London Bound

by Amy Daws

  “Anything,” he says, and leans in again to kiss me. It’s a nice kiss. Full and warm, enticing and swirling. But I feel my mind drifting to other things. Other people. One person in particular. Growing frustrated with my thoughts, I kiss Jarrod harder, willing away my thoughts of a brown-eyed, dark-framed-glasses-wearing alpha. Jarrod, Jarrod, I’m kissing Jarrod—a nice boy from Cornwall who works in financing and has three brothers and a cat.

  His hands drift down my back and he flushes himself against me. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, I press my hands firmly against his chest and push him back. He relents easily and offers me a lopsided smile, looking sweetly dazed. I’m feeling dazed too, but I’m afraid it’s not because of Jarrod.

  “Sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away there. You sure you don’t want to come up to my room? I’ve got coffee and tea,” he says, running his hand through his hair. I shake my head politely, looking downward, unable to make eye contact. “Can I get your number at least? I come back here occasionally. I’d love to call you when I’m in town.”

  Not wanting to make things awkward, I give Jarrod my mobile number and indicate that I’d welcome a call next time he’s in town. I know there’s no future here. I just need to get away. The longer I stand here wishing he were someone else, the guiltier and more melancholy I feel.

  We part ways and I shoot Frank a quick text telling him I’m taking the Tube back on my own and he shouldn’t hurry back. He seems concerned but I mollify him by telling him I’m just hungover from last night but that I was successful in my mission.

  If only that were it.

  I can’t believe I’ve let Theo get under my skin so damn much that I can’t even make out with another guy without thinking about him. I picked Jarrod tonight because I could just tell he’d be easy. Safe. He looked like one of those guys that are too nice to even breakup with a woman. He’d just be congenial and compliant throughout an entire relationship. Why can’t I date someone like him? It’d be safe and secure. Nothing like what I grew up with. Surely nothing like the brooding Theo.

  I need to stop thinking of Theo. He’s obviously given up on me since he was a no-show tonight. That’s a depressing thought! I roll my eyes knowing I’m never the girl guys care about—not long term anyway. I’m a passing fancy. I’m intriguing because I’m bold and wild and make a splash with my fashion choices. Beyond that, I’m not the girl they really want.

  So this is a wakeup call for me. I need to stop pining over Theo. He’s obviously over me. This is not a new concept. Once again, I was just a plaything. Nothing more. Playing hard to get made me interesting for about two seconds, and now he’s well and moved on.

  I hop off the Tube and round the corner to our house. I nearly fall on my face when I see Theo sitting on our concrete steps. His posture is hunched and tense and he’s punching away on his phone. He looks up when he hears my clacking heels approaching.

  “Theo?” I ask, wondering if I’m happy or sad to see him right now.

  “I don’t even have your bloody number,” he holds his phone up mockingly and tosses it down onto the pavement step next to him. I cringe at the sound, knowing he must have scraped it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, climbing the steps toward him, worried his loud voice is going to elicit our gawking neighbors—or even worse, the group of slackers that constantly congregate at the skate park kiddy corner from our house.

  I gesture for him to follow me into the patio area by our front door. It’s a dreamy little alcove that we barbecue in occasionally. It’s got old, wrought iron fencing, completely covered in ivy, making a private little area from the street.

  Theo stops at the entrance, bracing his hands on either side of the fence like he can’t possibly break the threshold. The golden rope lights cast a warm, lamplight glow on him and I instantly think of sex. He sucks in large, deep breaths, obviously angry about something! He rips a leaf of ivy off the doorway.

  “You look fucking stunning.” He eyes me dolefully like he might be sick at any second.

  “Theo. I…”

  “Do you know that your eyes change color with your outfits?” I frown in confusion. “I’m quite certain they are green, but every time I’ve seen you, you have different eyes. Tonight they look…” He squints and leans forward to get a closer look. “Sage. That dress makes them look like the wallpaper in my mum’s house.” He stalks inside and I instinctively back up, my rear hitting the patio table behind me.

