by Karina Halle
“Look, I’m not a psychic, I don’t know what happened. But the fact is that Blake is a fuckboy you should never fuck and I’ve got daddy issues now and so the two of us are better off in here, with each other, getting drunk.”
I eye her dryly, knowing very well that she’ll be leaving this place with someone and it won’t be me.
Half an hour later, I’m right. She’s slowly applying pale lip gloss to her lips and looking over at three guys by the bar. The cutest one, slim, tall, tattoos, is going wild with eye contact. Another one, a trim beard and big arms, waves at her. Man, they’re forward.
“Do you know them?” I ask her.
She grins slyly at me. “Dated them both. Not at the same time though but it’s the same circle of friends.”
This doesn’t surprise me but still. “What?”
She shrugs and flips her crazy hair over her shoulder. “You want to meet men, go hang out at the marina bars. Those guys with boats sure know how to use their hands. They rigged me up six ways from Sunday. Once again, not together,” she pauses, running her tongue over her teeth. “Though who knows tonight. Why don’t you come over and I’ll introduce you? You know you need to get laid.”
“I’m not having any part of your exes or your orgy.”
“The other guy might be single.”
“I’ll pass.” I sigh and bring out my phone to call a cab and leave her to this wicked web she’s spun. “Please don’t bang two exes at the same time or I’m going to get confused.”
She wiggles her fingers at me. No promises.
With my cab on the way, I make my way to the door, a light rain coming down and making the brick alley shine in the night. I look back at Rio inside who so easily sits at the bar with her exes and smiles like she doesn’t have a care in the world and wonder why it can’t be that easy for me.
I blow a wayward strand out of my hair and walk down the street to catch the cab.
“Good luck today,” Ana says to me before she darts off to her school. “If you need his balls ripped off, you know who to call.” She makes a clawing motion with her bright pink nails and heads out the door, her makeup case in tow.
I nod, wiping my brow on my sleeve. After waking up with an aching head and knowing I’d have to see Blake today, I went for a long run along the water, trying to get out my frustration. I’m exhausted now but still have this uneasiness in my stomach that I’m really hoping doesn’t translate into me getting sick. The last thing I want is to puke in class. Or, really, ever again.
I haven’t spoken to Blake since yesterday, nor have I texted or emailed him and he’s responded in kind. Because of this I know that class is going to be completely awkward and I have no idea whether I should address what happened or not. I mean I’m sure other classmates blow off their assigned partners too from time to time but this just happens to feel so personal and I’m not sure why.
Luckily once I get to school, I spot Rio about to head up the stairs.
“Hey,” I call after her and hurry to catch up. “What happened with your exes last night, you never texted me.”
She gives me a dry look and I realize she’s still wearing not only her makeup from last night but the same clothes. “Ugh. I can’t wait to shower all this regret off of me,” she says, sounding wrecked. Then her eyes grow round as she looks over my shoulder. “Heads up, Hugh Grant Jr. is coming your way.”
I turn to see Blake coming toward me. Shit.
I quickly whip around just as Rio is abandoning me, running up the stairs.
“You bitch,” I mutter under my breath and try to inhale deeply.
“Amanda,” Blake says crisply to my back.
I slowly turn around, raising my brow. “No nickname this time?”
His gives me a wary smile. “Oh I’ve got plenty but they’re all very inappropriate during a proper grovel.”
“This is you grovelling?”
He chews on his lip for a moment and looks away, his eyes shifting from dark grey to dark blue in the dim light of the hallway. “I’m sorry I cancelled last night,” he says, focus on me again, brows raised in offering. “You forgive me?”
Shit. He’s got one hell of a sweet face when he wants to be sweet. Those dimples, the puppy dog eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Maybe,” I say. “That really pissed me off. You’re not the only who has a life you know, I put off things so that we could work together.”
He runs his fingers along the stubble on his chin. His fingers are something else. I’ve only really noticed them as we’ve been working together but my mind has gone a few places imagining what else he can do with them.
And now I know I must be blushing. I clear my throat and stare at him expectantly.
“I know,” he says. “Something came up.”
“Two blondes with, I’m guessing, big tits is what came up.”
He raises his finger. “Actually one had small tits and I never went on a date with them. Her or her tits. That was my mate Heath who did that. At least I assume he did, I actually never heard back from him.”
I guess Rio was right. Not sure why that bothers me. “Then why did you lie?”
He coughs out an incredulous sound. “Because you assumed already that I was cancelling because of some girls.”
“And you weren’t.”
“No,” he says adamantly. “Look, darling, I know this may come as a surprise to you but I have a life that involves more than getting my dick sucked.”
I flinch at his language though I’m not sure it’s because of his crudeness or that it ignited a hot flare of interest inside me. I’m praying for the former. “Well you could have fooled me.”
Some students brush past us, heading to the stairs. Blake reaches out and grabs my elbow, leading me out of their way and over to the wall. His grip on my arm is firm and gentle at the same time and what little intimacy this is surprises me.
