Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2)

by Marlow, Francesca

  Max falls in at the side of me and sets the engine roaring. He makes it seem so effortless. You can tell he likes his car, but again, it’s not the be all and end all. I have to admit, my intrigue peaks a little as to what it might be that gets this man’s passion going. He just seems so easy going. I’m starting to see why Izzy might have chosen him for me. I need relaxed and calm in my life. I need the stability. It’s obvious even now that Max could provide that.

  “So, where are we heading?” I shimmy a shoulder.

  “It’s a surprise, but I’m told it’s your favourite.”

  “Let me guess… Izzy?”

  “Yeah. She was forthcoming this morning in helping me with things you might like.”

  “Hmm, I can see that.”

  “You two seem like great friends?” he says, giving me a sideways glance.

  “The best.” I raise both brows and smile. We are the best of friends, but I’m slightly hesitant right now as to where the bloody hell she has told him to take me.

  It doesn’t take long for us to pull up outside a restaurant in town. The bright, flashing light outside catches my attention immediately.

  “We’re here,” he says, turning off the engine.

  “We sure are.” I smile flatly.

  “Everything alright?”

  “Yep.” I try my best to sound enthusiastic – after all it’s not his fault we’ve ended up at the ‘Fishy Plaice.’ I’m seriously going to kill that girl when I get home. This is beyond a joke now. She knows damn well I have an aversion to crustaceans.

  “Alright. Let’s go in then.” He jumps out, and before I have a chance to pull at the handle, my door is already wide open and ready for me to get out. If nothing else, he has manners. It’s sweet.

  Until we make it inside and see all the crabs snapping away in the tank in the foyer.

  I hate crabs. I’ve never even been able to swim in the sea for my phobia of all things slimy and scaly. Part of me wants to sidestep back towards the exit, but as I move a heel, I bump into the side of Max, who gently places his hand on my arm and offers a reassuring beam. It’s warm and charming, a gracious type of affection I’ve never been privy to before. My panic seems to fade away as quickly as it came.

  “Good evening, Sir. Do you have a reservation?” the host asks from behind a desk.

  “Good evening. Table for two under the name of Colton,” Max answers.

  I just stand by his side and keep offering people awkward smiles. Just like my date is different, so is this restaurant. The types Izzy and I occasionally go to are high street, run of the mill sorts of restaurants, but this place is something else – from the gold-plated finishes right up to the glass chandeliers. There’s a whole wall made up of champagne bottles covered by a shiny glass front. I’m pretty certain I won’t score my usual pint of cider in this ‘plaice.’

  When we are directed to the table, the waiter pulls my chair out for me to take a seat. I sit down, mumbling a quick thank you, and keep my jacket close to my body as I slip my arms out. Noticing how everyone around me is dressed makes me feel like a fish out of water. This isn’t my ideal choice at all, but Max seems to be making such an effort, I don’t have the heart just to walk out. While my eyes gaze across the long, large menu in front of me, there are too many words I don’t recognise or know what the hell they are.

  “What would you like to drink, Paris?”

  The easiest option falls from my mouth. “Whatever you’re having.”

  “I’m having a beer.” He grins.

  “Beer sounds perfect.” I sigh with relief.

  “See anything you like?”

  “Well…” I frantically search for something I know. “I think I’ll have the same as you. I like surprises,” I lie. I hate them, but what choice have I got? Appear dumb or tell a little white one to make it through.

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I nod nervously.

  When the waiter comes back, Max orders for us both. As our beers come and we sip away, I struggle for anything to say to him. I’m not usually so lost for words, but this restaurant feels suffocating. All I want to do is dart my eyes around the room and people watch. It’s loud with everyone chatting away, and I find it hard to think straight. It puts me on edge, and I find it hard to let go and just be myself.

  “So you’re an architect, right? How’s that going these days?”

  “It’s work, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

  “I love drawing, sketching actually, but working for my dad has its problems.” He ruffles his fingers through his short, brown hair.