  “That night…in your room…” he stops, playing with the ivy on the wall, his eyes flashing with heat. “They looked almost hunter green, with like, little flecks of amber here and there. Reminded me of this blanket I used growing up.” I wrap my fingers tightly around the edge of the table behind me to stabilize myself. Physically? Emotionally? I’m not sure.

  “And you have this black freckle on the right one. Right in the iris. I’ve never seen that before,” he shrugs. “Your eyes are impossible to keep up with! It’s frustrating as hell!”

  “So stop trying!”

  “Don’t you think I am?”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, Theo!” I cry out, putting more distance between us by extricating myself from the table toward the wall.

  “I know what you’ve been doing. Your stupid cleanse shite. I know about all of it,” he says, sardonically, covering his black-rimmed glasses with both hands and releasing a loud groan. I shrink, feeling suddenly awkward and nervous.

  “How do you know everything?” I ask, quietly.

  “Frank told Liam,” he grates the words out vindictively. “I’m going mental, Leslie.” He sighs heavily and jams his hands into the pouch on the front of his thin, grey hoodie. “I thought I was done with you. I thought you were out of my mind. I thought, she’s made her choice. Stuff her. But fuck!” he roars, making me flinch at the volume. “Thinking of your lips on another man’s makes me feel positively gutted!”

  “So stop thinking about it!” I reply snottily. His head jerks up and his pained expression turns murderous.

  “You kissed someone tonight, didn’t you?” he barks and I remain silent. “Didn’t you?” he roars once more.

  “Yes, I did. And it was nice.” I don’t know why I added the last part. Maybe in retaliation to his shouting. I’ve never seen him this angry before and I don’t really enjoy it.

  “Nice,” he nods slowly and looks up at me seriously, his eyes hooded. “What if I told you I want to erase every trace of whatever wanker you’ve been with tonight, Leslie?” He stalks toward me purposefully, a man clearly on a mission.

  Shit, I’m trapped.

  “I don’t even know—” I start, but he closes the last remaining distance between us in a flash and his lips slam into mine, ramming me up against the ivy-covered wall of the house.

  I flinch at the harsh contact of the rustling leaves behind me. His hands grip my hips bruisingly, punishingly. I reply back even harsher in my own way. A battle of the mouths has ensued and we’re both desperate to make each other pay for the pain we’ve inflicted on ourselves these past few months.

  I grip his cheeks roughly, coaxing his mouth to submit to my own. Both of us kissing hard and fierce, fighting for the power, the upper hand, the dominance. Neither of us giving in to the other.

  His tongue plunges deep and severe into my mouth and I meet it with my own. Moving and massaging his. A low rumble escapes his throat and his hands drop down from my hips to my thighs. He pulls my legs up to wrap around his waist, propping me up against the wall. When I’ve secured my legs tightly, his hands drift up the outer sides of my thighs, higher and higher until I’m fully exposed to him. He pulls my lower lip into his mouth and bites down on it, dragging his teeth along until it springs free.

  “Are you not wearing any fucking underwear?” his guttural tone winds me. I pant loudly against his grim expression and shake my head silently. “Why?”

  Seriously? He wants me to answer this question now? What the fuck! Let’s get back to the kissing bit
. I crane forward to find his lips again and he pulls back, repeating his question silently.

  “I never do!” I bellow, feeling feverishly frustrated.

  “Leslie.” He says my name in a growl and kisses me savagely, not only erasing any memory of Jarrod’s kiss tonight, but every man I’ve ever kissed. That phrase: ruin you for other men—was just that, a phrase. I’d read it in my romance novels and rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it. I’m eating my words now.

  “I need to come inside,” he says, earnestly running his lips along my jaw and neck, sending all of my lady parts woozing for England.

  His words are a sudden wakeup call snapping me out of my aroused state of mind. Letting him inside my house and my heart is not something I want. At all. I shake my head, immediately feeling my protective shield slamming back into place. Whatever’s happening right now needs to stop. It’s as if my protective autopilot just kicked on—finally. My mind knows without my body listening that it does not want to let Theo in.

