Incite

by Heather Leigh

  “Well, good to know there are still girls out there who can take your giant ego down a peg or two by not recognizing you,” he says smiling.

  “Sod off,” I joke back, grabbing my own guitar and battered notepad. “Let’s do this, I’m ready.”

  And I am ready. Ready to start new; new season, new city, new coffee shop, new songs, new solo album, maybe even a new friend. Who says you can’t start over?

  chapter 34

  Ellie

  “No way!” Gemma shrieks from her seat across the tiny table. “I can’t believe you knew that one!” She tucks a lock of her shiny brown bob behind her ear and picks up her drink.

  I laugh along with the other girls who’ve joined us for a girls’ night out at the Red Door Pub. It’s a noisy, entertaining place just around the corner from the hospital.

  “Ellie, how did you know that Simon Cowell was offered millions for a Viagra commercial?” my coworker Chelsea asks. “It’s so bloody random.”

  Shrugging, I take another sip of my beer. “I just do. I don’t know how I know it, it’s just one of those things you read and it sticks with you.” Actually, Agnes, an older coworker of ours, is obsessed with tabloids and spouts out random snippets to you whenever she gets a chance.

  “Whatever,” Gemma chuckles, “you have a scary memory then.”

  We clink our glasses together and giggle like schoolgirls. It’s been almost a year since I broke things off with James, and I’m finally feeling like a regular person. I hadn’t realized how controlling and isolating James was until I got out on my own and found that he had been the center of my entire universe. I had no life of my own to fall back on, no confidence that I could take care of myself. Now I have friends. Real friends that I can count on and ring up whenever I feel like a chat. I date, although not very much, but still, at least I’m out there trying.

  Tonight is trivia night with some of the girls from the hospital. We try to go at least once a month, sometimes more if we can. It’s difficult to manage, because Gemma is newly married and Chelsea has a two-year old at home.

  “Ladies! I’m baaaack! Now the fun can begin!” sings Paige as she plops down next to me on the dark red booth, sloshing her fruity Cosmo all over my arm.

  “Paige, you cow!” I laugh. “Strawberry whatever-that-is won’t come out of this blouse!”

  Paige is our token wild child. She’s the one you call for a great time, and she never disappoints. Tonight, she’s been chatting up every fit guy in the bar, getting free drinks sent over for the lot of us more than once. You’d never know she was a sensitive, caring pediatric nurse by the way she acts when we’re out.

  “C’mon El, cruise the pub with me! There’s loads of hot guys here tonight,” Paige whines. “I need my wing-woman!”

  “No!” I joke, gently pushing her back so she won’t spill on me again. “I want to win this. We’re in the lead.” I show her our trivia scorecard. “See, only one more round to go.”

  “Tosh! You’re such a party pooper, Ellie.” Paige scrunches up her adorable nose and pouts her lips at me. Her straight black hair sleeked back into a high ponytail and her slightly tilted dark eyes hint at her Asian heritage, but this girl is all Brit when it comes to personality.

  “After the game, I promise.” I smile and bat my eyelashes playfully.

  She brightens up immediately. “Yay!” Paige claps her hands and beams, “Ellie’s gonna chat up some guys with me!”

  “Oh lord,” says Gemma, “you realize you’ve created a monster.”

  “Me? It’s her mum and dad that’s created her. I just… feed it once in a while,” I tell my friends who immediately crack up. We’re all laughing when the quizmaster announces the beginning of round four.

  “Okay ladies, get ready,” I say seriously, pretending to crack my knuckles. “I want to win that prize.”

  “Oh come off it El, it’s a sodding six-pack of beer!” says Chelsea who is rolling her eyes at me but grinning widely, her curly blonde hair falling out of it’s clip and into her face.

  “Still, it’s the glory, not the beer that is the true prize at trivia night,” I explain to another round of eye rolls.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, final round. First question…”

  We go back and forth, debating different answers to the nine questions posed so far in the final round. By the time we get to the last question, our team is neck and neck with a group of guys a few tables over.

  “You’re not going to win, ladies!” one of the more attractive guys calls over to us.

