by Daws, Amy
He glances over at me, allowing me to pass him on the steps. “I just assumed.”
I pause and look up at him. “He’s a coworker I thought could do with a night out.”
Hayden’s brow furrows. “I think he’ll need a morning in after this.”
I laugh softly and continue our descent. Hayden opens the car door for me again, and his crabby expression from before seems slightly lifted.
“Benji’s snog soften you up a bit?” I ask as he starts the car and pulls away.
“What do you mean?”
“You seemed rather moody earlier. It seems Benji’s affection warmed you up.”
As if compliments crush him, his eyes turn back into slits. “Where do you live?”
“Oh, you don’t have to take me home. Just take me back to the ballroom. I’ll grab a cab there.”
“Where…do…you…live?” he repeats slower and with more force.
“You are awfully bossy for someone who’s only spoken one word to me before tonight.”
“You’re awfully sassy for someone whose dog has licked my balls.”
“What?” I exclaim and start laughing. “Is that what all this fuss is about? Are you mad at Bruce?”
“Of course not.” Hayden scowls, looking out the side window. “But I really need to know where I’m going.”
Sighing heavily, I tell him I live by Brick Lane Market and he gives me a shocked look.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
He’s back to the silent treatment for several more miles. This man’s temperature changes are making me feel like I have the flu. Finally desperate to break the silence, I say the first thing that pops in my head.
“You…did well up there tonight.” I fidget with the outer layer of fabric on my dress, pinching it and rolling the smooth material between my fingers. “It was a very moving speech.”
I’m dying to look at his face to gauge his reaction, but I’m too scared. Instead, I do something really smart. I continue babbling.
“I was always crap at speeches. I’d clam up and lose my words. Then I’d look down at my notes and everything would suddenly look backwards. One time I belched right in the middle of the speech. I think the class thought I was going to puke like poor Benji.” I laugh awkwardly and look out the widow, slamming my eyes shut tightly. Shut up, Vi. Shut up!
Thankfully, he chuckles and says, “Thanks. It wasn’t easy.” I can’t help but glance back at him. His hands are gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Just trying to bring awareness and help raise funds to support others in need. It’s more common than you’d think.”
His demeanour transforms from an agitated, cagey alpha to a cool, suave business man. It seems like an act.
“I know. I mean, I can imagine…I mean…Bugger…” My voice trails off and I look away, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Clearing my throat, I decide to pry further. “Have you done a speech like that before?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“So this was kind of a big night then.” He continues to squint against the city lights, appearing deep in thought. Feeling brazen, I add, “I, erm, actually have questions…if you ever want to answer them. I mean, of course you don’t have to. But if you do want to, I’d be interested to learn more.”
Questions? Christ, Vi, why didn’t you just tell him you’re a morbid freak who sleeps with porcelain dolls?
Silence stretches out between us again and he looks confused.
“Do you mean questions about the charity?” he asks, his voice low.
“That and other things,” I answer. I’m curious about many things regarding Hayden. I’m not sure I’ve been this intrigued by a male in my entire life. His speech did nothing to deter that curiosity.
“Are you a suicide survivor?” he asks.
“No,” I reply, frowning.
“Do you know someone who is?”
“No.”
“Then what on earth do you care to know more about?”
“You,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t seem to like my answer. His jaw clenches as we drive around the familiar streets to my neighbourhood. I exhale and look out the window, feeling like an absolute prat. I went from loathing him to wanting to pick his brain. Now I just want out of this tense car of emotion.
“This is me,” I say, pointing to the curb in front of my alley.
He pulls up in front of the Hookah Lounge that’s illuminating the entire sidewalk with its glowing neon purple and green sign. The doors are drizzling with people wafting in and out with big puffs of smoke billowing out each time they open.
Just as I begin to thank him, he hops out of the car and walks around to open my door. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, clambering out.
“Which is yours?”
“I’m just down this alley. I’ll be fine. Thanks again,” I say, waving and attempting to scurry away from him with my tail tucked between my legs.
