by L. Grubb
“Right, pour me a glass and start talking. I didn’t rush over looking like a moron to beat around the bush.” She charges into my flat and throws herself in the recliner, tossing her bag to the floor beside her.
“Sure, boss.” I laugh, heading to the kitchen that’s just off to the side of the living room. I grab a glass and a bottle of white wine and make myself comfortable on the sofa. This may take a while after all.
“I lost my V card last night,” I whisper into my glass. I feel the blush on my cheeks, the heat telling me it’s very much visible.
“Say fucking what, chica?” Isabella sits straight in the recliner, eyes wide and mouth popped open in shock.
“Yeah, Jase Carter,” I mumble, the name makes my knickers wet. He’s hot in all the right places and he knows what to do with his dick.
“No fucking way? Are you being serious right now? MMA fighter Jase Carter?” Isabella is on the edge of her seat hands clasped tightly on the arms of the chair.
“Jesus, Isa, of course I’m fucking serious! Can I actually get on with the story or are you going to keep interrupting?” I say, raising my eyebrows at her. She gets the hint and sits back, curling her feet underneath her.
“Continue.” She waves her hand in the air but I can see the fizzle of excitement in her eyes. I shake my head because she’s been waiting for the day I find a man to lose it too.
“Anyway, that was last night. Today, I went to the fire station to see Dan because he asked me to go see him… Well, he was out on a job and in the kitchen I found Jase.” I pause to take a breath because I don’t want to cry. “We had a… disagreement as such and Dan heard everything. And I mean, everything. He knows I’ve been with Jase and to say he wasn’t pleased would be an understatement. He started shouting shit at me until Jase stood in. Dan stormed off and now I have a date with Jase tomorrow night.”
Isabella just sits there in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You? You have a date?”
“Cause it’s so hard to believe that I can get a date, Isa. Seriously?” I glare at her because that’s just made me feel even more insecure. I wrap my arms around myself protectively and I feel a lone tear slip down my face.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean it like that, chica!” Isabella squeals, she’s by my side in an instant and she hugs me to her. “I swear; I did not mean that the way it sounded. You’re beautiful.” She strokes my hair as she whispers in my ear.
“I don’t know how to date, Isa! I’ve only been on a few and we know how disastrous they were. What the hell am I going to wear?” I start to panic because I have no idea where he’s taking me. How do I know if to where casual or smart? Classy or sexy?
“Have you got his number?” She asks, pushing on my shoulder to sit me back up.
“Yeah…” I give her a quizzical look. “Why?”
“Text him. Ask him where he’s taking you so you can figure out what to wear. Problem solved.” She winks at me and I curse myself for not thinking of doing that sooner.
Grabbing my phone from the coffee table in front of us, I open the text app and shoot off a text to him.
F: Where are we going tomoz night? Need 2 know what 2 wear. X
I tap my phone as I wait impatiently for the text back.
J: I’m taking you to Franchino’s. x
Oh my God, Franchino’s is one of the hardest Italian restaurants to get a booking at. Now I know I have to dress classy yet smart, maybe a little sexy to get Jase in the mood but nothing too risky because I’m not the smallest of people and can’t get away with shit like that.
“I see clarity in your eyes. You know what to wear now, right?” Isabella tilts her head to the side and smiles.
“Yup. I know exactly what to wear. Can you come over tomorrow to do my hair?” Isabella is a hair dresser and a fucking good one at that.
“You bet!” She pumps a fist in the air. You wouldn’t believe she’s the same age as me. She’s like a kid at Christmas over the smallest of things but it makes me love her all the more.
She tells me of all the gossip about our group of friends, we have a good laugh and shit load of wine before she stumbles from my front room and leaves the flat. God love her, she’s a freakin’ hoot to be around, a great person to cheer you up and keep you level headed and I’m the lucky girl to have her as a best friend.
The room is tilting slightly; I know I’m probably past the drunk stage so I try desperately to place one foot in front of another to get to my bedroom. Sleep sounds pretty good now the high of the evening has dissipated.