  “Stop shaking your head, Leslie.” I try to lower my legs and he grips them tightly and scowls.

  “You’re not coming inside, Theo,” I say, finally digging my voice out of my vagina enough to speak some sense.

  “I need to come inside, Leslie.” He lets my legs drop this time and I blanch at the feel of his arousal as I slide down off of him. He’s looking at me in utter shock.

  I clear my throat tentatively. “Nothing’s changed, except for the fact that I think my lips will be bruised tomorrow.” I rub them softly, feeling irrationally turned on by the passionate exchange we just had.

  “You’ve got to be bloody joking,” he says and straightens his already straight glasses.

  “I can’t do this, Theo. I told you. That kiss was…nice. But I’m still not looking for what you want. I’m not wanting a relationship.”

  “It was nice.” He cocks his jaw out, seemingly outraged by my meager description of what just happened. He leans into me, fast and furious…my body hits the ivy wall again. His lips hover millimeters from mine. “I’ll show you fucking nice.” He shoves himself away from the wall and storms off, down the steps and away from the house.

  My breath comes fast and short for what feels like a straight minute. I squat down in the dark alcove, raking my hands through my hair, tears springing to my eyes. Holy fuck. What’s happening?

  ***

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I wake the next morning feeling crusty and overrun. It’s Sunday. The day of rest, right? I wonder if Frank will let me take a break from the cleanse today. I only have two more challenges left though. Maybe it’s better to just get them over with.

  I thought doing this cleanse would get me out of my funk and interested in life again. So far, all it’s doing is getting me interested in Theo. More. Exactly what I don’t want. Theo so obviously wants something bigger from me, and that makes him dangerous. My heart is not in the position to let someone like him in and I need to remember that next time I’m around him. This cleanse isn’t about finding a man, it’s about having fun and living life to the fullest. But crying myself to sleep last night sure as shit wasn’t fun.

  Frank had to go and muck everything up by telling Liam every damn detail. Theo and Liam are best friends, surely Frank knew what he was doing. Sabotage is nigh and I will certainly make Frank pay.

  I toss off my quilt, determined to fuck up Frank’s morning. It’s only eight o’clock, so he’s probably still out cold. I heard him clamor in late last night. Obviously he found some fun after I left him high and dry at the bar. Frank is nothing if not resourceful.

  I tiptoe out into the quiet hallway, mindful of the creaky spots on the wood flooring. I run downstairs and am happy to see no one else awake. I don’t want to be distracted from my plan of payback. I quickly grab a wooden spoon out of the crock on the counter and one of the biggest soup pots I can find.

  I dash back up the stairs, out of breath and giggly just thinking about waking Frank up. I pause outside his door, listening for any noises. When I hear nothing, I clasp the knob and swing the door open widely, barging into his room banging the spoon against the metal pan repeatedly. I squint my eyes shut in response to the deafening volume. I smile broadly and open my eyes and feel immediately horrified when I realize I’m gazing at a naked stranger in Frank’s bed! The pan and spoon clatter to the ground and I back up quickly, running straight into someone. I swerve around to find Frank wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, a vest, and oh my god! Chaps! He’s wearing chaps and he doesn’t have pants on under them!

  “Fuck me, Lezzie! What the bloody hell!”

  “Oh my God Frank, cover yourself!” I shield fast, but not fast enough. I got a glimpse of Frank’s package and I don’t think it was happy to see me. He quickly pulls his hat off his head and covers his crotch, looking decidedly sheepish.

  “What are you doing barging in here?” he asks incredulously. His skinny limbs and chest are bare beneath an extravagantly jeweled vest.

  I drop my hand to look more closely, then swerve my eyes over to his large dresser.

  “That’s my bedazzler!” I squeal. “You said you wouldn’t use it anymore without asking, Frank! Last time you used up all my jewels!” I stomp over to his dresser, looking inside the tackle box I keep everything in. He’s greatly diminished my jewels again, just as I suspected. I glare at him and do my best to stifle a laugh as I watch him shift nervously in his ridiculous getup.

