by Em Taylor
“Oh yeah. He’s into you.”
I scoffed. “I have too many essays due to bother with boys right now.”
“You don’t think he’s cute? His pal is cute. I’d do him.”
I considered his friend, then shook my head. “He needs a belt. His jeans are only covering half his arse. I don’t need to know he wears batman boxers.”
“That’s what I find cute.”
“You lack standards.” I said as Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) by Beyoncé came on. “Come on, let’s dance.”
We got into our groove, dancing while trying not to spill our pints of snakebite—a half pint each of cider and lager. The two guys who had been checking us out inched nearer, dancing in a manner that suggested it was some form of mating ritual. I wanted to laugh, but I suspected they were quite drunk. In fact, I was getting a little drunk too.
When the one with suitably pulled-up jeans took my free hand and led me away from Olivia, I followed him, and the guy she fancied did the same thing. However, we were watching out for each other, and neither of us would be deserted for a guy.
“My pal fancies your pal,” said the cute guy.
“I thought he did.”
“Well we need to practice for the first dance at their wedding when we’re best man and bridesmaid.”
“Really?” That was the worst chat up line ever. “Pretty sure Single Ladies is not a good first dance choice.”
“Maybe I should put a ring on you and snap you up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t chat up girls often, do you?”
He shrugged. “I’m shy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Shy. I’m Lacey.”
He laughed. “No. I’m Rory. I mean ...”
“I know what you meant. Relax. You’ll never get a pretty girl if you’re all nervous.”
“So you’re saying I don’t stand a chance with you because I’m nervous?”
Was he calling me pretty? I cocked my head to the side. “I ...”
He shook his head as if he was trying to restart. “I haven’t seen you in the QMU before.”
“I don’t come here often. I usually hang about Garscube campus.”
“A vet?”
“Not yet, but I hope so one day. And you?”
“Modern Languages. French and Italian.”
I nodded. “Tres bien.”
“God, your French accent is awful, but it’s sexy as hell.” He kept his voice low as he stepped closer to me. I inched away, but my back knocked against the high bar table, sandwiching me in.
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I said as he lowered his head, his lips drawing closer.
“Compliment, definitely.”
Rory plucked the drink out of my hand and reached behind me, placing both our drinks on the table.
Straightening, he dropped his gaze to my lips then back to my eyes. Holding my gaze, he inched forward, closing the small gap between us to slant his lips over mine. I tensed, becoming rigid in his arms. What am I doing? I’m not the type of girl to have one dance then snog for the rest of the night. But he’s so sexy. A growl came from his throat as he pushed his tongue past my teeth into my mouth. I curled my fingers into his hair, and he tugged my hips closer to him, pressing his erection against me.
While my body was desperate to respond, my brain told me I wasn’t ready. I slowed the kiss then pulled my mouth away.
He lifted one hand and cupped my cheek, angling my face to look into my eyes. A slow smile crept across his lips. “I like you a lot. I think that’s obvious, but I’ll wait until you’re ready to go further than kissing on the dancefloor. I’ll give you my digits and leave the ball in your court.”
I bit my lip. He could tell. “Rory, you’re lovely, but you’ve obviously had loads of experience. I ...”
“Shh, I’ve had enough to know how to make you feel good at your pace, but I’m not a manwhore. Give me a chance. I’d like to see you again.”
I nodded. Something about him intrigued me and I enjoyed his kiss.
He pulled me in for another, tangling his fingers in my hair this time and pressing his other hand against my arse to hold me against the large rod in his jeans. I ran one hand down his back and over his tight arse.
We continued to kiss, and two or three songs changed before he pulled away, stroking my face with his knuckle. I peered over his shoulder to where Olivia and Rory’s friend were chatting and drinking.
“Give me your phone so I can put my number in it,” Rory said.
I took my phone out of my hip pocket and opened it to contacts, setting up a new one and typing in his name.
He typed in his number and I turned to pick up my drink.
“Woah!” He grabbed the drink from me. “We’ve not been watching it. You’ve no idea what’s in it.” He laid the drink back on the table. “I’ll get you a new one.”
“It’s fine. I need to go anyway. I’ll grab a drink at home.”
“Coffee in Starbucks tomorrow? One o’clock?” he asked.
I smiled. “Sure.”
“I think your friend is ready to go.” He smiled and nodded at Olivia who was putting on her coat and giving Rory’s friend a kiss on the cheek.
We walked over to them together and I linked arms with Olivia. As we made a move to leave, I glanced over my shoulder at Rory. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
Rory
I’D BEEN SUMMONED TO a meeting at Olivia’s flat. I wanted to give it a miss, but I wouldn’t hurt Olivia and David for the world. I could suck up another meeting with Lacey, since she’d made her feelings plain at the cake tasting.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted her. I’d lost count of the times I wanted to reconnect and picked up the phone to call Olivia and ask for Lacey’s number. However, I never had the guts.
Although, seeing her in the bar ... it had been like fate. All that long auburn hair waving as she held court, telling some story. Her smile lit up the whole pub and my cock had stirred in my Calvin Klein’s like it always had.
