, intriguing, extraordinary stranger. Most girls in my position would feel intimidated and nervous, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I fit into the category of the masses. I'm terrified. The anticipation builds as I wait and watch him stalk around the corner.
My head drops as I fidget nervously, but not before I catch a glimpse of his appearance. His jawline is strong and his skin is light brown. He has broad shoulders, is well built and the tattoo alone is pretty scary. He is rugged and rough around the edges, but his appearance appeals to me.
Daggs saunters into the kitchen, almost throwing his phone and keys onto the counter. In one quick sweep, he’s removed a knife from the block, an apple from the bowl and begins to slice a small chunk off, crunching it in his mouth as he speaks.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Rider."
“I haven’t slept that long, have I?” I croak out.
“Long enough.”
“I must be catching up from the other night.”
“Yeah. That was one mental party.”
I swallow quietly, not wanting him to see me falter as I quickly realise that I need to change the topic of conversation as subtly as I can.
“Yeah, my mouth’s still paying for it, too,” I say, holding my hand up towards the fridge. “I was just about to get a drink. You want one?”
He lets ou
t a low grunt, followed by a chuckle. “Is your mouth feeling like crap? You ought to try some of this. The sharp taste helps with the ulcers. Stings a bit, but it'll sort you out.”
Before I can respond, he’s sliced another chunk off and has it balanced on the edge of the blade as he presses it to my lips. The way he handles the knife makes me feel on edge, especially since it’s so close. As our eyes lock, I take a moment to look deep into his, trying to figure out what is going on in his head, but there’s nothing. I slowly edge my head towards the blade and nip the apple between my teeth. Our gaze never breaks while I delicately bite down on the fruit. The juices start to seep into my gums, causing me to gasp sharply. He’s right. After the initial fierce stab, the lull is quite tranquilising.
I continue to chew, conscious of the noise echoing in the silent room. Daggs hasn’t changed his stance, though, with the blade still up high by my mouth. He remains silent, but something in his brown eyes is starting to come to life. My heart begins to pound along to the rhythm of my mouth’s crunching while my mind litters with uncontrollable thoughts of what he plans on doing with that knife. He adjusts his posture, closing the already small gap between us. That’s when I see it... A flicker of desire shoots across his pupils, sending my tummy into a spin. His large torso and bulging biceps suddenly make me feel so small in comparison. I’ve never been with a man who makes his presence so known without saying or doing anything at all. I can tell he likes to be in control just from the way he holds himself, and I don’t know what to do. Every sense in my body is warning me this could end up so wrong, but I can’t help but feel attracted to him. Nervously swallowing the remains of the apple, I’m about to speak when his low voice barks out a command.
“Remove your shirt, Rider.”
“What?” I breathe out without thought.
“You heard me.”
He doesn’t move, and in any other situation, I would feel creeped out by his demand, but for some reason, I’m not and before my brain has a chance to engage, my fingers eagerly respond to his request and start unhooking buttons. I can’t stop them. There’s a slight tremble to my hands as I roll my shoulders slowly to slip the shirt off, watching it drop to the floor. The not knowing what is going to happen next has me floating on the thin edge between want and anxiety. The heave in my chest has become visible, and despite trying to steady my breath and calm my nerves, I can’t help but worry about how vulnerable I must appear.
Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2) Page 16