  “I can imagine.” I hold my glass just by my mouth. “Although I’d give anything to work with mine.” Then I take a long swig.

  “I heard about your dad, I’m so sorry about that. It must have been tough.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  The waiter brings over our first course just at the right time. He places the plate down in front of me and my hand automatically flies to my mouth. I can’t quite believe the sight in front of me.

  I lean forward slightly and whisper to Max, “What the hell is this?”

  He leans forward too, whispering back, “Escargot. Is something wrong?”

  “Es- car-what-now? It looks like freaking snails to me.”

  “That’s exactly what it is. You said to order the same. We can send it back if you don’t like it.”

  I somehow manage to speak through a gip. “You ordered me a plate of snails?”

  “I’m sorry, Paris. We can get it changed. Let me sort it.” He sits straight and waves his hand in the air.

  Sat staring at the little blighters, I start to feel the walls cave in on me. The ringing becomes loud in my ears and I realise I have to get out of this place. It’s not me. It’s not who I am, and I hate trying to be something I’m not. Reaching for my jacket, I sweep it from the back of my chair and quickly stand.

  “I have to go. I have to get out of here.” I push my chair back and rush away from the table.

  “No, wait. Paris!” Max shouts and strides towards me, taking my elbow in his hand.

  “I can’t.” I shake my head. “It was nice to meet you, Max, but the all this…” I glance around. “It’s not me. I’m sorry.”

  He laughs. “It’s not me either. I only brought you here because Izzy said you liked fish.”

  I tug my arm away and snap, “Well I don’t like fish. I don’t like Creme Eggs and right now, I’m having a hard time liking my best friend!”

  “Please, wait.” He pulls on my arm again and my eyes wander from his hand up to his face. “Just let me settle the bill and we can do something else. Anything you want. Your choice.”

  I can suddenly feel people’s eyes burning a curious hole in our backs. If nothing but to avoid creating any more of a scene, I reluctantly agree. “Fine. I’ll wait outside.”

  The cool, spring evening air hits me as soon as I leave the building and I frantically pull at the zip on my jacket to cover up. There are plenty of people milling about in the streets of Manchester, the streetlights providing only a fraction of the light needed to be able to see their faces properly. So many people come and go around this busy city, and sometimes, I’m still reminded of what exactly lurks behind the dark corners and hidden walls. The man stood in that restaurant is nothing like the man sat behind prison bars, and no matter how freaked out I get, I have to be fair to Max. He’s been nothing but a gentleman and he doesn’t deserve me snapping at him. It’s just hard to control the overwhelming waves of panic. Some things never disappear. They just get easier to control with time, and unfortunately, I struggled this time.

  “Look what I got.” Max shakes a bottle of champagne in his hand as he strolls towards me. “Peace offering for the snails.”

  A small snicker escapes me, my hand reaching out to take it from him. “It’s a start…”

  “It’s a good start.” He places his hands back in his pocket
s and rocks on his feet. “So, Paris, where would you like to eat tonight?”

  “Do you know what I could really eat right now?”

  “What?”

  “A large box of popcorn chicken, large fries and a side order of baked beans.”

  “KFC?”

  “Absolutely. But please...” I hold up a finger. “No chicken wings. Another dislike of mine – meat on the bone. No jokes necessary.”

  “Alright.” He laughs. “KFC it is, but no ordering of the one thing they are famous for.”

  “Mock away, dude. I’m not the one who got pissed on by a dog.”

  He feigns a fall and grasps at his chest. “You wound me deeply, Paris.”

  I bite back my laughter. “Just get in the car.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He salutes.

  It’s nice to finally see this playful side of him. It’s just a shame it took a disastrous date to get to this point. This side of him I like. We continue to drive through the streets, eating chicken and drinking champagne from the bottle, or should I say, I do all the drinking. We talk about ourselves a little and laugh a lot. In fact, when we arrive back at Casa, I think I might be a little bit tipsy, judging by how far out of the window my bare feet are hanging.