  “Why does you playing make-believe with Billy the Kid here have to involve my bedazzler, Frank?” I bite my lip, doing my best to look mad and not laugh.

  “Who the fuck is Billy the Kid? This is Lionel and he’s almost thirty!” he barks out incredulously.

  “Bill the Kid is a famous cowboy from the West, Frank!” A hyenic giggle escapes my lips as Frank just looks at me like a confused and slightly wounded puppy dog.

  “I don’t understand your American references, Leslie! Why do you do that to me?” he whines out so seriously that I laugh even harder, feeling completely out of control. My legs give out and I drop to my knees howling as I become eye level with the hat covering his crotch.

  Frank’s face turns homicidal. “Are you quite done, Leslie? Because I’m going to fucking kill you. A slow and painful death.” His voice is low and menacing but I’m not the least bit intimidated with him standing there like that.

  I peel myself off the floor and turn back to the man in his bed who is the picture of mortified. “I’m Leslie by the way. Frank’s best mate.” He shakes my hand uncomfortably with a blanket clenched tightly to his chest.

  “You fuck with my friend, you fuck with me,” I state flatly, eyeing him seriously for a second. When he appears to have heard me, I glance back at Frank who looks embarrassed and blundering.

  “It’s been real boys!” I shout loudly, stretching casually. “As you were,” I curtsey cutely and exit Frank’s room with a loud yeehaw. I laugh all the through the day as the visual memory of Frank in that hat refuses to leave my psyche anytime soon.

  Damn, it feels good to laugh.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It has to be tonight I’m afraid, Lezzie. No breaks. This is the only night they allow amateurs on the platforms.” Platforms. Oh my God.

  “And I have to dance on these platforms you’re saying.”

  “Correct. Tonight’s cleanse is about putting yourself out there, physically. You need to feel confident in your body and your movement, Lezzie. You act like you’re an ugly hag and it’s positively mental. You’re fucking spot on gorge’ and tonight will help you embrace that.”

  I nod and chew my lip thoughtfully as I push through the clothes in my closet.

  “There’s no need to get ready. They do full hair and makeup there.” I screw my face up nervously. Frank winks at me cheekily.

  “I’m still mad at you for throwing Theo into this whole sordid affair,” I grumble.

  “And I’m still mad at you for poking fun at my curlies! Th
ere is a population of traditionalist men that don’t like to go bare down south. Get over it.” I giggle-snort uncontrollably and Frank stares at me deadpan. “Payback is a bitch best served cold, Lezzie. And you’ll be plenty cold tonight in the costume they have in store for you.”

  That sobers me right up.

  ***

  We walk down the back alley attached to a place called Club Taint in north London.

  “This your girl, Frank?”

  A large black man inquires, stepping out of the shadows. The word Security is stretched tightly across his muscled chest.

  “The one and only.”

  The guard motions with his head for us to enter. I follow Frank down a dark hallway and can hear Skrillex club music thumping through the walls. Frank comes to a sudden stop at a bright red door.

  “Now, the only way they’d let you do this tonight is if I told them you were seriously auditioning, so just go along with whatever they say.”

  “What?” I exclaim nervously as the red door swings open. Standing before us is a tall man dressed in Liza Minnelli drag.

  “You’re late.” His voice is deep and booming. “Get to hair and makeup now, your audition is in fifty minutes.”

  “Going, going,” Frank says, casually. How does he know all these people without me? I thought I knew everyone Frank knew! It’s like he’s got this whole secret life I know nothing about!

  Frank clasps my hand and pulls me down the hall further into a small greenroom with a row of vanity mirrors and salon chairs. There are two other girls, way sexier than me, getting the final touches of their makeup applied. A crabby looking blonde with a giant hog style nose ring grabs my arm and shoves me into a chair, eyeing me seriously.

  “Short hair. That should be interesting,” she says, flatly. My hair’s not short! It’s medium at the very least. I glance at the other girls and notice they all have stringy, fake extensions bringing their locks all the way down to their butts.