Do Not Respond

by M R Field

  Vodka makes the room rock, but not as much as you did against that copier. Don’t do that again. I didn’t enjoy it. I suffer from motion sickness, and you made me dizzy. Your kisses didn’t make me hot at all. The air con played up. Need to call maintenance. My lip was bruised, too. You owe me lip gloss. Strawberry. Stat.

  Why are you being nice to me again, Cole? Just because you’re so hot doesn’t give you the right to use your hotness against me. Not fair. You’re not some Avenger who can try to overpower me. I’m the Black Widow who can totally KICK someone in the balls. (Hint: I still want to kick Dennis in his teeny tiny balls.)

  My stomach fills with butterflies when you’re near me. Can you stop that, thanks? It’s hard to concentrate. It’s confusing, you big jerky jerky jerk face. One minute you’re a dickhead with a big DICK on YOUR HEAD, then you’re being sweet, cuddly, nice Cole. What the fuck is up with that? Old Cole is making an appearance. But he didn’t have muscles like you do now. Still, he was the one I crushed on. Remember him? He was nice, and he wasn’t mean. Until he was. Mr. Muscly Meanie.

  Burn that pink shirt. It screams you’re single and a knob. Not talking about that marsupial either. He has his own postcode.

  There, vent over.

  Well, well, well. So, she’s been writing emails about me? Where do they go? How long has she been doing this for? Since she started, probably. Well, that explains how she’s still there even after all that time of me being an arsehole. She’s been venting. I want to see those other emails. I bet she really throws insults my way. The cheeky minx. If only some were heard occasionally.

  Can’t believe she tripped when I touched her. I clench my fist in frustration but try not to feel the blame too much. There’s one good thing about her being injured—she is less likely to run away from me. Settle down, you freaking stalker. It’s not like I could stalk her—her crazy ninja self would damage me and mount my head as a trophy. She’d probably paint my lips red, too.

  I re-read the email and chuckle, my chest lighter than before. Sure, she gave the fuck-off-home vibe in her flat, but this email tells me there’s still hope.

  I continue plucking out more points in the email. She doesn’t like my eyes, hair, or arse? I call bullshit. I didn’t make her hot in the storage room? Bullshit on that, too. She can tell her drunken brain all she likes, but her body has already sent me several messages, loud and clear. I’d have to be blind and bloody stupid to misread some of our moments.

  One thing’s for sure. Letty and alcohol aren’t friends at all. She’s crazy. Full-blown over-reactive and damn explosive. Fuck, she’s sexy.

  Why am I turned on so much? Nothing has ever made me as hot as what she does to me, and I’ve hardly touched her. Girlfriends from the past didn’t make me think like she does. They didn’t make me want to know and learn more about them. Sure, we got along, but it felt like a time-filler.

  I close my eyes and scratch my chin. She likes my “scruff.” I smile as thoughts of what I could do to her with it start flickering behind my closed eyelids. I hope my girl is getting her beauty sleep. She’s going to need all her faculties about her tomorrow. I have a lot of ideas that need to be tested out. Hmm … should I wear one of my bibs? I’m tempted. But considering that she’s even got a name for my dick, I need her eyes up and focused on me for now. My “marsupial” will have to wait.

  ***

  I look at my watch and almost feel an ounce of guilt, but I shrug it off. Raising my hand, I rap against the wood in a heavier way, unlike how I did yesterday. I want her to open this door as soon as she can. Game plan initiated.

  Footsteps sound on the other side, and I straighten. Part of me wonders if I should be standing in the defence position, covering my balls.

  The door opens and Piper stands on the other side of it, raising a brow at me. I hold up the drink tray with the bag of pastries hanging from my finger. A small knowing smirk forms on her lips.

  “Fancy seeing you here, Cole.” Her voice rises as she looks over her shoulder, and then back again.

  “Yes, I had some urgent correspondence that I needed to take care of.”

  Her smile widens, and it clicks. She must’ve seen it, too. Her not stopping me coming over makes my hope shine even brighter. She leans toward me and lowers her voice. “She has a mega hangover this morning. Be gentle, as she’s fragile.”

  “Does she remember much of last night?” I whisper back, trying to look past her into the room.

