by Hawkes, Cora
"My mum’s family lives over here and as we don't have any family left over there, we moved here."
He studied me quizzically, “So, your mom was born here?”
“Yeah, she moved to the UK after she married my dad and had me.” I couldn't help the way my lips turn down at his name and then gave myself a mental kick when Scott’s eyebrows raised a fraction.
“Your dad doesn’t care about you being over here?”
Hell no! “No, he doesn’t.” What was this anyway, twenty-questions? I didn't want to talk about my dad at all.
"What about you? Do you like being in a band?" I really didn't want to know anything about him – I really didn't – I just didn't want to talk about the past anymore.
“I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't like it,” his eyes were twinkling at me and somehow I think he knew that I had deliberately changeakiately cd the subject . “We're doing a tour next summer when I graduate.”
“Really?" I had a major interest in music. "Where?" I wanted to know more instantly.
"National, We want to cram as many dates in as we can."
"That's so interesting," I knew my face was lighting up but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to find anything about him interesting but he was making that very difficult for me.
He laughed and my eyes widened as I was hit by a wave of desire all over again. His laugh was warm and deep and made him seem even more eye-poppingly beautiful as he usually was. I released my breath slowly whilst I looked away from him so I could catch my breath again. I looked at the cracks in the pavement.
"Do you play anything?" he seemed totally tuned into me now.
“Piano, but I don't want to be a musician like you. I want to be involved in the business side of things."
"Piano, huh? How long have you played?”
"Since I can remember. Apparently, my dad insisted I be taught as early as possible." Oh, yes! His perfect daughter.
"You must be good then?"
I wasn't just good, I was a pro but I didn't want to boast so I just smiled in answer.
"Hmm..." he cocked his head slightly and looked at me thoughtfully. What is he thinking? Our gazes locked for a moment and I looked away before he could read me.
We were halfway home now and I had to grudgingly admit that he was a nice guy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
He lifted the packet to offer me one. “Smoke?”
“Non-smoker,” I squeezed a smile out. “I suppose I should tell you how bad those things are and that they’ll kill you one day but I'm guessing you already know that.”
He put the cigarette between his lips and sparked up, “I’ll give up the day I graduate.”
"Just like that?" I teased.
He nodded, "Just like that." His mouth curved in a smug grin.
We had grown silent again, I searched my brain for something to get the conversation flowing. Silence between us wasn't a good thing. It made my mind wander to memories that were better left alone.
"What do your parents think about you wanting to be a rock star?" How lame do I sound? Very.
"It's just me and my dad actually, and he's always had my back in everything I do. My mom fucked off when I was a baby and only seen her a couple of times since."
Trust me to put my foot in my mouth, "I'm sorry. Now I’m prying."
"It's nothing," he shrugged, "was a long time ago and I've never known any different so..." I felt bad for him. Growing up without a mum must have been hard. I imagined him as a little boy with nobody to wipe his tears away. Nobody to kiss away hurts. I stopped myself from thinking that way about him. I, in no way, wanted to think about him as vulnerable.
I swallowed as I thought about my own mum. She has had such a sad life — but no more.
"You and your dad are close then?"
"Yeah, he's away a lot so we don't see much of each other, although we talk on the phone." His face softened and I could tell that he loved his dad very much.
"Hi, St tleft">"cott," we both looked towards the blonde sat on the wall twirling a lock of hair between her manicured fingers.
Scott winked and smiled sexily at her. I wondered if she was the one for tonight and then give myself a mental thump. Why did I care anyway?
We were almost home now and I wanted nothing more than to have a shower.
“You still meeting Adam at seven?” I thought I saw his jaw tense but I couldn't be sure.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to walk you there?”
I frowned, why would he want to walk me to meet my date? “Um, no thanks, I’m good.”
“Okay, everyone’ll be in mine when you get back, you and Adam can join if you want.”
This felt weird. Here I was talking to the guy who I had almost had sex with about the guy I was dating tonight.
“Thanks, we might.” I went to get my key but he beat me to it with his own and held the door open for me. I mumbled my thanks as I walked in.
“Maybe see you later, then.” He said.
“Yeah,” I turned to unlock mine and Ash’s door.
“Emma?” His quiet rasp was almost breathless and right behind me. Shivers ran up my neck as I realised that that was the first time he had said my name and it sounded so good coming from him.
I turned to face him with a frown. His intense gaze held mine as he came close to me. He reached out a hand and my breath held as I wondered what he was doing. He took my phone out of my grasp and punched in a number and pressed call. A few seconds later I heard his phone ring and then he hung up, tapped the keys more and then handed me back my phone.
“I’ve got your cell and you’ve got mine. If Adam gives you any shit, call me.” His gaze bored into mine.
“Why, you barely know me?” It slipped out. I cringed at how rude I sounded. I wanted to know why he was trying to protect me like I was his little sister or something.