I’m sure I’ll regret this and curse the shit out of Isabella in the morning, but for now I bask in the happiness I feel seeping through my veins. My bed comes into sight and I hobble over, my eyes already closing at seeing the soft feather pillows.
The throbbing behind my eyelids is what wakes me the next morning, the beat of a bass drum is thrumming through my brain. Ugh, why did we drink two bottles of that wine instead of the just the intended one? I rarely get pissed enough not to remember stuff but I can just about remember the texts with Jase about tonight. Shit, tonight. I check the time on my phone. Eleven am; I never sleep this late even on my day off.
I groan as I roll out of bed and crawl slowly to the door and then down the hallway to my bathroom. My stomach rolls in waves and the need to puke overtakes me. I speed up my crawl and practically fall through the bathroom door and reach the toilet just in time. Ew, wine will never taste the fucking same again.
After my stomach has settled, the overwhelming need for a fry up takes over and my stomach grumbles loudly. Getting up from the cold floor, I check my appearance and almost scream at the state of me. Yesterday’s make up is smudged across my face, and my hair is like a bird’s nested in it.
I turn the dial for the shower and wait for it to heat up, getting a clean towel from above the vanity and placing it on the hook. The steam quickly fills the room and I strip out of yesterday’s clothes and hop in, relishing in the heat as it pummels on my skin. My hangover sort of slinks away and my head’s a little clearer.
I don’t spend long washing and detangling my hair, I have shit to do before my date tonight. That thought brings a smile to my face, excitement zings through my body. Hopefully, this date won’t be an epic disaster like my last one. Fuck, remembering that night makes me cringe. The physical repercussions from that one single event still haunt me to this very day. The only people that know about it is Isabella and the police.
The feeling of someone squeezing my lungs, my chest tightening has me leaning my back against the freezing cold tiles and fighting for breath. Panic attacks are a regular occurrence in my life as of recently and it’s something I’m learning to control. With a few deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth calms me down and the fuzzy feeling in my hands starts to dissolve into a numb feeling.
The tears streaming down my face are quickly washed away by the spray of the shower that’s still spitting hot water down at me. Once I feel I have myself completely under control, I finish washing and turn the dial to off before stepping from the shower on the fluffy rug and wrapping the towel I had hung up around me.
Still shaken, I make my way back to my bedroom to dress in yoga pants and a tank. Something comfy to lounge about in before tonight. Jase flits through my mind and my core tightens, remembering the way he thrust into me. Damn, the guy is so hot that he could be on an issue of a Men’s Health magazine. What the hell does he see in me? I know of his reputation; I’ve done my research but my vagina wants another round. Maybe it will maybe it won’t; it all depends on the night ahead.
I make myself a cheese sandwich and get comfortable on the sofa, ready for a round with Jax in Sons of Anarchy. Now that’s one man I would never kick out of bed for farting, that’s for sure.
The letterbox banging against the wood of the door rouses me from a nap I never intended to have. I check the time and swear under my breath before jumping up and opening. Isabella raises a brow
at me, looks me up and down at my attire with a disapproving glare. “Chica, why the hell are you not dressed already?”
“I fell asleep on the sofa.” I shrug a shoulder in indifference and leave her to let herself in. “I’ll go dress. Set up the shit you need to and I won’t take long.”
I honestly won’t take long because I’ll do my make-up after my hair, it’s kind of like a ritual of good luck… it never works but I do it anyway.
Opening my wardrobe, I seek out the classy yet sexy, backless dress which is shoved right in the corner. I smell it to make sure it smells clean and check it for moth balls. I can’t even remember the last time I wore this or if I ever did. But there’s no back, it goes halfway down my thighs. There’s a diamond shape missing around my navel showing off my belly ring and my cleavage will be generous. There’s a small chain that goes over the left hip side of the dress that finishes at my lower back. It’s exquisite and the most expensive dress I own.