  Piper shakes her head. “Not yet, but the vodka fuzz will fade, and she will.”

  I raise my brow and smirk at her knowingly. She giggles, taking the coffees and pastries from me, and I follow her inside.

  “I guess the vodka aftereffects must be making her all kinds of dizzy,” I say.

  “Not anymore. Not like last night, anyway.”

  “She’s cooled right now, then.” I nod.

  I follow her to the lounge and find Letty sitting up and looking at me. Her face is white as a sheet. She looks at me like all her nightmares have come at once, and I haven’t even started to have any fun. Her eyes travel down my body, and she blows out a deep breath of annoyance.

  “Of course, you’re going to rock up here looking all fresh,” she moans as she drapes the blanket across her shoulders. “I feel like death.”

  “I just got out of the shower, actually. Wanted to try this beard shampoo to see if it made my goatee less scruffy.”

  Her brow raises in confusion at my ridiculous overshare while Piper’s smile tells me she knows what I’m doing.

  I grin as inches of fabric from the dress Letty wore last night peek out from under the blanket. “Well, at least you dressed up for our date.”

  “Always the classy lady, even when I’m completely annihilated,” she deadpans.

  Piper places the food and coffee on the coffee table in front of the couch. I take in the apartment during the daytime and notice fixtures that didn’t catch my attention last night. As a certain blonde-haired girl had me spell bound. A bookshelf with photo frames on the top shelf followed by all sorts of books underneath. Not in any order, from the looks of it. It’s next to a canvas on the wall showing a bunch of sunflowers, painted by Letty, her signature sitting in the corner.

  “Oh my God, real coffee! Cole, you are a legend,” Letty praises, and I turn to find her holding one of the cups, reverently.

  “He got us these pastries, too.” Piper opens the bag to take out the wrapped danishes. “If you can’t stomach it, I’ll eat yours, no problem at all.”

  “Not a chance.” Letty reaches forward and grabs one of the pastries. “Doesn’t matter how loud the thumping in my head is, it won’t stop me!”

  I reach down and retrieve one of the coffees and wait for Piper to grab a pastry before I grab my own. Normally, I avoid them, but after being awake half the night thinking of what to do today, the sugar rush is needed.

  I sit in the armchair closest to Letty and take a good look at her. Some of her curls are in super drive, flared out to the side, while some others are still pinned back. Her eyes are dark underneath and her lipstick long gone, but she’s still mesmerising. If this is her looking like death, she has no idea the power she has over men.

  I sip my coffee, enjoying the caffeine kick. She’s not looking like she remembers the email, so time to keep working on kick-starting her memory.

  “Nice canvas up there.” I point to the sunflowers. “I like the blue. Kind of reminds me of the waves near those caves at Mum’s.”

  Her eyes shift to the painting, and she nods, but I don’t see any change in her face that indicates embarrassment.

  “Cole—.” Her finger plays with the lid of her coffee, her Danish already consumed. “I, um….” She rubs her lips together. Her eyes meet mine slowly, and I nod, trying to gently soothe her.

  “Did I really become the biggest moron to you last night when you were fending off that sleaze bag, Dennis?”

  “It’s okay. He was a complete arsehole, but it didn�
��t help that I kept things from you.”

  “I went a bit overboard, though.” She curls her legs under her behind and flips the blanket to cover her legs. Shame, really.

  “Letty, I found out the day before that Dennis wasn’t going to pay us. He’s bankrupt. I didn’t want to tell you about the bank calling—.”

  “Oh, shit!” Her eyes widen. “I should’ve noticed that!”

  I put my cup and half-eaten pastry on the table, move forward, and crouch down to her level. I touch her blanket-covered knee. “This is why I was going to explain another time. I didn’t want to ruin last night.”

  “I still managed to ruin it. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. How freaking stupid.” She pouts, and I rub my thumb against my finger, wishing I could touch her skin.

  “No, you didn’t ruin anything. That fuckwit did it all on his own. Don’t worry about that jerk anymore. It’s not your fault. It’s his and probably mine, as I sent you on that wild goose chase to get away from him during the week.”

