London Bound

by Amy Daws

  I shake my head haphazardly. “It has nothing to do with you!”

  “It has to do with anyone who bloody well cares about you!” he booms loudly, getting closer to my face.

  I stumble slightly. “And you think that’s you, do ya?” I say it softly but with malice. “You don’t know me well enough to care, Theo. If you did, you’d change your mind in a flash! I’m not the one to care about. I’m not the one to fall for. I’m certainly not the one who wants what you want.”

  “Stop this, Leslie,” he barks thunderously. “Pleeeease?” his voice rises in question, his face looking pained and desperate. His hands are clenched firmly by his sides like he’s doing everything he can to contain his fury.

  That. That is exactly why this will never work between Theo and me. I won’t be controlled. Even if he asks nicely. I won’t live under a man’s thumb that controls all situations. I’ve grown up around that shit and it’s so far from anything I’ll ever accept in life.

  “Give her some space man,” Brody says, placing a calming hand on Theo’s puffed out chest. Liam and Frank come over and grab Theo’s arms, gently pulling him away from my bubble of space. The space around us feels tense with unspoken foreboding.

  Ethan cuts the tension by sauntering right between us and starts blatantly flirting with Vilma. Figures. She’s blonde, willowy, and beautiful. Fuck my life.

  “Let’s dance, Fin-Bin!” I sing merrily, grabbing her hand and yanking her out onto the dance floor. “No boys!” I say, swerving around and halting Brody and Frank in their tracks. “I’m sorry Frank. And you know I love ya Brodster, but sometimes a girl just needs her girlfriends.” They both nod and smile sadly at me.

  I grab Julie and pull her out with us too. We make our way down the few steps to the sunken dance floor. In seconds we’re all three losing ourselves to the beat of the music. I adamantly attempt to ignore the audience of brooding men staring down at us from their tables on the upper level near us. Just being away from Theo makes me feel lighter, more carefree.

  When Finley throws out an imaginary fishing pole to reel me in, I laugh heartily. Dammit, I wish I would have worn underwear—the lack thereof is preventing me from busting out some of my favorite moves.

  I risk a glance up at the guys again and their expressions are almost heartbreaking! Frank and Brody both look sad and concerned. Liam looks uncomfortable. Mitch looks sulky. And Theo—Oh God, what is Theo’s face right now? Angry? Nervous? Desperate? I can’t tell. It’s a hodgepodge of worry I think. And fuck me! Why are they all looking at me like I’m suicidal?

  Enough of this shit!

  I stop dancing and Finley halts her moves too, looking at me like she thinks I’m going to be sick. She approaches, touching my back all nervous and worried like I’m a damn child.

  This just irritates me even further, so before I can think better of it I grab her face in my hands and plant my lips on hers, hard and fast. I don’t move my lips at first, simply allowing the shock and sting of our teeth clinking to register fully in our minds. When her tense face relaxes beneath my hands, I open my mouth ever so slightly and start really kissing her. If I’m gonna do a girl kiss, I’m going to make it the best girl kiss of all time!

  She squeals a little and brings her hands up to rest on my wrists. I think she might be laughing but she doesn’t shove me away. She relaxes and begins moving her lips against mine as well.

  Hell, my bestie is a good kisser!

  I crack up laughing at that thought and our moment is broken. We pull apart both in hysterics with tears welling in our eyes.

  “You fucking kissed me!” Finley cries.

  “You’re damn skippy!” I say, smacking my lips on hers for yet another chaste kiss. She laughs again and shakes her head incredulously.

  “You’ve got some nerve! I’m a married woman!” She flashes her ring at me like I need to see the proof.

  “Like you haven’t been wanting to kiss me for years,” I state smugly.

  “That was seriously hot guys!” Julie says, breaking into our little Finley-n-Leslie bubble.

  “It wasn’t hot when she clinked my teeth,” Finley rubs her lips goofily. We both continue laughing and glance up to see all the guys gawking at us in admiration. Frank is positively beaming as he gives me two very enthusiastic thumbs up. I chance a glance at Theo and his expression is a little harder to read. Is he jealous?