He ignores my dismissal and begins walking toward the dimly lit alley. I remain still on the sidewalk and say, “Mr. Bossy is back again, I see.”
He stops and turns on his heel to glare at me. The purple light is shinning through his dishevelled spiky hair and gives him a tasty glow. I glance down to see the green light is reflecting on my dress. I try crossing my arms over my chest to look more intimidating now that I’m the colour of the Hulk.
“I’m not about to let a beautiful woman in an evening gown walk down an alley at night by herself.” His voice has an edge of annoyance to it. “Some people would call it gentlemanly.”
Beautiful. He said beautiful. My nerves sizzle beneath my skin as that one word uttered from his perfectly shaped mouth instantly made him hot to me again. Okay, fine. He never stopped being hot. But with the way he’s been behaving, I was trying my hardest to be put off by him.
“I’m not some people.”
With a huff of a laugh, he replies, “I’ve gathered.”
He unbuttons his suit coat and opens it just enough to slide his hands into his trouser pockets. My eyes follow the action and land right on his crotch. I look up and the cheeky bugger is smirking at me. I look away, feeling mortified once again. So much for a Hulk smash.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not quite going home yet.”
His scowl returns as his jaw shifts back and forth in obvious annoyance. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have an errand to run.”
“An errand. At nearly”—he looks at his watch—“eleven o’clock at night. What on earth—”
“It was my birthday on Wednesday, and I still haven’t had my cake. There’s a bakery around the corner that closes in five minutes. If you don’t shut up and leave, I’m not going to get my birthday cake and I bloody well love cake.” I think I stamp my foot, but I’m too busy thinking about cake to notice.
“Cake. You want cake?”
I nod earnestly.
“Well then, let’s get some cake.”
FUCKING CAKE, I THINK TO myself as I follow Vi past the Hookah Lounge. She smiles at some of the eclectic-looking patrons, and my gaze simmers down her bare shoulders, all the way to the curve of her back that leads to her pert arse.
Fucking hell, she really is gorgeous.
Aside from her lithe and feminine body, it’s her face that captures me. She’s got round, rosy cheeks that make her look sweet and innocent, but her eyes portray something entirely different. They slant upward in a way that makes her look sexy as hell in a feline sort of way. Her long blonde hair contrasts with her dark brows and thick lashes. The combination of all her features is sexy as fuck.
Why are you doing this, Hayden? You should have let her go get her own bloody cake. The last thing you should be doing is distracting yourself.
But fuck if I didn’t get an immense sense of satisfaction when her eyes glimpsed down at my package and her pupils dilated ever so slightly. She feels it. She feels whatever this strange, magnetic pull is between us. It’s mom
ents like this that I would give anything to close my eyes and wish away the dark choices I’ve made in my life and have it come true. Meeting a gorgeous, luminous girl who seems like she’s got her life together is not something that happens every day. If this were five years ago, before Marisa died, I’d turn on my cocky boyish charm, grab her by the waist, and tell her to fuck the dessert…That we could make our own.
“Here we are,” she says softly, snapping me out of my reverie. “You want one?”
I nod and notice her rubbing her slender arms as if she’s cold.
“Any allergies?”
I shake my head and she orders two cakes from the small to-go window of the brick building. There’s a glass door with BOLT FROM THE BLUE CAKES scrawled on it and there appears to be a darkened seating area inside.
I shrug out of my suit coat and drape it over her shoulders. She turns her head and our eyes connect again, like they have been all night. But this time, instead of feeling annoyance, I only feel attraction. Carnal, chemical attraction. Damn if it doesn’t feel good, too.
The employee comes back to the window with two brown boxes. I quickly grab a tenner out of my pocket and hand it over.
“I can buy my own cake,” she says, leaning her back against the brick wall. She watches me take my change with a coquettish look that makes it hard for me not to smile.
“You can’t buy your own birthday cake. That’s bad luck or something.”