  “This is me.” I fling a chip at his head.

  “Hey! Don’t be wasting chips.” He catches it and stuffs it into his mouth.

  “You’re lucky a chip is all I threw at your head tonight.” I slope across the chair lazily, dragging my feet back into the car.

  “And you will be lucky not to have a cold tomorrow,” he says with genuine concern.

  “Eh.” I waft my hand in front of my face. “I’ll be fine, and even if I do, I think my best friend owes me a bowl of tomato soup with bread soldiers.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that one. I honestly don’t know what happened there.”

  “Don’t worry, Max. I think I have a good idea.” I rock my body forwards to grab at my heels from the foot well at the same time as my shoulder falls into the door.

  “Whoa, let me get that for you,” Max says quickly, clutching at my shoes and making his way round to my side of the door to let me out.

  “I got it,” I slur.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Noooooooo, I am not.”

  “Yes. You are,” he insists.

  “Maybe just a teeny, weeny, tiny bit.”

  “What was that? Did I just see Betty twitch her curtain?”

  I practically shove him aside to look. “What? Where?”

  Max cracks up laughing.

  “Ha ha, Maximus. Very funny.”

  “I don’t get why you’re so bothered about the old lady next door.”

  “You’d understand if you met her.” I sway my way towards the house and start to question just how drunk I am.

  “Can you hear music?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he answers. “It sounds like that Ed guy.”

  “Sheeran?”

  “Yeah. Him.”

  “Ohhh, man.” I sigh. “That’s not a good sign. If Izzy is listening to him then she really is down.”

  “I hope she’s ok,” he says, seeming genuinely worried.

  “Me, too.” I stop just outside the front door where the music seems much louder. “I’d best get inside and see what’s wrong, but thanks for tonight, it was…”

  “A disaster?”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not a total disaster then.” He chuckles.

  “The chicken saved your arse.”

  “Will this save me, too?” Before I have a chance to react, he’s pulling me flush towards his body and starts to sway in time to the music. “Dance with me, Paris.”

  It’s one of those moments where many witty remarks are flying through my mind, but none of them seem appropriate to say because Max is being sincere. There’s no underlying tone to his voice or anything seedy in the way he holds me, and his body is so warm and firm. I relax into him, for once going with the flow and staying quiet. My eyes fall shut with contentment and I struggle to remember the last time I felt so relaxed in a man’s arms. It’s a strange, new feeling for me, but one that my body seems willing to embrace. All thoughts of Izzy being upset leave my mind as Max and I continue to dance under the midnight stars. The date didn’t start out that great, but I have to admit, it’s the perfect ending.

  Thirty-Nine

  20th April 2014

  It’s incredible how much things can change in the space of forty-eight hours. Somehow, news has got back to Wayne that I went on a date, and boy did the tables turn. He made his feelings more than clear over the phone about how concerned he is for me and how he doesn’t want to see me get hurt. Funny that, because he wasn’t looking at things from that point of view when he was the one leading me down the wrong path with all his flirting. I’m all for ignoring him, when the strangest thing happens. I find a cardboard box on the doorstep with a card addressed to me attached.

  Paris, someone told me rabbits symbolise comfort. This is my comfort to you that one day, we'll be together. Look after him for me until that time arrives. Wayne.

  And there I was thinking they just stood for sexual activity. When I open the box, right there inside is this fluffy, white thing, cowering in the corner. The dumb shit has only gone and bought me a rabbit. He clearly misunderstood when I said I needed a new one. On its collar is a tag with the name ‘Trix’ etched on. They say you can go off people, and at that moment, I realise just how much of a hypocrite Wayne is. He never liked me; he just likes the idea of being chased. Despite not asking for another bloody pet, I decide there and then to keep Trix, if for no other reason than what she now represents; a memory and a warning to never chase someone out of my reach again.