  “No,” she shifts in her seat, her face strained with worry, “I get why you did that, now. Still, my job is to make sure everything is in order. I’m sorry, Cole, for not noticing.”

  “It was never your fault,” I say. “That fucker deserves everything coming at him now. He’s lucky to be walking after how he behaved last night. I’m sure he’s a bit bruised today.” I grin, watching her stare at me. “I bet he has a sore rib from your smack.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Goddamn vodka. It makes me a lunatic. Either I’m super happy or neurotic.”

  “Did you try and put the cutlery in any balloons last night?” Piper asks, causing Letty to tilt her head back.

  “Nooo!”

  “Or did you put a drinking straw behind your ear and pretend you were a spy?”

  “Nope.”

  “You didn’t try to put a cherry stem in your mouth to knot it? Last time you did that, I almost had to Henry Heimlich you.”

  “Oh, geez, shut up!” She glares at Piper, who sits on the other armchair, gleefully eating her danish. “I was a bitch! Just a bitch! All because I was too stupid to eat dinner, as I was nervous about seeing Co—.” Her shoulders stiffen, as she raises her elbow immediately to hide her face in it. “Oh, fucking hell,” she mumbles into the fabric of the blanket.

  I just smile. “Nervous, about me? What for?” I move my hand to my chin and rest my elbow on my knee, watching the side of her face redden.

  Piper laughs loudly from her chair before rising to stand. She waves her hand at me and lifts her coffee, mouthing “thanks” before retreating upstairs, leaving us alone.

  “You’re such a smartarse. You know why.” Her face reappears, showing me the red glow that still stains her cheeks. “I did a good job of hiding it.” She leans to the side and rubs her ankle. “Got a nice bruised ankle, too, from tripping down those stairs. I’m such a klutz.” Her curls shake as she moves her head in exasperation. Her eyes linger on my chin, and I stroke my goatee even more. “Thanks for dropping me home. I’m sure I ruined your night.”

  “Not at all.”

  “What did you do after I disgraced myself?” Her voice is husky, making me want to lean in and kiss her. But not yet.

  I stand and sit at the end of the couch, a breath away from her feet. I try to school my features as I deliver my next line. “After I left, I just did the usual. Took Duke for a walk, watched some late-night TV. Rush Hour was on.” I watch her face to see if anything is clicking and continue. “The only thing that annoyed me were the possums outside. Those cheeky marsupials. I swear they just want to torment Duke all night.”

  “Oh.” Her face blanches slightly, and my pulse quickens. She chuckles, but nothing in her expression tells me she remembers last night. Yet. I need to try harder.

  “I was worried about you, though,” I confide. “I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t want to risk being dismembered either.”

  “Thanks for coming back.”

  “Wild bulls couldn’t keep me away.”

  She gazes at me for a moment before shifting her legs out of the blanket and onto the floor. The strap of her halter-top falls forward. “I’m going to have a quick shower. Piper left some clothes in our bottom bathroom, as I’m going to struggle going up the stairs.” Her fingers wrap around the couch side while my feet move quickly to the ground.

  “Let me help you,” I say, as I cup her under the arm.

  “I stink,” she moans, her nose wrinkling. Fuck, she’s cute.

  “I’m not smelling you, I’m helping you walk over there.”

  She takes a few small steps, and her face relaxes slightly. “It’s not as bad as I thought. It aches, but I can walk if you want to let go.”

  “Nope. Not a chance.”

  “You just want to show off your muscles.”

  “Well, I didn’t have them when I was a teenager, so why not?” I joke and feel her arm stiffen under my hand. We arrive at the bathroom door, and I release her, but not before I throw in one last line. This is fun. “I almost rode my bike here, but I didn’t want to cause a collision. Nobody wants to see that on a Sunday morning.”

  And with that, I watch her shoulders shoot back, as she steps into the bathroom, slams the door, and yells an almighty, “FUCK!”

  I hear her feet shuffling quickly. Then I hear her retching, followed by the flushing of the toilet. And more swearing.

  Oh, yeah, she remembers all right.