“Superstitious much?” she asks, grabbing one of the boxes from my hands.
Instead of answering her question, I change the subject. “So why didn’t you get your birthday cake on your birthday?”
Her blue gaze casts downward and a look of discomfort mars her pretty features.
“Did I hit a button?” I ask, frowning.
She swallows and shakes off my query. “It’s nothing. I just never really enjoy celebrating on my actual birthday. It’s like…a thing with me. There’s always so much expectation for the day to be perfect and for you to hear from all the right people. The anxiety, and the pressure, and the specialness of that one day a year annoys me. Life isn’t like that. It’s not perfect. It’s unexpected. Birthdays aren’t always a great day. Sometimes they are sad. And now I’m rambling.” She gestures over to a small metal patio table and chairs nearby and adds, “Enough of that! I hope you like surprises!”
As we sit down, my curiosity about her is only piqued more. She’s definitely got some strange hang up about her birthday. I know asking questions will only make things extra personal, so I decide to shift my focus to the box in my hand. When I open it, I find a chocolate frosted cupcake with a white sprinkled dusting on top. Before I remove the wrapper, I peek over to watch Vi open hers.
She’s got a soft smile on her face like she’s sharing some private memory with herself as she peels back the wax paper. She chews on her lip excitedly before opening her mouth and sinking her teeth into the white frosted cupcake. Her eyes close in ecstasy.
“I win,” she groans, the streetlight casting a warm glow on her platinum blonde hair.
“Win what?” I ask, attempting to conceal my look of amusement.
“Life,” she beams, then licks the bit of frosting stuck to the arch of her lip.
I huff and take a bite. “Okay, I might see what you mean now.” I have to physically restrain myself from closing my eyes and moaning.
“Told you,” she says, extending her cupcake to me. “Let me try yours.”
“No!” I exclaim defensively.
Her blue eyes turn to saucers. “Are you joking? Why ever not?”
“It’s mine. You’re winning life. I’m winning the afterlife. This cake is life-changing. I’ve died and gone to Heaven, and they serve cake.” I turn back to my coveted dessert, but secretly smirk at her exasperated huff.
“I can’t believe you!”
I shoot her a dangerous glower. “I’m not a sharer…of many things.” I slide my eyes down to her bust in a possessive stare before sinking my teeth into another bite.
Her amused face falls in response to my serious expression, and her eyes lock on my mouth as I chew. She draws her lush lower lip into her mouth and bites down on the pink flesh. My gaze drifts to her lip and then shoots back up to her stunning blue eyes.
Christ, this is so wrong.
“But it’s my birthday.” Her voice is husky as she shifts to the edge of her seat and rolls her shoulders forward, extending her line of cleavage.
That, coupled with her flirtatious smile, makes me feel things in all areas south of my neck. Suddenly, I am desperate to kiss her. “You said Wednesday was your birthday.”
She shrugs her small shoulders that are nestled inside my large jacket. “Close enough.”
Just then, my eyes widen as I realise I’ve lost track of time. I glance down at my watch the second 11:11 ticks over to 11:12.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, my previous mood evaporating instantly. “Nothing. Here.” I hand her my cupcake and refuse the offer of hers.
She looks hurt and confused, her eyes full of questions, but I don’t have time to worry about that. I lean over and alternate gripping the cuffs on my wrists and curse myself for losing track of time, tonight of all nights.
“Are you about done?” I ask, my tone clipped.
“Quite,” she snaps and slips out of my jacket, depositing it on the table in front of me. She chucks the barely eaten cupcakes into the nearby bin and begins walking toward her flat.
Fuck. Now what? I snatch my jacket up and hustle to catch up to her, tossing it back over her goose-pimpled shoulders. “Will you please keep this on? It’s brass monkeys out here.”
“I don’t need it!” she snaps and turns to face me. “Look, Hayden. Thank you for walking me to get cake, but I can’t keep up with your mood swings. I’d just like to say goodnight.”
