London Bound

by Amy Daws

  This is just so inherently me that I could laugh. I could laugh, but I won’t. It’s too pitiful. I know one thing for sure in this moment—I sure as shit can never face that Theo guy ever again.

  ***

  CHAPTER ONE

  PRESENT DAY: 6 Months Later

  FINLEY & BRODY’S WEDDING:

  Watching my best friend Finley walk down a beach isle in a wedding dress on the coast of Mexico is blowing my freaking mind. Mind. Officially. Blown.

  Two words come to mind…cat lady.

  Behold, Lez…your future with cats has now been secured. My best friend is leaving me in the dust and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  Finny and I have spoken in great lengths about her issues with marriage. She was always bragging on and on about how hot her sex life was with Brody when they were living together in Kansas City. She was once certain that marriage would just ruin everything they had going for them. I sure as heck wasn’t going to correct her. I loved Finny as my partner in crime. We broke the mold together in our Podunk small town of Marshall, Missouri. This was my best friend.

  And now she is getting married before my very eyes. Cats…so many cats.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love Brody, Finley’s chosen suitor. And I think proposing was the best thing he could do to snap Finley out of her ridiculously selfish bullshit. She arrived in London over six months ago, tear stricken, sad, and broken-hearted, telling me she wasn’t going back to KC. A small part of me…scratch that…a LARGE part of me, wanted to jump for joy. My best friend moving to London meant having a piece of home with me! It was great news.

  But I knew the special relationship she and Brody had wasn’t something everyone found. Hell, I don’t know a single person that has the beautiful shit that they have. Saying I love us is their own personal endearment to each other. It’s sickeningly adorable. Almost as cute as my future cats will be.

  And now they’ve gone and wrecked everything. Getting married. Pff. There goes the neighborhood. A loud sniff distracts me from my far away thoughts. I glare at the guilty culprit.

  “Frank, you better get your shit together! You’re a dude for Christ sake,” I bite at him, embarrassed at the spectacle he’s making at my best friend’s wedding.

  “That’s quite nearly the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, Lezbo.” He looks at me with a horrified expression. “You know better. I hate associating with the male species. They are all barbaric arses…hot, sexy arses, but barbaric all the same.”

  I roll my eyes and straighten his coral bowtie. Frank was in the middle of yet another tumultuous breakup. I don’t think it had even been six months since the last one and he’d already found another to crush his spirits.

  “I can’t believe Finley’s getting married,” I whisper to no one in particular.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t wear underwear to Finley’s wedding,” Frank whispers, turning his shocked, brown eyes on me.

  I cut him a mean glare and reach up to ruffle his tall red hair because I know it’ll piss him off. I pull my hand back, dramatically clutching it to my chest. “Ouch, Frank! What the hell kind of product do you have in that hair? I think it drew blood!” I shout in a whisper.

  Frank smirks wickedly, delicately coifing his tall rooster-red puff of hair on top of his head. “That will teach you to try to ruffle a lion’s mane,” he states deadpan.

  I giggle and turn my attention back to Finley and Brody, sighing quietly. Damn they look happy.

  “Stop looking so glum, Lezzie. This is supposed to be a happy day.” Frank drapes his long, slender arm around the back of my chair and rubs my shoulder soothingly.

  I shake my head, attempting to clear my thoughts. Frank’s right. Jesus, what’s the matter with me? Finley’s my best friend—this is a wonderful day for her. I need to be happy!

  And she’s stunning standing up there. And tall. Fuck she is so tall. Lucky bitch. Everything looks good on her. I’m a designer so I know how great clothes look on tall, curvy bods—and how dull they look on short, stumpy averages like me.

  I mean. I’m not ugly. I can afford myself that raving compliment. I’m not entirely delusional. My green eyes are interesting because they have a tendency to change colors on me, which I find fun…from a purely fashionable standpoint. They are like a cool, unique accessory that plays nicely with my crazy clothing choices. But that’s about where my uniqueness stops. My body is average at best.