I wasn’t so sure going backwards was a good idea. I was still into her—still loved her, in fact—but the damage was too deep. Sometimes when you destroyed a thing, it couldn’t be put back together again, no matter how good the glue. I recalled a school trip to the St Mungo’s Museum of Religious Life and Art. In those days Salvador Dali’s The Christ of St John of the Cross was on display there. It had been damaged by a vandal in the 1960s, and while the restorers did a great job, you could still see the damage. Perhaps I had vandalised what I had with Lacey beyond the best restorer’s abilities.
I’d play it cool. I’d got over her before, and I didn’t have to get over her this time, since there was nothing to get over. Two meetings and the tiniest bit of flirtation didn’t count. It was nothing. I could do one more meeting around mutual friends.
David welcomed me into Olivia’s little flat in Kelvinbridge. It was more of a bedsit really. Olivia didn’t make much money, but she’d been determined to be self-sufficient, refusing to move in with David until the wedding. Which reminded me, I needed to find myself a flat. I had more than enough money saved, and I could get something decent—somewhere like the place Lacey lived. I earned enough and my outgoings were modest. I could have a proper bachelor pad like in the movies instead of my dingy flat in White Street. Our landlord was the “if it isn’t rat-infested, it’s fine” kind. And until now, I’d had simple tastes.
Lacey lounged on the bed, feet up, shoes off, her elbow on the pillow, typing on her phone and smiling. Of course, she looked fucking gorgeous.
Jealousy surged through me. “Someone interesting on Tinder?”
She glanced up from her screen. “WhatsApp work group chat. There was this sick cat ... Oh never mind.”
“Why? We’re all dying to hear about the cat.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t recall you being this much of a prick when we were together, Rory. Have you hit your midlife crisis early or something? I’m s
ure buying a Ferrari would suit you better than being a douchebag.”
Lacey certainly still knew how to deliver a burn to a guy. However, with my usual bravado, I grinned and dropped down to sit on the sofa. “You always were a bit high strung when you had PMT, Lace.”
Okay, I was being a dick—and a sexist one—but it annoyed me she wasn’t more bothered by all this as I was.
“I’m actually on my period. Last day, so I can confirm it’s you being a dickhead that’s annoying me, not a hormonal imbalance. But good try.”
“Yo, time out children,” said Olivia, walking between us and holding her hands up as if keeping us apart. “No need to make me practice my mummying skills yet. My first scan showed there’s only one of these little critters in here, so I have another few years before I need to become a referee between siblings.”
I snorted. “I can assure you, Liv, my feelings towards Lacey have never been fraternal.”
I looked over at Lacey. She caught my gaze, her cheeks turning pink as she bit her lip and tried not to laugh.
“Yeah, I know.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “I shared a flat with Lacey when you guys got together, remember? You two could get pretty loud.”
“Second that,” said David. “As your flatmate in the early days of your relationship, I can testify to the loudness of both your sex noises.”
I raised my eyebrow at my best friend and then at his fiancée. “Right back at the two of you. You’re hardly quiet yourselves. It’s like the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally.”
Olivia sat on the bed beside Lacey and lifted a hand to high five Lacey. “We do have our men well trained in chick flicks of the eighties and nineties, do we not?”
Lacey gave her friend a sad smile. “Well he’s not ...”
“Anyhoo,” Olivia rushed on, “we have decided the stag and hen nights are going to take place in Byres Road, and we will all meet up and go into town to a club after.”
“Woah, are you saying we can’t go to a strip club?” I asked. “It’s a rite of passage for a man getting married.”
Olivia looked at David. “You don’t want to go to a strip club, do you hon?”
David glanced from his fiancée to me and shrugged.
I lifted my hand and made a whipping gesture. Then I made the mistake of checking out Lacey’s reaction. She was glowering at me.
I moved over to the bed and sat beside my ex, placing a hand on her knee while David promised Olivia he wasn’t bothered about strippers.
“Hey, I was joking,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be so immature.”
“You used to like my jokes.”
“You used to be funny.”
“I still am. I’m still a lot of things you used to like.” I crawled around her and sat next to her with my back to the pillows.
She smiled at me shyly, as if not quite sure what to do about this turn of events. She reminded me a little of the girl I had first met in the Queen Margaret Union.
“How’s work?” I asked Lacey.
She raised an eyebrow, surprised I was interested in something that mattered to her. But I always had been. I’d never been a douche—apart from at the end.
“It’s great, really. I love working with the animals,” she said.
“And the humans?”
She smiled. “I like my colleagues. It’s the rules I hate. The fact we have to charge ridiculous amounts for basic health care for pets.”
“Don’t the PDSA have a centre for pet health care if you’re on benefits?”
Again with the eyebrow arched in surprise.
Jesus, she really did have a low opinion of me. I loved her. I’d been with her every step of the way.
“You worked there when you were a student vet,” I said.
“Oh yeah, of course. It was the year you were in France. Maybe that’s why I thought you wouldn’t know.”
“I knew everything, Lacey. I loved you. I contacted you every single day when I was in France for my course. I listened and paid attention. I’m kind of bummed you think I didn’t, if I’m honest. Yes, I was a complete dick to you at the end, but when we were together, I was all in.”