I undress quickly, kicking my clothes to the corner of the room and slip the dress over my head and tug it down. It hugs me like a second skin and I can’t decide whether I feel like a million dollars or a fat gremlin. Great thing about Isabella? She’s one hundred percent honest.
Sighing, I leave the confines of my bedroom and go back to the den where Isabella is bent over fiddling around with shit in her bag. She’s cursing in Spanish and it makes me snort.
“Something… Whoa…“ She stands straight and gapes at me, mouth open and all. “You look hot, chica! I don’t think you’ve ever looked so amazing!”
“You sure I don’t look like a fat heffa?” I glance down at myself, double checking that I have shaved my legs. Looking good. Hell, it feels like I’ve lost weight but that’s probably because this dress is hugging me tightly.
“No, you stupid cow, you don’t. Now sit in this chair so I can work wonders on that gorgeous hair of yours.” She pats my butt as she passes to grab the brush she left on the arm of the chair.
I sit carefully, not wanting to catch the chain on the back. “What style are you thinking?”
“Leave it with me, chica. I’ll make you look like a Hollywood superstar.” She smiles at me, her eyes twinkling before she rounds the chair and starts brushing through my hair. My lashes flutter closed, relaxed. There’s nothing better than someone playing with your hair. I let her do it whenever I feel the urge to stick my middle finger up at my new boss.
Fuck knows how much time passes, but she exclaims with a squeal, “All done!”
She presents her handy pocket mirror and I examine myself. I’m speechless. My hair is in a messy yet stylish up do with tendrils of curls framing my face. Little flowers are placed around the style and I think Isabella has truly outdone herself this time. “Wow.”
“Exactly. Now, go put your face on. Jase will be here in twenty minutes.” She starts packing all her shit into her travel case and I rush to the bathroom. Twenty minutes isn’t a very long time and I swear under my breath. Shit, I really don’t want to mess this up.
Foundation, concealer, blush, eyeliner, smoky eyeshadow to compliment the dress and mascara, all done and I feel pretty good about myself. I take a selfie and save it, loving this new look.
“Frankie? He’s here!” she shouts down the hallway. Damn, if he’s in the flat then I hope to God my bestie isn’t embarrassing the shit out of me. I know what she’s like.
Taking a deep breath, I leave the confines of my bathroom and walk down the hallway to find Jase stood in the centre of my living room, hands in his trouser pockets casually. The suit he’s wearing hugs him perfectly, the navy pinstriped tie brings out the colour in his eyes and the shirt a crisp pale blue. The jacket and trousers are black and he looks fucking delicious. I have to pick my jaw up off the floor because who knew Jase could clean up so well? From firefighter to MMA, to smart. It’s like he has different personalities.
“You look stunning, Frankie.” His eyes travel the length of me and the need to clench my thighs together has my legs quaking.
“Thank you. Not so bad yourself.” The corners of my mouth lift up in a smile as he looks down at himself.
“Glad to know that you think I’m stunning as opposed to handsome.” He winks at me before holding his hand out. “Shall we?”
I nod, and walk to him. The spark, the energy and the connection ignites as my palm slides into his and a gasp escapes my mouth before I have a chance to hold it back. The smirk on his face tells me he heard it, so I narrow my eyes in warning.
“Bye, guys! I’ll lock up after myself, chica.” She’s clapping her hands like a complete twat and I laugh whilst shaking my head from side to side. She’s eccentric and loud and I love her for it.
We walk down the one flight of stairs and the limo that sits outside has my jaw hitting the floor for the second time in one night. “Um…” Speechless, that’s what I am right now.
“I wanted this night to be amazing, special… yeah.” He stumbles over his words and he kicks at a stone on the pavement. “We’re going to Franchino’s after all, we may as well arrive in style, right?”
“I’ve never been in a limo before,” I whisper as I stare at the shiny black paint of the stretch limo as it idles on the road. I’m in awe, I’m gobsmacked and I feel so many emotions at once that I want to cry. I won’t, I’m not going to walk into the most sought after restaurants in the city looking like a hot mess.