  I’m only five-foot-five and have very minimal curves. I like my hair for the most part I guess. It’s a deep auburn color and super thick. It used to trail long down my back, but when I moved overseas, I did the unthinkable and chopped it into a super-short bob with pixie bangs. It was an extreme difference, but I needed it. It felt rebellious and bold. Cutting my hair felt like I was metaphorically cementing my big move across the pond. Makes tons of sense, right? I thought so too.

  My bob has grown out considerably now. Even my bangs need to be cut. I have to swoop them dramatically off to the side because they are constantly getting in my eyes. I didn’t really let it all grow out on purpose. Life just got kind of crazy when Finley moved into our house.

  Regardless of my lack of enthusiasm for my looks, I do a fine job feigning confidence with my outspoken mouth and unapologetic sense of humor.

  I genuinely smile as the pastor instructs them to exchange rings. Finley’s trembling hands and glowing smile are warming my frosty heart. At least I don’t have to say goodbye to Finley now that both of them have decided to stay in London and continue living with us. Thankfully, Brody is pretty badass and totally understands our crazy, eccentric friendship. He’s never once appeared annoyed or judgmental of our crazy antics.

  “…I’ll do whatever it takes to continue making you…and us…happy in our marriage. And I promise to be honest and open with you for the rest of my life. I love you,” Finley says, her voice cracking at the end. Oh fuck me, now they’ve gone and done it. I inhale a shaky breath and quickly swipe away my tears, sniffing loudly and silently praying I don’t have to dig in my clutch for a tissue.

  Brody wipes tears out of his eyes too, somehow managing to make it look manly and sexy. Bugger it all to hell, my best friend is really getting married. Finley getting married and joining the army of traditionalists is essentially just a big, fat nail in my fashionable coffin.

  I shake my head slightly knowing full well that I’m never getting married. Even if I wanted to get married, it wouldn’t matter. Guys don’t date the funny, eccentric girls. They sure as hell don’t marry them. I can’t even get laid properly!

  I shudder as my first sexual encounter in years invades my thoughts and distracts me from listening to Brody’s beautiful vows. It was horrid and awkward—and in public for Christ’s sake! Climaxing on a guy’s leg in the middle of a nightclub is definitely one for the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not: Pervert Edition record books.

  Theo was his name. Tiiiiits. I couldn’t forget that name if I wanted to. It happened six bloody months ago and is still burned into the mortification vortex of my brain that fires off any time I try to act like I have an ounce of cool factor. What a mess I am.

  If only I had successfully dodged him for good that night. Only with my luck would the bastard, Theo, show up at a bloody house party Frank and I were throwing just a couple weeks after said incident!

  ***

  CHAPTER TWO

  5 Months Earlier

  TARTS & VICARS PARTY:

  I squat down in my tiny little outfit, not giving a shit who can see up my skirt at the moment. This is a Tarts and Vicars party for crying out loud. We’re all dressed like hookers and clergymen. The point of it all is to look like a fool! At least I’m wearing underwear tonight.

  “Here’s to the wound that never heals, the more you rub it…the better it feels. All the soap this side of hell, won’t wash away that fishy smell,” my roommate, Mitch, toasts and takes a quick drink. We all stare wide-eyed and deathly silent at his girlfriend Julie, wai
ting for the definite rapture coming Mitch’s way.

  “Wait, what?” Julie says, cocking her head seriously. “I don’t get it.”

  We all erupt into riotous laughter. Julie lives here too and is always so sweet and innocent. Mitch is always sulky and quiet, so to see him tease Julie in such a manner and she’s not even getting it, is way too much. I could die at the hilarity of this scene right now. And then seeing Frank out-of-control laughing in his ridiculous pope costume is like comedy overload!

  I stand up, wiping tears from my eyes, finally feeling like I’ve regained control of myself. My gaze follows Finley as she moves towards the dining room to greet our new guests that just walked in.

  It is in that briefest of seconds that I see him. My heart plummets to the floor at the sight of who Finley is talking to. Theo.

  Holy fucking fuckity-fuck. How in the hell…?

  My eyes bug out of my head and refuse to blink as I mindlessly take a huge swallow of my boozy punch. When his gaze collides with mine, I know I’m fucked. I’m fucked right up the ass right now. I want to look away and run and hide but my stupid, insolent body won’t listen.