She bit her lip, then frowned. “I hated you for a long time.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“You broke my heart.”
“I know.”
“You hurt my family. They fucking loved you.”
She might as well have stabbed me with a knife. She would never know how much I missed her family. Her mum and dad had treated me like a son, and her little brother had hero-worshipped me. He was the brother I never had, and while Lacey had found him an irritating bother at times, I loved playing football with him, showing him how to play hockey, and then having him show me the difference between hockey and the Scottish game of shinty. His parents even brought him down to watch some of my University of Glasgow hockey matches.
“Lace, you know how much I loved your family. I was a complete idiot.”
“And here you are again, all sweet, and kind, and sexy. I won’t let you do it again.”
I grinned. “You think I’m sexy?”
She lay back on the pillow and face-palmed. “Trust you to take only that word from everything I said.”
“Sexy is good. It means you want me.”
She leaned over me, fixing me in place with a heated gaze as she cupped my crotch and ran her thumb up and down, causing my cock to stiffen. “You’re right, I do want you.”
“You missed my big cock, didn’t you, Lace?”
“Maybe.” She continued to move her hand, making me harder by the second.
“Then forget everything in the past and let’s try again.”
She snapped her hand back and her gaze darkened. “No matter how good you were, Rory, I will never let you hurt me or my family again. You will never get that close. Got it?” She rolled off the bed and picked up her coat. To everyone she announced, “This was easy to organise. We go to our respective pubs until eleven, then cabs into the town, and we’ll go to The Garage for the rest of the night. I gotta go. Toodle pip.”
She hurried away without a glance back, leaving me horny and in no doubt about how she really felt. I had my work cut out if I was going to get her back. However, did I actually want her back?
The little witch sashayed out the door, and memories of her bare arse swaying out of our bedroom in my tiny flat as she would go to the kitchen for some water after one of our marathon sex sessions assaulted me.
Did I want her back? Hell yes, I did. But I had a lot of making amends to do, and I had no idea how to do it.
It was going to be a long haul, but I was determined.
Chapter 11
Lacey
I SAT IN THE ITALIAN restaurant on my own, perusing the menu and sipping the merlot I ordered after I arrived five minutes early. At seven p.m., Rory arrived, all smiles and looking sexy in a black shirt and black jeans. Would it be wrong to have sex with him for old times’ sake?
No, Lacey. Stop having sexy thoughts about your ex. Down girl.
“Hey, I have a confession to make,” he said, sitting opposite me and accepting a menu from the waitress. “I’ll have a Bud, please,” he said to the young girl. She nodded and left.
“Oh?”
“Olivia and David aren’t coming. I got you here under false pretences. We need to talk about the hen and stag dos.”
“Really?” I folded my arms over my chest and his gaze followed the action. I huffed out a breath and sat forward. “You lied.”
“A little white lie.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Lace, I know you hate me, but we need to sort out this thing with the hen and stags. They’re lame, and our friends should go out in style. Don’t you think?”
I shook my head. “It’s only a small wedding, and it’s only two weeks away. You can’t go whoring about for a week in Ibiza.”
He threw his head back and laughed, a real belly laugh. “You’re funny. I was thinking of taking the
guys laser-tagging or go-karting. Sure, I’d love a week in Ibiza, but everyone is skint. I thought you girls could have one of those spa days or something. There’s always internet deals, especially for groups.”
“I think they want a low-key event,” I argued.
“Because they don’t want to put financial pressure on people. Look, people can opt out of the activities they can’t afford, but if we get great deals, most people should be able to afford them.”
“And if the girls want to go go-karting?”
He grinned again. “Have at it, babe.”
My belly did a little flip. He hadn’t called me babe in years, yet it felt so familiar. I could hear him in my head, oh babe, I need to taste you now.
“Well?”
“Hmm?”
“You zoned out.”
“Sorry. I had a breakthrough about a ... err ... pussy ... cat.”
“R-i-i-i-ght. I love me some pussy ... cat.”
I narrowed my gaze and delved deep for indignation. “It’s a problem at work I’ve been trying to figure out. Don’t be disgusting, Rory.”
“Your face is red.”
I clamped my palms to my cheeks and sighed. “Fuck off.”
He chuckled and pulled one of my hands away from my face, lifting my knuckles to his lips and kissing them tenderly. “In your own time, you can tell me about that pussy ... cat. Until then, do you want to see some of the deals I found? Let me show you on my phone.”
Damn, why is he so perfect?
I nodded, but the waitress came up, interrupting us.
“Are you ready to order?” she asked.
“I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs, and the lady will have carbonara, please.” He lifted an eyebrow to check that was all right. It had always been what I ordered at an Italian and still was. I inclined my head slightly.
“Of course. Any garlic bread or other sides?” the waitress asked.
“No thanks. The lady doesn’t like too much garlic.” He smiled at the waitress, who I’m sure gave a sigh, as he squeezed my hand he was still holding.
I tugged my hand away and put it under the table, pressing it against my groin which was way more excited than it should be.