  Letty

  Oh shit, fuck, shit. Shit, fuckery shit. I brace against the counter and look in the mirror. What the hell have I done? Flashes of me sitting on the couch with my laptop spring to mind in some kind of post-hangover whirlwind. I remember writing an email and being really mad. Now, my words are coming back and hitting me in the face.

  Your arse is so not hot.... Your scruff.… And, the worst—Do you have a license for that?

  Oh my God. He knows I have a nickname for his penis. I’m in so much trouble. Holy shitballs. Is it worth trying to fit through the tiny window and escape? My stomach rolls at the thought.

  I was sure I had my email in the sender field.… How the hell did it end up being sent to him? Unless … no. She wouldn’t. Surely?

  My hand flattens against my stomach as another wave of nausea churns it. I breathe in and out to help stop the motions.

  Flicking my eyes to the clothes Piper left me on the counter, I groan as the oversized T-shirt that Odette got me stares back at me, with the caption, “Vodka made me do it.” Oh, Piper, you cow. Even getting my wardrobe to mock me. If I wasn’t at risk of upchucking or screwing up my ankle, I’d totally kick your arse right now. I lift the shirt and groan. I’m going to kill her. Folded neatly under it are a pair of black leggings with kisses, love hearts, and the inscription “kiss me” written all over them. Never thought I’d live to regret a sale item. Next Valentine’s Day, I’m going to avoid shopping down the loser aisle.

  Piper Manus, you’re on my shit list. An errant curl springs forward, and I tuck it behind my ear, raising my eyes to the mirror. Oh, no. Wrong move. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as Frankenstein’s Bride stares back at me. My hair could touch Mars. What the hell is my makeup doing? I touch my cheek for a moment, pulling my wayward hair to the side and noting the tracks of mascara and bronzer littering my cheekbones.

  I don’t just feel like death. I look like its cheap whore sister. Cole has been talking to me while I look like this.

  I open the shower door, and I turn the water on while unzipping my dress. Sore ankle be damned—I need to make this zombie bride disappear.

  My clothes are practically torn off as I dash under the spray, letting out a pretty colourful selection of words as the water hasn’t heated up yet. I grab the bottle of liquid daisy soap and fill my palm, then lather it all over my body. I shudder to think of what I smell like.

  The water flows down my back as I rest my forehead against the tiles. I could wash my hair again to waste more time. The tho
ught of re-entering my living room is enough to make my stomach churn. Funny how I can sit and talk to Cole, feeling average, but it wasn’t until I remembered last night in full that I became sicker than ever. What the hell am I going to find when I get out? Will Cole fire me? Demand to read the other emails? Oh, God. I have a folder full of them. So many thoughts. So many times I’ve let loose. How could I be so stupid? I shudder at the thought.

  He was kind just then, though. He touched my knee, all while I was thinking about what a bitch I’d been last night. I hope it’s not a trap. My mind is so addled with doubt and worry. The stupidity from last night isn’t helping either.

  Oh, stuff it. My fingers curl around the taps as I shut them both off. It’s time to face the music. Surely, it’ll be better than what’s playing in my head.

  I get ready as quickly as I can, knowing that he’s out there waiting. My clothes feel tight against my tense skin, despite the fabric of my shirt hanging loose. My ankle aches from standing on it so long, so I leave with one direction in mind—the couch. No use hiding when Mr. Super Fit Muscly Guy could catch me in an instant. Ugh … yeah, that line comes back and haunts me, too. The one I crushed on. Oh. Fuck my life.

  I open the door slowly, my body tense with trepidation. Show time. I’m never drinking vodka again. Ever. As the door passes my face, I find the couch neatly done up with the blanket folded at the end. The coffee table is bare, and the windows and blinds to the room are open and drawn. Soft sunlight reflects off our dining table near the kitchen, which is where Cole is seated with a notebook in front of him, his eyes on me.

  A nervous smile brushes my lips. Please tell me that’s not a letter firing me.

  I step out, and his eyes lower to my legs. “Do you need me?” His voice is tender. No trace of

  malice.

  “No, I can do it.” I begin hobbling to the couch but decide that my folks didn’t raise me to be a coward, so I go straight over to him, even if my eyes are looking everywhere but his face. My face heats, as I feel his eyes on me, before a low chuckle captures my attention.