  If nothing else, when I show Izzy, it makes her howl. It’s a great icebreaker to get us talking again over why she has been so down over Ethan and to ease my anger over her practical jokes with Max. We both apologised. I should have told her the truth sooner and she shouldn’t have played her childish pranks on me. I think she knows what happened between Ethan and I meant nothing, but she’s having trouble getting her head around the fact that someone she might like, once slept with her best friend. I would probably feel the same if it was the other way around. It’s always been a rule of ours – never share men, but technically Ethan was never mine. I never had any feelings for him in that respect and when I see him now, all I see is a friend. I’ve done my best to encourage her. He is one of the good ones, despite his history, and all I can do now is hope that she can push her fears of getting hurt aside and take a chance on him.

  On that thought, I’m doing something I very rarely do and listening to my advice. Max rang me and asked me out on a second date to which I said yes. In the words of Izzy Moffit, ‘Let’s create our very own Wonderland’, and that’s what I intend to do. If I don’t go, I’ll never know if the warm-hearted feeling he leaves me with is just from kindness I’ve never experienced or whether it’s something more. There’s no denying he’s an incredibly attractive guy. When he tugs at his hair, I almost want to bat his hand away and do it for him. There’s a physical attraction, but I’ve learnt from experience that there has to be more. He is sweet and funny, but there’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  I know he’s pulled up outside when I hear the familiar roar of his Audi. The noise alone has me squealing with excitement as I jump up, grab my coat, shout goodbye to Mav and hurry on down the garden path. Today, I’ve gone for a more practical, relaxed look – jeans, chucks and a t-shirt. As soon as I spot Max, I’m relieved that he’s had the same idea. He’s looking rather ravishing in his checked shirt and jeans.

  “Hey, you.” I smile pulling my hair from under the collar of my jacket and out over my shoulders.

  “Hey, yourself. Glad to see you’ve recovered from the hangover.” He smiles back.

  “I have, thank God. I didn’t realise I was so drunk, but then again, I did need it, after all.” I cock a brow knowing
he knows what I mean.

  “You’re never going to let me forget it, are you?” He leans back against his car, crossing one leg over the other.

  “Nope. Not a chance. Unlessssss…”

  “Uh oh. I’m not sure I like this unless.”

  “Unless, you let me drive your lady friend. Then maybe all will be forgotten.” I beam big.

  His face drops a little at the same time his hand falters slightly from where he had it placed on his elbow. The deliberation on his face is funny to watch.

  “You w-want to drive my c-car?”

  “Hell yeah, I want to drive it! I told you I have a love for all things powerful, Maxy,” I tease him, flicking at his chin.

  “You do realise no one else has ever driven her, right?”

  “Maybe it’s about time someone did then.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He nods, reluctantly.

  “Yeah?” I squeal, jiggling my legs on the spot.

  “I guess,” he states flatly, holding the keys up in front of him. I ignore his hesitation and swipe them from his hand fast.

  “Come on, Maxy. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  I leap forward and kiss his cheek as he scratches his head. “Right… Yeah… Adventure. Crap.”

  I laugh. “Did you just say crap?”

  “Shit, did I?” He grins as he climbs into the passenger side of the car.

  Laughing, I start the engine on his car and get far too giddy at the vibrations on my seat. “You ready for this, Maxy?” Strapping my belt into place, I stretch my arms out onto the steering wheel.

  “S-sure. Ready.” He nods weakly.

  I throw my head back and hit my foot on the accelerator, catching a glimpse of Max out of the corner of my eye as he grabs at his hair again. It’s a nervous twitch type of thing.

  “The rate you pull at that mop of yours, you’re gonna end up bald.”

  “Thanks for the advice. Just keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” Max shifts awkwardly in his seat. I’m not driving that badly. I’m in full control of his car so I can’t understand why he’s suddenly acting so on edge.