I exhale and slice my hand through my hair. I’ve hurt her feelings. That wasn’t what I was going for. I just got caught up. “I just—” I start but stop because I don’t know how to say that without sharing every sordid detail.
“You just what?” She stamps her foot. I idly make a mental note that that’s the second time she’s stamped her foot at me, and it’s cute as fuck. But I shouldn’t be noticing how anything she does is cute.
“I just have a lot going through my mind, Vi. You heard my speech tonight. It’s no bloody secret. 11:11 is kind of an important time on my radar and I missed it.”
“What do you mean you missed it? What would you have done?”
I shake my head knowing that there’s no way I’m going to unload all of that on her. I haven’t unloaded all of that on anyone. Not even Doc.
“Fine, Hayden. I told you I have questions and that I’m curious, but you’re obviously not able or interested in sharing yet. So, like I said, probably just best we say goodnight.”
I nod my head and follow her lead as she turns to continue our journey back to her flat. As we walk, Doc’s Countdown Challenge keeps churning over and over in my mind. He’s fucking spot-on. Telling my story to a ballroom full of blank faces was miles easier than telling even one shred of my truth to Vi.
When we round the corner to her alleyway entrance, she says, “Thanks for the ride…and for the cake.” She slides my jacket off and hands it to me, looking a little sad. “I wish you luck with all things.”
As I grab my jacket, our fingers graze and the spark that I felt earlier is back. I swear her chest rises with a gasp as our eyes connect. Then she narrows her baby blues with a renewed sense of determination. Just like that, I’m no longer concerned about 11:11. I’m concerned about all things Vi.
Desperate not to say goodbye to her, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Would you want to help me with something?”
Her brow furrows. “Depends what it is.”
I rustle my jacket in my hands and look down at it as I reply, “Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a prat tonight, b
ut I have this challenge I’m supposed to complete. I’m thinking if it is you who helps me, maybe you will get why I’m being like this toward you.”
She swallows. “What kind of challenge?”
Christ, she looks terrified of you, Hayden! “Well, you said you are curious about my story. If that’s true, then hopefully it wouldn’t bother you too much. Basically, I have to tell you about the days leading up to my, erm, attempt.”
She nods seriously without uttering a word. God, I feel like a fucking fool. This is awkward and horrible. I hate Doc. He’s a fucking wanker. “It’s not pretty…and it’s not easy. It’s dark and it’s fucked. I was in a bad place.”
“I’ll do it.”
“This is a bad idea. I’ll find somebody else,” I continue nervously, hardly recognising her reply.
“I’ll do it.”
“Or I’ll tell my doctor to get stuffed. He’s a little unconventional, so—”
“I said I’ll do it!” she exclaims, swatting me on the arm and snapping me out of my internal chastisement.
“Could have just said so,” I mumble, secretively grinning at her. I rub my arm where she whacked me, feeling somewhat shocked by her strength. I look into her eyes and I’m surprised to see a look of confidence that wasn’t there before. “Okay then,” I reluctantly agree, noting the determined set of her jaw.
“I would like to hear your story, Hayden Clarke,” she adds. Her breaths come deeply as if she knows what she’s agreed to and is invigorated by the challenge. The pain. The anguish of it all.
My chest feels heavy from the intensity behind her blue eyes. The willingness and complete trust she’s got in me to share this with her is a lot. “Then I have a very serious question to ask you.”
“Go on,” she says, curiously arching one brow.
“May I have your phone number?” Fuck if I’m not anxious asking for her bloody digits. I’ve been out of the game too long.
She shoots me a saucy smirk and it relieves me. I give her my phone and she punches her digits in. When I reach to take it back, she pulls it out of my grasp just before handing it over. Her brazen playfulness is a huge fucking turn-on. It’s like someone who laughs instead of screams when they sky jump out of an airplane. And the fact that it’s coming from this willowy sexy blonde is mind-boggling.