He moves me so that my back is against the wall and peers down at me intensely. I’ve seen this look before when he’s discussing his character and it makes me feel slightly off-balance. I swallow thickly.
“I just found out that my dad and stepmum are getting divorced,” he says in a low voice. “It caught me off-guard though clearly I was missing all the signs. Anyway, my stepbrother Kevin was having a hard go of it all. They still haven’t told him but the chap is smart, he knows. They asked me to stay for dinner and I couldn’t say no. I’m really sorry I had to do that, I was looking forward to seeing you.” He pauses, blinking a few times. “I mean, I was looking forward to working with you on the novella. But I don’t mind seeing you either. Especially that arse of yours.”
So many things flying through my head at once. I push the comment about my arse aside since it’s not the first time he’s made some remark about one body part or another. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “You should have just said that.”
“Well I obviously called you to tell you the truth but once you got all fiery like the barmy redhead you are, it was hard not to fan the flames. So I’m sorry for that.” He holds his hand out. “Apology accepted?”
I put my hand in his and he squeezes it tightly. “Accepted.” His brow quirks and I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. “And I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. You had a good excuse.”
“You mean a threesome isn’t a good excuse?”
“Not unless it’s like your life’s goal or something.”
He puts his hand at my back and leads me away from the wall to the stairs. “I’m pretty sure a threesome is every guy’s life goal.”
“Fair enough.”
We head up the stairs and pause outside the classroom just as Ali slides past us, giving Blake the death stare. Clearly she’s still not over him or the Fluffy incident and I’m not sure I blame her.
“My groveling isn’t complete you know,” he says to me.
“Well you haven’t gotten down on your knees,” I muse jokingly, tapping my fingers against my chin.
&n
bsp; “Darling, when I get down on my knees I’ll be paying it back in a different way,” he says and I swear there’s a change in his tone, like his voice got deeper, his accent huskier.
Don’t even picture it, I warn myself.
He goes on. “Dinner. Tonight. After class. My treat.”
My head jerks back like he just grew an extra ear. “Dinner? No way.”
“We’re friends,” he protests.
“We are not friends,” I remind him. “Partners. Classmates. Maybe POW buddies. But we’re not friends.”
“You’re a very cruel woman.”
“I’m a smart woman, but thanks for not referring to me as a girl like usual. Dinner is too intimate and we’re supposed to work, not eat.”
“What about working and then eating?”
“What about just working?”
“What about not being a stick in the mud,” he volleys back.
“What about taking me for a drink,” I finish, surprising myself.
It surprises him too. He grins and those dimples deepen. “All right, a drink. I’m buying.”
“You sure are,” I tell him. “But only after we get some work done.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Interestingly enough, this is the first class where time seems to crawl past. Usually this class is over before I know it and I’m hanging onto Marie’s every word. This time, all I can think about is Blake.
Blake.
Blake.
I’ve turned into the rest of them, feeling strangely satisfied that I’m going for drinks with him after class even though I’m sure it’s what half the girls in here have done. I’m sneaking glances his way and when his eyes meet mine something in my stomach turns over, happily, like a puppy rolling over. But it’s not surrender. It doesn’t even have a name.
At least you’re not thinking about Alan and the colossal mistake you might have made by not saying yes, I remind myself and damn it, it’s like my mother takes possession of my brain every now and then.
By the time class grinds to a halt, I’m wanting a drink more than ever. I walk off with Blake and catch Rio giving me the I knew it look out of the corner of my eye.
“Where to?” I ask as we stride across the parking lot to his car.
“Ever been to Spinnakers?” he asks. “Brew pub out toward Esquimalt?”
I’d heard of it but never been there. Alan was always a fan of the fancier places downtown and certainly not brew pubs.
“Is this place safe?” I ask him as we get inside Mr. Mean, after clearing the usual crap from the passenger seat.
“Safe?” Blake asks leaning toward me, a piece of his messy hair flopping onto his forehead. I fight the urge to reach over and brush it off his face.
“Should I get a poncho for the beer spillage?” I explain.
He laughs, his smile wide and easy. “No, no. Spinnakers is sacred ground for me. I need some place I can go and not have to deal with someone’s wrath.”
“You do realize it would be easier for you to just not screw women over. Maybe just commit every once in a while or at least be honest.”
His eyes darken, the smile fading a touch. “I’ve been nothing but honest.”
There’s something more there, something I want to poke and prod at with a stick, bring it out and examine it on a table. But I don’t say a word, not yet anyway. It’s not like I’ve been all that forthcoming either.
When we get to the pub I can’t believe it’s been here all this time and I’m only just going there now. Granted, I’ve only been of the drinking age for three years but still. I have a lot of catching up to do.
Spinnakers is located at the base of a cove just outside of the downtown core. With the sun hanging low and the weather back to being almost summer-like and perfect with a fresh breeze and blue skies, it looks like the perfect place to spend an afternoon having a few.
I follow him in through the entrance which consists of a bakery and a growler-filling station and we go upstairs where it seems less formal. There’s a pool table and old teak tables tucked into nooks and crannies. The small upstairs deck is already full so we grab a table by the window, across from the fireplace.