  “Shut it hot stuff!” Paige shouts, embarrassing us all with her very loud flirting.

  “Jeez Paige, take out an ad why don’t you,” hisses Gemma. “You’re totally legless right now!”

  Chelsea and I giggle into our hands so we won’t encourage Paige’s bad behavior.

  “Alright! Final question for showbiz night at the Red Door!” the quizmaster announces. “It’s a tough one…. Okay, here it is. What secondary school in London was attended by two members of the band, Sphere of Irony?”

  Time seems to stop as all of the blood in my body rushes to my feet, leaving me suddenly dizzy, with only the whooshing sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Drinking beer all night had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now? I feel queasy and lightheaded enough to faint despite my racing pulse.

  Am I going to pass out? Cry? Scream? All of the above?

  “El? Are you alright?” Chelsea asks, probably having noticed my gaping mouth and blanched face. “You don’t look well.”

  “I-I-I need to go,” I snatch up my handbag and struggle to get out of the booth before I do anything embarrassing or worse. My friends don’t know about Adam, nor do they know where I grew up. It’s too painful to think about let alone discuss with anyone.

  “Ellie? What’s going on?” Gemma asks, grabbing my arm so I can’t leave. The worried expression on her face nearly makes me lose it right then.

  “Please,” I beg, willing my friend not to push the issue. Tears are stinging the back of my eyes, ready to unleash at any second. Gemma must understand because she releases me, no further questions asked.

  Then she changes her mind and pulls me into a hug. She whispers in my ear, “You be safe and ring me if you need to talk, okay?”

  I nod into her shoulder and flee the pub the second she lets go. Stumbling out into the crisp late autumn air, I suck in several deep breaths before I regain enough composure to walk the short distance to the tube station. Tears run silently down my cheeks and I swipe at them randomly as they fall. I’m twenty-nine years old and I’m still hung up on Adam Fucking Reynolds. I’ll never be rid of him or this feeling of emptiness, even though I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since our hotel rendezvous three years ago.

  The train glides to a stop in front of me and I shuffle in with the other weary passengers as the voice tells me to ‘mind the gap’. I drop into a seat and close my eyes, thinking about how I ended my relationship with James earlier this year, about a month after the Grammys and the talk with my mum. Ended it for myself, but also for a man I’ll never have and never see again.

  James sits next to me on our sofa, stunned by my words.

  “You’re moving out?” he asks, truly confused by the thought of me leaving.

  “Yes, I am,” I state calmly. I don’t want to start fighting or crying. He knows I don’t love him, he must. Everyone, even Agnes at work knows I don’t love him. He can’t be that clueless, he’s a fucking detective for christssake!

  “But… I thought…” James is at a complete loss for words.

  “I’m sorry, James. Here…” I pull off the diamond engagement ring he gave me and hand it to him, the one I took off so I could be with Adam and mysteriously ended up back on my finger at the hospital. “I can’t remain here like this… us. It doesn’t work.”

  “Of course it works El. We’ve been together forever,” he says, pleading his case, his large hand fisted around the ring.

  “And
we’ve never actually discussed having a wedding, James. Didn’t that clue you in that something was off?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I guess I figured we’d be the couple that stays together forever but never needs the actual wedding to prove it.” His handsome face is truly bewildered, his deep brown eyes genuinely baffled. It kind of makes me angry that he gets to sit there and pretend he didn’t see all of the signs over the years, that I’m the bad guy after he methodically cut off my relationship with every friend I had and made me completely dependent on him.

  “That’s not me, James. I want the wedding, the cake and the dance and the happily ever after…”

  “You don’t want it with me, that’s what you mean,” he finishes. I watch as his eyes go from hurt to hard in an instant. “It’s that Reynolds bastard, isn’t it? You’re leaving me for him!” he shouts accusingly.

  “No James, and what would you even know about it? I haven’t spoken to Adam in years, since the concert, actually.” I leave out the hotel incident, trying my best to keep my voice composed. No need to rub salt in the wounds, even though he used my fear of Callum Murray to keep me with him for years.