  Leg Boy is here. Not the most creative name I could give a man who somehow miraculously pleasured me on a public dance floor at a posh nightclub, but there it is.

  Okay, okay, his name is Theo. I remember his bloody name but I’m doing my damnedest to forget. He is standing next to Liam, the sexy bloke Finley met at Shay Nightclub a couple weeks ago. Theo barely acknowledges the introduction Liam is attempting to give Finley. He suddenly moves them aside and comes storming over to me. His eyes look positively murderous, every muscle in his tight body is rigid and tense. Good Lord, he looks pissed as hell!

  He reaches out and grabs my arm. Not roughly, but not sweetly either. It feels urgent. Desperate. He pulls me off to the side of the kitchen away from the pack of people. “Are you bloody kidding me right now?” He seethes with a huge huff of air.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I reply and glance down at his hand gripping my elbow.

  His eyes flutter downward and he looks taken aback at finding his hand on me. He quickly releases my arm and softly rubs the area he had been holding so urgently before. I nervously adjust my white filmy top that purposefully shows off my red lacey bra. It’s a Tarts and Vicars theme party, why am I feeling self-conscious all of a sudden?

  “Are you seriously here, standing in front of me right now?” His eyes flash across my face like he’s still confirming that it’s really me.

  “I uhh, I don’t even know your name,” I say, because I’m a dick and have no clue what the hell else to say right now. God, I want him to say he must have the wrong girl and walk away so incredibly bad right now.

  “I’m Theo. I told you that night. You don’t even fucking remember? I’m going to…fuuuuck,” he aggressively rubs the top of his short buzzed hair and lets out a loud huff of air.

  I shake my head, nervously looking over at Finley eyeing our exchange cautiously. “Okay, I remember you, alright? I just...” Okay, I need to extinguish this guy’s flames before he blows a gasket.

  “You’re Leslie,” he adds, like he’s trying to remind me.

  “I know my damn name, okay?” I snap. Jesus, now what? What’s he want from me? Is he expecting me to tip my head and say, ‘Thanks for the leg hump kind sir. It was the first time I’d cum in years!’

  “Um, this is really uncomfortable. How are you here right now?” I ask, looking back into his light brown eyes. They suddenly look sad and desolate.

  “I’m here with Liam.”

  “I see that, is he your friend or something?”

  “Yeah, we’re best mates.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re bloody standing right in front of me. How are you here right now?” he asks, repeating my question back to me.

  “I live here,” I shrug, unable to tear my eyes away from his pale brown gaze.

  He shakes off his stunned expression. “You live here.” He pauses, regrouping. “What happened to you that night?”

  A warmth creeps up my neck and I know I’m blushing like crazy. This can’t be happening. I can’t be facing the man I mortified myself on top of in public. I bite my lip, instantly tasting my lipstick. I quickly release it worrying over making a mess of my makeup. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

  “You didn’t come back. You just…” he starts, but I interrupt before he can finish.

  “What did you want? A fucking thank you card?” I bite at him quietly, feeling my inner redheaded temper flare. Why does he give a flying fuck?

  “Oh sod off,” he barks and I’m instantly knocked down a peg by the brooding storm flaring in his eyes. “Answer me. I need to know why you just left…” Theo stops as Finley approaches and puts her arm around me protectively.

  “Hey!” she says, brightly, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “You guys know each other?” Liam is standing next to her looking just as confused.

  Theo turns and scowls at me while nodding a silent answer to Finley. I turn and look at her with wide, urgent eyes. I’m trying to ESP-talk with her right now so she gets me out of this situation. After what feels like hours of Finley not getting my damn message, I gesture my head toward the dining room and beckon her to follow me. Her perplexed expression infuriates me as I finally grab her arm and yank her away from the guys.

  Before we can get too far, Theo grabs my arm and hits me with another intense killer stare, like he’s not going to let me pass. This just pisses me off so I pierce him with a don’t-fuck-with-me look. Liam breaks the tension between us by placing a hand on Theo’s chest.