He paused before answering. “Your Ashley's cousin."
"You don't need to look out for me out of duty just because I'm related to Ash, you know." It annoyed me that he would pretend to care just because of Ash.
A half smile appeared, "Friends look out for each other, don't they?"
Yes, we were friends.
I closed my door and leaned against it, maybe Scott Mason wasn't such a bad guy after all.
ƀ
Chapter Five
Adam was already waiting when I arrived at our meeting place. He took my hand immediately and walked to the nearest diner. The whole time I was thinking how his hand was nothing like scott’s big, strong, calloused hands. Adam’s hands were soft and gracefully thin. I sighed to myself, the sooner I stopped thinking about Scott that way the better. I turned all my attention to Adam and tried to stop comparing him to Scott.
The diner was busy. We wound through tables to the only one left. Adam pulled my chair out for me and then handed me a menu. I ordered burger and chips. Adam laughed as he corrected me; fries, not chips. It was annoying when he corrected me but I didn't say anything, he'd get used to me.
Ash called me twice already and I had to explain to Ad that she was0" worried about me. We talked and got to know each other; more like, he talked and I got to know him. He watched horrors while I hated them, he listened to mostly hip-hop while I thought it was terrible, he didn't have the time to read while I made time to read. We had a lot of differences but don’t opposites attract anyway? He knew what he wanted in life; a good job, a wife, a family and maybe a dog — in that order. He was a bit young to be thinking about all that already and I hoped he wasn't sprouting all that just to impress me. He was handsome in a warm, wholesome kind of way and I knew my mum would love him. What mum wouldn't like him? By the end of our meal we were comfortable with each other and he held my hand over the table.
He sounded grounded and safe. I cringed, there was that word again, safe, twice in one day. He was safe and Scott was dangerous. Okay, he was a bit up his own ass but this was only the first date an
d maybe he was desperately trying to make me like him?
"What’re you thinking?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence as we walked back to my place.
"Just stuff.” I looked at him and smiled.
"Share?" Adam asked.
"I was just thinking about what a great guy you are. I've had a nice time tonight. Thanks." He stopped and I looked up at him.
He was watching me intently. "You're so cute," he whispered as he touched my cheek gently.
I knew he was going to kiss me and I didn't feel panicked by it at all.
He came towards me slowly, all the while looking at me as if asking permission. When I didn't stop him, he put his lips on mine tentatively at first. When I didn't pull away, he brought his other hand to my cheek and deepened the kiss. His tongue was stroking mine softly and I brought my arms up and wrapped them around his neck. He was so gentle with me and I liked it.
He pulled away to look at me and grinned.
We walked on with our hands meshed together until we reached my place.
He walked me right to my door, “I really had a lovely time tonight, Adam. Thanks.” I smiled, my hand still in his.
“So,” he drew it out, “do you want to go out again?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” I nodded.
He stood there and reached for my other hand to pull me in close for another kiss. He kissed me the same way he had before but my body wouldn't relax into it. I kept thinking that Scott could walk out the front door or look out the window any minute and see me kissing Adam and I had no idea why I should be thinking that while I was meant to be enjoying Adam's attention. Why should I care if Scott sees? I just met him and I can count on one hand the amount of times I've spoken to him. Adam didn't notice my discomfort and continued to kiss me.
After saying goodnight, I went inside and remembered that everyone would be upstairs in Scott's for a movie. I debated for a minute whether I should knock on his door and join them or not. Would it send the wrong message to Scott? I didn’t want him to think that I wanted to see him but everyone was there and it was way too early for bed. Argh! What am I doing? I was obsessing over him and I barely knew the guy. What the hell is wrong with me?
Without thinking about it anymore, I tapped on his door. A few moments later Scott appeared, he didn't say anything but just looked at me darkly as he came forward to take my hand. He had light, den Cad momeim jeans on and a faded green shirt that looked fantastic on him. His gaze never leaving mine, he came close and as he did a faint twang of alcohol hit my nostrils. I squinted at him through the dim light and I confirmed that he looked slightly drunk.
He looked over my shoulder, “Where’s your date, what’s his name, Adrian?” he stepped towards me.
“Adam?” I corrected. “He left.”
“Come up then.” He pulled me through the door and up the stairs to his apartment.
The door was open once we got there and we walked straight in. Scott's apartment surprised me. It wasn't dingy as I expected it would be. I thought it'd be dark with empty beer bottles littering the floor, maybe a few week-old take-out cartons on the coffee table, but I was wrong.
The door opened to an open plan lounge and diner. A big room with clean, white walls with added splashes of a deep red here and there. There was a large white leather couch shaped like a U that would be big enough to seat about ten people. Ash, Newton and Meg were splayed on it stuffing themselves with popcorn, all eyes riveted to the gore on the massive flatscreen TV. There was big, double balcony doors that over-looked the town below. Then, my eyes rested on his piano. Sleek and black and shiny. My fingers spasmed just looking at it. It had been so long since I had played and I missed it, although apart of me didn't want to play again.