  His eyes narrow accusingly. “That prick is the reason that Callum Murray attacked you all those times, isn’t it? Murray would never confess to a reason for stalking you, wanting to harm you, and you wouldn’t say anything either. All three of you went to the same school though,” James says, piecing together what he already knew to be true but never really wanted to confront. “I’ve always had a feeling that it had something to do with that bloody pikey singer!”

  “He’s not a pikey, James! And neither am I!” I yell, hurt by his classist insult about being from Hackney. “And how dare you mention Callum Murray when he’s the only reason I’ve even been with you all these years!”

  I blanch at the look on James’ face. It goes from angry, to hurt, to downright furious.

  He slams his large fist down on the coffee table, rattling the mug of tea that’s sitting there, then points at me accusingly. “You were protecting Reynolds, by not telling me everything about Murray.” His hardened stare crumples into one of resignation as the final piece clicks into place for him. “You still love him. That’s what this is about,” he says, his voice getting softer, sounding less harsh and more resigned. “I never had a chance, did I? Even after the attack, when you were in the hospital and I sent that…” he stops abruptly and drops his gaze to his hands, folded around the diamond ring I’ve worn for almost two years.

  Tears run freely down my face, my earlier anger spent. “I never meant to hurt you James. I thought, over time… that maybe… I don’t know.” Useless sobs are wrenched from my throat.

  “You thought you’d eventually love me enough, right?”

  God, for someone living in complete ignorance for the last four plus years, and using every advantage he had to manipulate me, he sure figured everything out right quick at the end. Or maybe he knew all along and was ignoring the truth, just like I was.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper between cries. “Really truly sorry, James.”

  “Me too,” he says and we hug, undoubtedly for the last time.

  “Finsbury Park. Next stop Seven Sisters.”

  The doors to the train open at my stop and I slowly walk home, my earlier buzz from the beers and the girls’ night out now completely gone. Between thinking about Adam and recalling how I broke James’ heart, all I want to do is crash on my bed.

  After I moved out of James’ flat, I’ve been living on my own back in Islington, near the stadium and my old place ever since.

  I make the three-story climb to my flat and lock the door securely. Unable to find the energy to change my clothes or brush my teeth, I flop down on my bed and grind the heels of my hand into my sore eyes.

  Against my will, my heart takes me back to that amazing day with Adam in his hotel room. The day before Callum Murray attacked me and broke my phone, cutting off my only way of being with Adam.

  “Sweetheart, come back to bed!” Adam calls out from the bedroom.

  I giggle and surprise myself. I don’t giggle. At least I haven’t in a very long time. “Coming! I’m just getting the champagne!” I shout back from the kitchen area of his suite. Adam said he doesn’t drink much anymore, but I figured licking champagne off of his delectable body wouldn’t count since I’d be the one drinking it. I grab the ice bucket, fill it from the in-room icemaker, and throw in the bottle that’s in the wine cooler.

  I hear his deep, rumbling laugh and run full speed into the bedroom leaping on the bed, ice flying out of the bucket and all over the covers and Adam’s naked chest.

  “Bloody hell! What are you doing?” He gasps, jerking away when the freezing ice cubes land on his hot skin. I fall over on my side, laughing so hard I can hardly catch my breath.

  “Oh,” he says seductively as he tosses each piece of ice back into the bucket with a loud clang. “That’s how it is, is it?”

  I squeal when Adam pounces on me and straddles my thighs, pinning me down to the bed. When I struggle and laugh, he grabs my hands and holds them over my head, shifting them both to one of his. I watch, as he slowly reaches back and grabs the ice bucket without breaking eye contact, and start wriggling under him when the sound of shifting ice lets me know what he’s doing.

  “No! No, no, no!” I shriek. Adam smirks and removes a piece of ice, taunting me with it, holding it just above the skin of my neck. “Ahhhh!” I yelp when frigid water drips off of the cube and onto my bare flesh. “Holy hell that’s cold! Stop, Adam!”

  The water is freezing, but I can’t stop laughing either. Playful moments like this are so infrequent in my life, I wish I could stop time and memorize every precious second.