“After you.” Jase opens the door for me and ushers me in with a wave of his hand. I climb in, as ladylike as possible considering the skin tight dress I’m wearing and scoot over to make room for him.
The inside is just as amazing. The chilled champagne and two glasses sat in a cooler attach to the side, the black cushiony carpet lines the whole of the vehicle in the back, and there’s a sound system dock station attached to the side as well. This is truly stunning. I never thought the inside would look as awesome as this. I always thought they’d be tacky on the inside. This is all glamour and way out of my comfort zone but it’s not like I’m ever going to go in one again.
“Champagne?” Jase asks, startling me. I stop swirling a finger on the cool leather seat and nod my head. When was the last time I had real champers? I don’t think I ever have to be honest.
“Thank you,” I say as he passes me a chute full to the brim of bubbly liquid. Taking a sip, I moan at the taste as the bubbles explode in my mouth. “This is good shit.”
He chuckles beside me at hearing me curse. I may be dressed like a lady but it doesn’t mean I’ll act like one when my mouth opens that’s for sure. “You can really swear like sailor; you know that right?”
“Of course I do. I know you don’t give a fuck so why should I? I’m keeping it real tonight, buddy.” I clink my glass against his with a cheeky smile on my face.
“Good, because there is nothing worse than a bitch that’s fake.” My heart drops. Bitch?
“Excuse me? Bitch?” My eyes are as wide as saucers and I can feel the sizzle of anger below the surface.
“Shit. No, princess, that’s not what I meant, I swear. Around the ring at fights they have ring bitches and it’s a habit that I let slip by accident. You are far from a bitch. I promise I don’t see you like that.” His words tumble out in one rushed breath and his crestfallen face makes me soften immediately.
“It’s okay.” I place my spare hand on his which is resting on his bobbing leg and it stills as he looks at our hands. “I can be a bitch and I embrace it.” I wink at him for good measure, pat his hand and slide my palm away.
“You make me laugh, I have to say.” He openly stares at me with a dimply grin on his face, very boyish yet charmingly handsome. “You always say what I least expect of you.”
“That’s me. Totally unpredictable and a barrel of laughs.” My smile is wide and genuine when I face him. Any woman in their right mind would feel giddy in his presence, me included. His natural olive, tanned, skin and gleaming white teeth, the multitude of tattoos that I know cover him and his sparkli
ng eyes make my belly flutter with those butterflies’ people talk about and the apex of my thighs grows an uncontrollable ache where all my blood rushes south.
We travel the rest of the way, shoulder to shoulder, in comfortable silence. I have noticed that he’s moved his hand to my thigh, the heat beneath almost making me jump his bones and ride him like a pony. If we were travelling another couple of minutes, I probably would have.
He climbs from the limo first and holds out a hand to help me out. “Ah, Jase the gentleman, any other personalities to add?”
“What the fuck are you on about, princess?” he asks as I link my arm with his and we make our way to the brass handed, glass doors at the front of the restaurant. He opens the door and ushers me in with a hand of the back and before I can form a reply a Maître d’ lady at a podium, dressed in a three piece, logoed suit and bow tie asks us the name of the reservation.
Jase sorts through all that I take in the opulence of the room. This place screams wealth; there’s a grand piano on a platform in the corner with an older gentleman playing a relaxing version of Beethoven, the tables are round with white and gold linen draped over, a candle and a single red rose sits in the middle and three different sets of cutlery surround what seems to be fine china plates. The bar is lined against the wall with the kitchen, I imagine, through a set of double doors. The carpet is white with a hint of gold and many chandeliers hang from the mosaic type ceiling. This place is amazing, awe-inspiring even. The muted lighting from the chandeliers gives off the romantic feel.
The woman leads the way as Jase’s hand pushes me along with his hand just above my arse. We’re seated in the front corner by the window with the least amount of light and Jase pulls my chair out for me to sit down. I smile my thanks at him as he rounds the table and seats himself. The Maître d’ rattles off the specials which I couldn’t understand and handed us the black menus. She asks for our drink order where Jase stepped up again and ordered some champers.