  Brody makes his way down to us and smoothes his hands down Finley’s hips. “I’m glad you got that out of your system, Lez. But let’s not make it a habit, eh?” I frown quizzically at him. “I don’t really need my wife and her best friend being the objects of desire to a club full of dudes. I’ll kick anyone’s ass who touches you girls, and doing that shit just opens the door for assholes.”

  “Sorry Brod-ster,” I offer meekly.

  He shakes me off and ruffles my hair playfully. “It was entertaining,” he adds sheepishly. Finley smacks him against his chest and turns in his arms as they tangle together in a dance.

  “You can kiss Julie anytime,” Mitch says, walking past me and pulling Julie into his arms. I snort and look up to see only Frank sitting up above now, so I make my way up.

  “Well done, you! A right proper girl kiss if I ever saw one!” Frank rewards me with a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Couldn’t have done it better myself, love. Truly. Impossible.”

  “Thanks, Frank,” I half-smile and look back toward the bar searching for a familiar face. “So…?”

  “So, what?” Frank asks, knowingly.

  “Where’d Theo go?” I inquire, feeling silly for caring.

  Frank shrugs his shoulders. “He left, Lez. Sorry love.”

  “Oh! Nothing to be sorry for. I was just curious.” I shake my head dismissively and take a drink of my V&T on the table.

  “You don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to,” Frank whispers softly in my ear.

  “What d’ya mean? ‘Course I want to! This is fun!” My happy tone is forced and my smile is fake as hell.

  Frank nods and smiles sadly. “Tomorrow is make out with a bloke.”

  I feel stunned. Make out with a dude? Already?

  I can do this. I can. I think I can. I’m pretty sure I can.

  ***

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I so cannot do this.

  Thank the Lord it’s Saturday. After last night’s booze-fest, there’s no way in bloody hell I’d be able to get up and go to work today. I toss myself out of my creaky daybed and make my way over to my window to check the weather. It’s raining, like it always does in London. The weather here is rather dreary, always making everything so gray. But the pulse of the city is what drives me. That and the fact that it’s so incredibly different from where I grew up.

  Checking the weather was something we did regularly on the farm growing up. The rain gauge and temperature gauge were regular talking points at the breakfast table. Our dairy farm was located on the outskirts of Marshall. We had a lot of livestock, so my father employed a pretty sizeable staff to keep it all operating. Growing up, I wasn’t required to do very much work outside, but I remember as a little girl always begging my dad to take me down to see the cows getting milked by the big machines.

  I can still picture my mother, barefoot and pregnant with my brother, asking my father timidly to take me outside for just a bit. He’d growl about having too much work to do and say he didn’t want me slowing him down. I hate that memory being forever etched in my mind.

  I think I hated him even then.

  A knock at the door snaps me out of my reverie.

  “Lezbo?” Frank croons softly through the door. “Are you up?”

  “I’m up!” He opens the door and stands before me, looking like a child in his plaid two-piece pajama set. I genuinely smile.

  “Thank heavens you are! Brody and Finley went out to Cambridge for the day and Mitch and Julie are still sleeping. I’m bored as fuck, Lez. Will you play with me?”

  I chuckle at his sweet li
ttle sad face.

  “Let’s go to Fab’s and then grab lunch,” I suggest. His eyes instantly light up.

  “Only if we can pop next door!” he says, exiting the room—to go get dressed, I’m sure. “I gotta see what latest magazines are in!” he shouts.

  My Frankie…ever the pervert.

  ***

  A couple hours later, we waltz into Fab’s and Ameerah is busying herself with a large box of new bolts.

  “Ooo, new stuff?” I ask, hurrying over to check out the goods.

  “Leslie, child! Where you been?” She stands up straight from her hunched-over position, giving me an eyeful of her ample bosom and curvaceous body. Ameerah is cloaked in a mustard-yellow maxi dress that matches her yellow hair.

  After informing her that Frank and I were in Mexico for Finley’s wedding, Ameerah seems resolved to forgive me of my absence. I stop into Fab’s at least once a week after work to shoot the shit. She’s super up-to-date on the industry trends. We usually chat over a bottle of her native country’s wine that tastes like plain cranberry juice.