I felt Scott watching me and I couldn’t resist looking at him with a smile. "You have a nice place."
He raised an eyebrow, "Why you surprised?"
I shook my head, "Guys aren't known for their cleaning, you know."
He was so good looking. His eyes, half closed, instantly held mine. A tingle of awareness zinged over my skin. I took a breath, breaking the contact at the same time and released my hand too.
“Hi,” I raised my hand to the guys.
Grunts and half-hearted smiles of welcome came my way while they didn't take their eyes off the screen.
My hand was taken in a soft grip. I looked down to see that Scott had abducted my hand again. I hated the way he took my hand all the time. My lips parted to protest.
“I’ll get you a drink,” he said, cutting off anything I was going to say and dragged me through a door by where the dining table was and into the equally clean, tidy kitchen. His hand was doing things to my equilibrium that I thought was odd because when Adam had held my hand, it was just that; a hand. Scott’s hand was warm and strong and forceful. I felt aware of every bit of skin that his hand was touching and I didn’t like it. He didn’t let my hand go as he went over to the fridge and opened the door.
His thumb started stoking slow circles in the sensitive part between my thumb and forefinger sending fire shooting down to my belly and I hated it. I didn't want to feel this at all.
“What do you want?” He opened the fridge door wide so I could peek inside.
What I wanted was my hand back. Honestly, I could walk on my own without his helping hand. After all, I was all of nineteen years old — a big girl. Why did he think he had a right to get in my personal bubble? I barely knew him.
“I’ll have a beer, please.” I tried pulling my hand away gently but when he didn’t get the subtle hint, I asked, “Can I have my hand back?”
"Does C"letlymy touch bother you, babe?" His gaze pierced mine.
Hell yes! "No," I said too fast. My face heated and my stomach flipped.
He frowned and looked at me with his head to the side. I wanted to look away so much but I refused to back down. My face got hotter as his eyes burned into me and then, after what seemed like minutes, he released my hand.
“I’m holding your hand ‘cos I like it. I'm not flirting." His lips twisted, "You're not my type." He shrugged and turned back to the fridge.
Not his type? Why did that infuriate me? By the sounds of what I had heard, he went for girls that laid down for him on the first night. Damn right I wasn't his bloody type. I was far from a slag.
“You're right, I’m not your type. I’m not a slut.” I raised my chin defiantly.
He turned abruptly, his brows pulling together as he studied me. “What the fuck is with you?”
“Nothing, I just don’t want you to take my hand all the time. I’m not a doll.” I huffed and crossed my arms as I looked away from his intent stare.
“I’m a touchy person,” he shrugged, “stop overanalysing.”
“I’m not overanalysing anything. I don’t see you ever holding Ashley’s hand — or Meg's.” I pointed out.
“Why you being sensitive?”
“I’m not, I barely know you and you keep invading my bloody bubble.”
“Bubble?” he chuckled. "Do all Brits have brooms shoved up their asses, or is it just you?"
I gasped and my jaw went slack. How dare he? “Wow, your ego is really something, but no, we don't have brooms shoved up our anything." I gave him the best evil-eye I could. "I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me because of the other night. I don’t want you to think that I'm interested in you or anything, because I'm not.”
His expression sobered as I spoke.
“Really? Not interested?” He moved towards me slowly, like a panther tracking its prey, its eye on its goal. I edged back with every step he took until my lower back came up against a counter that was in the centre of the kitchen. His hands went either side of me as his head lowered to mine. I could smell the booze emanating off him but there was a scent that I remembered from the other night that mingled in with the alcohol and it was far from unpleasant.
My heart sped up and wanted out of my chest as his head came even closer. He stro
ked his cheek against mine and I froze as his stubble scraped my skin sending unwanted tingles all over me. One of his hands came up and fingered the dip at the bottom of my neck where my collarbones met. I could feel my pulse kicking rapidly against the gentle pressure of his stroking finger.
“Hmm…” he mumbled.
My eyes closed in embarrassment as I knew he had all the proof he needed that he affected me.
He moved away slightly to look at me, “This might not be interested,” his fingers touched my temple in a feather-light caress, “but your body’s telling me a different story.”
My heart doubled its speed. "My body isn't telling you a thing." What else could I say to make him back off?
He stepped away from me until he was leaning against the counter opposite me. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes nev C hih="er leaving mine. Something had shifted in the atmosphere. A tension between us that was heavy and suffocating. I held his stare with my head held high, daring him to say I was lying. He watched me squirm a while longer, his head cocking to the side. After a minute, a faint smile transformed his features. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and came close again to place mine on the counter behind me.
"You're right." He shook his head in apology. "Wishful thinking, I guess."