  “Let the ladies chat, Theo,” Liam says, gently pushing Theo back. “C’mon mate, there’s beer in the fridge.”

  I stumble hurriedly toward the dining room attached to the kitchen, pulling Finley haphazardly behind me. I bulldoze through the dining room, through the foyer and into the living room on the opposite side. I give her an exasperated look because the music is way too loud, so I lead us down the attached hallway and into the small bathroom.

  After Finley pulls out the entire story of me having a dance-gasm on Theo’s leg, she has a riotous laugh at my expense. I feel even more mortified than I did before. Typically I don’t embarrass easily, but cumming on a bloke’s leg in the middle of a club happens to be my one exception.

  ***

  CHAPTER THREE

  Present Day

  FINLEY & BRODY’S WEDDING cont.

  “Christ, her dress is fucking gorg. I’m so glad we helped Finley. She’d probably be up there in one of her nasty Uni-sweatshirts and denim shorts,” Frank whispers into my ear and I giggle, taking in the sheer beauty of Finley’s wedding dress. Angela elbows me coarsely.

  “Don’t make me separate you two.” She smiles playfully, leaning forward to eyeball us both in our chairs. Mark stretches out and throws his arm lazily around Angela, sweetly massaging her shoulder.

  Frank glances over at Mark’s hand on Angela’s shoulder. “You may not want to let him do that to you, Angela. We were both in the loo earlier and I know for a fact he didn’t wash his hands. The knob.”

  I stifle a cackle as Angela’s jaw drops in disgust. The hate/hate relationship that Frank and Mark have developed in the few days we’ve all been hanging out together in Mexico is ludicrous, but extremely entertaining.

  For some odd reason, as soon as we landed in Mexico, they declared each other mortal enemies. It may have had something to do with the fact that Mark was convinced Frank was one of the Weasley twins from the Harry Potter movies and attempting to conceal his identity. Apparently being rich, redheaded, and British means there is no other possibility in Mark’s eyes. For the first three days they bickered about it constantly, like an old married couple.

  I’ve only met Mark once, briefly, back when I was visiting Finley in college. Angela was Finley’s college roommate all four years so I saw her several times before I moved overseas my junior year. Ma
rk was Brody’s roommate and all of them lived in the same apartment complex senior year. It was quite cute actually. Two roommates, dating two roommates. Mark gave off a kind of bizarre first impression with these weird questions he throws out randomly. He never wanted you to answer them…he just wanted to ask them and answer them himself. He reminded me of Zack Galifianakis, but way cuter, and with less hair—and in no way chubby. Honestly, he and Angela are a freaking gorgeous couple. Makes me green with envy.

  Apparently, Frank doesn’t find Mark as funny as I do though. Mark leans forward and cuts Frank a nasty glare. “Question: is urine non-sterile but also non-toxic? Answer: Yes.”

  Frank and I both frown at Mark and Angela mirrors our disturbed expression. I have no clue what he just said, but either way, it didn’t sound good. He shrugs his shoulders, “My dick was clean. I’d just showered.” We all blanch at his blatant admission.

  Angela turns and eyes him speculatively and I lean closer to hear her response. This should be good.

  “Question: Will you wash your hands after you pee from now on? Answer: Freaking hell yes you will or you won’t touch any part of me with those hands ever again.” Angela raises her dark eyebrows up to the heavens and Mark’s eyes widen in surprise. “And,” she adds. “I won’t touch any part of you ever again.”

  He recoils and leans into her, “Anything for you my raven-haired beauty.”

  I grin, noticing how she instantly relaxes. A smug smile plays on the corners of her mouth. They are so cute together. Polar opposites, but they fit together perfectly.

  As a wealthy politician’s daughter, Angela ruffled a lot of feathers when she and Mark eloped to Vegas immediately after graduation. But being married five years now, everyone’s doubts seem to have been in vain. Mark is Brody’s best friend from childhood. Angela met Mark around the same time Brody and Finley started hooking up in college. Mark appears to worship the ground Angela walks on. They are sickeningly sweet together, just like Brody and Finley.