  “What is this?” I ask, grabbing a bolt of a nude fabric that glimmers dreamily in the light.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look myself, child. Let’s lay it out.”

  “I’m bored,” Frank crows loudly. Ameerah and I barely look up as she quickly unravels several yards worth across her large worktop table. “You guys are dull, I’m going next door to hang with Umar.”

  I stroke my fingers across the beautiful nude chiffon, relishing in the intricately designed rosette texture. This is a fabric that screams bridal or high class evening gown. This is red carpet shit right here! My fingers are itching to make something with it, but I have no events to wear such a gown to.

  “You think you could do something with it?” Ameerah murmurs in her thick Caribbean accent.

  “Shyeah! Too bad I’d never have anywhere to wear it!”

  “I want something for a display piece here. Something to dress up the window a bit.”

  My eyes bug out of my head. “You’d really want me to do that? This fabric has to be expensive, Ame!”

  “You don’t worry about that. I got this!” She rewraps the fabric and places it inside a large fabric bag and hands it over to me.

  “You’re not kidding!” She shakes her head, smiling. “I’ll do my very best, I swear.”

  She pats me encouragingly and ushers me to the back room for some wine. “It’s not even a question.”

  ***

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The whole time I get ready for my big night out, I stare dreamily at the bolt of fabric Ameerah sent home with me. Bodice ideas are flowing in my head and I can’t wait to be done with this cleanse so I can throw myself into that project.

  “Lez?” Finley’s voice says, outside my door. “I’m coming in,” she says, as she opens the door. “Shiiiit!” she exclaims. “You look—” she stops, unable to finish her sentence.

  “This work? I mean, I’m sure you’d look way hotter in it, but if I have to make out with a guy tonight, I need to try the whole sexy thing. Not the designer thing I usually do.” I glance at myself in the floor-length mirror by my mannequin and cringe. “Did my hair get redder?”

  “Leslie, shut the fuck up. You look hot!”

  I exhale heavily. Okay, it must be halfway decent if Finley is so adamant right now. My dress is a simple deep-red mini tube dress, but the sheer lace overlay is what gives it that wow factor. The lace covers my arms and shoulders completely, giving me that nearly naked yet fully covered look. It’s that impossibly perfect balance of sex and class. I add a touch of a smoky-eye effect and feel like I’ve mustered my inner siren for tonight.

  Finley flops herself onto my bed. “So, you think Theo will show up tonight?”

  My chest rises fractionally at the mention of his name. The thought has obviously occurred to me. Only 9,323 times. Part of me wants him to be the guy I make out with, but a larger part of me, the more practical part, screams and slaps me across the face for being such a douche canoe.

  You can’t kiss Theo tonight, Leslie. You can’t!

  “Even if he does, it won’t stop me.”

  Finley shakes her head disapprovingly at me. “You’re hiding something, Leslie. And that pisses me off. We’re supposed to tell each other everything, remember? Even the cracks.” She scowls at me, refusing to break her death stare.

  “There’s nothing to tell, Fin! Theo wants more. I don’t. End of.”

  “Bullshit. I’ll give you time, but not much.” She stands up and strides past me. “Frank says hurry up,” she says over her shoulder. She closes the door behind her as she leaves.

  The gauntlet has been dropped. Finley is pissed. Well, as pissed as she ever gets at me. I know her enough to know that it won’t get any worse than this. But still, if I don’t come clean—the idea of losing her as a friend makes my stomach roil. I’ve never told anyone this shit and I don’t want that to change now! I can barely admit it to myself!

  I totter closer to my mirror in my nude platform wedges and eye my face closely.

  “You’re in the weeds now, Leslie,” I say to my reflection. “Nothing’s changed though. You’re still the same girl from the same town you want to forget. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” I huff out a laugh and smear my matte red lipstick across my lips.

  “Game time.”

  ***

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  This is swank, west London nightlife at its finest. Colorful cocktails, women in dresses, men wearing expensive watches. I’m supposed to make out with a guy here? Surely one of the meat market clubs would have been a better option than this posh spot.