“This is nice,” I tell him as we sit down, grabbing the elaborate drink menu.
“I can’t believe you’ve lived in Victoria your whole life and you’ve never been here.”
“You wouldn’t believe a lot of things about myself,” I mumble, absently noting that every cocktail seems to have gin in it. How very English, just like Blake.
“Try me,” he says.
I glance at him over the menu. “Try what?”
He sits back in his chair, all completely at ease and flashes me that smile. “Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t believe.”
I’m not sure if he’s serious or not. “Let me get a drink first.”
Only it’s so very hard to choose. I settle on some raspberry vinegary drink called a “shrub.”
“There’s something you probably wouldn’t believe,” I tell him after the waitress takes our order (and doesn’t seem to bare him any ill-will). “I like my drinks with vinegar in them.” Though it’s a first for me as well.
He cocks his head, seeming to think that over. “I believe it. Ever been to New York?”
I can’t help but sigh. “No. I always wanted to. Even tried to last year, booked the hotel and everything but…things didn’t happen.”
“No money? The city is expensive.”
I lick my lips, hesitating. “I had the money. I mean, my parents would have paid for it.”
I can see a light going off in his head as he nods, the look of this rich bitch.
“Then why?” he asks and I have to give him credit for not saying anything about my privilege.
“Ex-boyfriend. The one I mentioned before.”
“Alan?”
I’m impressed. “You have good memory.”
“There’s a lot of good about me that you don’t know about,” he says lightly though I swear there’s a slight edge to his voice. “Anyway, in New York they have a pickle bar. Actually they have a few pickle bars.”
“A pickle bar,” I repeat.
“Just as the name says. I went a few years ago, got a cheap flight out from Gatwick and spent a week wandering around the city with no plans at all.” He gets this dreamy, faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the fire. He shakes his head slightly, snapping out of it. “So the pickle bar is in East Village, I think, and it’s nothing fancy, just a good place to get a drink except they serve their shots with pickle juice and you can even order a jar of pickles to eat on the side.”
“That sounds…”
“Brilliant, right?”
Actually for my pickle-loving soul it does. “Who did you go to New York with? Family?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” he says.
“When did you guys break up?”
He rubs his fingers along his chin and stares at the ceiling. “Um, maybe a year ago. No, less than that.”
“She’s still in England.”
He gives me a simple nod. “Yes,” he says, baring his teeth slightly.
“That can’t be easy,” I say, trying to put myself in his shoes. “Long distance and all that. I mean normal relationships are hard enough, I can’t imagine how difficult they are when you’re continents apart.”
“Yes, well, lesson learned,” he says quickly, smiling up at the waitress as she drops off our drinks. He gestures to me. “Did you want to order food?”
“What did I say earlier?”
“That we’re obviously here to drink, then eat, then work.”
I glance at the waitress and she’s beaming down at us like we’re some couple on their first date. I have the urge to tell her that I have to be here in order to graduate but I’m sure she’s heard it all before.
I hold out my hand for the menu and the waitress hands it back.
“I don’t know how I got roped into going to dinner with y
ou,” I tell him, trying to keep my focus on the list of farm-to-table food.
“Because I’m utterly charming,” he explains, splaying his hands out.
“Well at least you didn’t mention your cock. That has to be a first.”
He doesn’t say anything and I have to glance over my menu at him. He’s staring at me with the intensity he had in the halls earlier, though his eyes look a bit lazier, languid, like they’re drinking me in and loving it.
I swallow uneasily, not used to this attention from him, and pick up my drink. I take a timid sip, the vinegar a shock to my tongue but it quickly blends with the raspberry and other liqueurs. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve finished half the drink and my body immediately relaxes.
“Thirsty?” Blake comments after a sip of his dark beer.
“It’s a small glass,” I say defensively.
“And I’m paying,” he says. “And driving. Go nuts.”
I push the drink away. “I’ll behave.”
He waits a beat, licking his lips, before he says, “I wish you wouldn’t.”
Oh boy. I meet his eyes and I’m held there for a moment. This whole thing was a mistake. I should have stayed mad at him. I should have insisted we work on this in the library like we have before.
“Hey,” he says softly, breaking his stare and twisting in his seat to take out his laptop. “Let’s get started.”
And somehow, just like that, he moves into work mode which makes it easier to do the same. Over the next hour we go over our notes for each other and plot and plan the next steps to finish the story with a bang.
We also order more drinks and then when my head starts getting swimmy and we’ve done all we can, we put our order in for dinner. The sun has just set over the harbor, setting the grey water ablaze with pink and yellow and casting a glow to the walls.
“Your hair is glowing,” Blake comments. “Like a bloody fireball.”
I self-consciously smooth my hair back, making sure all the strands are properly tucked into the ponytail elastic. I’m feeling a bit unraveled myself.
He takes a slow sip of water, his eyes never leaving me. “Do you ever wear it down?”