  “Frank, why are we here?” I ask, huddled around a glass high-top cocktail table.

  “You can make out with any ol’ bloke in those danceclubs, Lez. This cleanse is about progression. I want high quality kissing to be the name of the game here. Toe curling, all-consuming snogging. This is day five after all!” he adds seriously.

  “Okay, okay. Where do I start then?”

  “Well, first off, kudos on the matte red lips. That’s going to make them positively starved to kiss you!”

  I chuckle dumbly and take a tentative sip of my cosmo. After last night, alcohol doesn’t sound the greatest. But I need something to take the edge off for this challenge.

  “Just set your sights on someone. Start flirting and nibbling on your lip a lot. If they are half a man, they’ll take it from there. Just be open to it, alright, Leslie? Leslie?”

  I jump when Frank shakes my shoulder. I tear my gaze away from the door.

  “What’s your deal? What are you gawking at?”

  “Nothing. I’m ready!” I squeal. I’m sure as shit not admitting to Frank that I was looking for Theo. But gosh, I feel disappointed he’s not here. Not because I want to be with him. Not at all. But part of me wasn’t feeling that nervous for tonight because I thought my make-out guy was going to be Theo. My mind clamors back to the time in my bedroom when he lifted me up onto my desk. He kisses like such a…a….a man. I never thought I could feel sexy in my cheetah-print onesie pajamas but shittin-A, I did that night!

  “Just munch on your lip like you’re doing right now and I’m certain you’ll be all set.” My lip plops out from between my teeth. I didn’t even realize I was chewing on it. “Off you go,” Frank says, taking my drink from my hands and motioning me up toward the other cocktail tables beside us.

  Time to put your big girl knickers on, Lez. Too bad you’re still not wearing any. I find the guy I had my sights set on as soon as I entered—and I’m glad to see he’s still alone. He’s a cute strawberry-blonde fella with kind eyes. He’s definitely got something going for him.

  “Mind if I sit here?” I ask coyly. “My girlfriend was supposed to meet me here tonight, but she bailed last minute.” I pout my lips sexily, knowing I’m a big fat liar.

  “Yes, please. Sit! It’d be my pleasure! I’m Jarrod.” He offers his hand to me, helpin
g me perch up on the stool, my tight dress hugging my thighs together.

  “Leslie,” I pull my lower lip into my mouth, wasting no time. I love this smudge-less matte lipstick. It stays on forever.

  He watches my lip plop out of my mouth and returns his gaze to mine, his eyes twinkling ever so slightly. “So, you’re all on your own then? Me too, actually. I’m here on business, staying at the hotel just across the street. It’s good we ran into each other.”

  He’s congenial, kind, and attentive. We talk about America and his hometown in Cornwall. He says all the right things and laughs at all my girlie jokes. I’m definitely dumbing it down for this bloke, though. I’m certain he couldn’t handle the storm that is the cheetah-onesie-wearing-Leslie. Every time he glances at my lips, I feel myself getting closer and closer to the chance of a kiss.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks, finally. “Get some fresh air? Soho Square is just over there. I’d quite fancy a toodle.”

  I nod and follow him out the door. I feel nothing when he touches the small of my back, guiding me down the busy sidewalk. I feel nothing when he compliments me and finds reasons to touch me. He’s not pinging any sort of sexy radar on my speedometer and that disappoints me greatly. Maybe if I just kiss him. Maybe then I’ll feel something!

  “Jarrod,” I say, stopping us near a small park area. He turns and looks at me curiously, his light hair illuminated softly in the golden streetlight. “I was just wondering if we could maybe…” Reaching deep into my redheaded bravado, I lean in and press my lips to his. I feel his shock at first, but within seconds his hands rise and clasp around the back of my head and neck. He begins reciprocating my kiss eagerly. A few seconds later, he pulls back and murmurs against my lips.

  “Do you want to come up to my room? It’s very close.”

  “No,” I reply, honestly. “Can we just make out on this street corner for a minute?” I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. These challenges are getting to me. I’m growing tired of the pretenses of everything.