  Adam grins and lowers the ice cube before dragging it slowly from my ear to my collarbone. I squeal out a protest but he immediately follows the ice with his hot mouth, sucking and licking behind the frosty trail. The squeal turns into a moan that curls up from my throat and my hips buck involuntarily.

  He drops the ice back into the bucket and lets go of my arms. Reaching down, Adam rips off the T-shirt that I borrowed from him and tosses it over his shoulder. Now left wearing only my tiny lace knickers, he reclaims my hands, threading his fingers in mine, and leans over, kissing me deeply. Our mouths move together, his tongue thrusting and tasting and claiming every bit of me until I’m moaning for more.

  Once again, Adam transfers my hands into one of his, his large fingers easily circling both of my wrists. He retreats from the kiss, leaving me panting and feeling cheated. I see him reach back into the ice bucket once more, and his eyes drop into a lust-filled stare.

  “Adam…” I warn. “Don’t you dare.”

  He gives me a sexy, lopsided grin and brushes his lips against mine. While we’re kissing, I feel the frozen cube circle one of my nipples, pulling it instantly into a tight peak and sending a ripple of pleasure down my spine.

  I hiss at the contact, then writhe as Adam copies his earlier action, bending lower to capture the hard nub in his hot mouth, soothing the cold sensation. He repeats it on each breast several times, then drags the ice down my chest and to the center of my belly.

  “That’s too cold!” I yelp, my abdominal muscles clenching from the chill. When he dips his head again, his tongue tracing the icy path, his dark hair brushing against my breasts, I melt along with the ice cube. The groan Adam makes when his mouth reaches the frilly edge of lace undoes the rest of the fight I had left in me.

  He feels my tense body surrender and lets go of my hands. I immediately tangle them in his soft, messy hair, holding on tight. “Fuck you’re sexy,” he rasps, tossing the ice on the floor and taking the scrap of fabric in his teeth, slowly lowering my panties to my knees. Adam shoves them the rest of the way off with his hands and grips my hips firmly, the hard callouses on his fingers pushing into my skin.

  I nearly buck off of the bed when Adam lightly flicks his tongue across the sensitive nub. “Holy….” I
moan, unable to say anything coherent as that clever tongue swiftly works me into a panting, writhing mess. I have to beg him to release me or else I’ll pass out from the pleasure. “Stop, no more… please. God, Adam!”

  Adam leans back on his heels, giving me a scorching hot look as he grabs a condom off the nightstand and quickly rolls it on. I nearly come just from the wicked glint in his eyes that hold a hint of what’s to come. “God I’ve missed you,” he sighs as he climbs on top of me and slowly, excruciatingly, enters me until he’s buried deep inside. “Jesus, El…” He chokes on his words, lowering his body onto mine, propped up only by strong arms as he rests his head in the crook of my shoulder. Adam’s quick breaths brush over my neck, sending chills straight to where we’re connected.

  “Adam, please… move. I can’t… I-I need more.” I shift my hips to encourage him to give me what I so desperately crave.

  He takes a deep breath, and I hear it hitch in his chest, the honesty exposed by that simple sound stabs straight into my heart. It says I love you, without using words. When he finally lifts his head and starts gently rocking against me, I see tears shimmering in his beautiful hazel eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I murmur, reaching up to touch his flushed face. He nudges his cheek into my palm and nearly sobs at the contact. The day old stubble feels amazing against my skin, and his sweet, almost childlike response touches my soul.

  “I just…” He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I just love you so much.” A single tear escapes only to disappear under my hand. Emotions, so many, so strong my heart feels as if it might burst, race through me fast enough to nearly make me collapse.

  “Come here.” I pull on the back of his neck to bring his beautiful face closer. Adam complies, resting on his forearms until our mouths almost touch. “Make love to me, Adam.” His breath hitches again and he skims his soft lips across mine.

  Adam picks up the pace, starting slow, quickly driving us both closer and closer to that desperate release we crave. Our mouths get hungrier, tasting and biting each other’s lips and necks and shoulders as the pleasure builds. Beads of sweat form on his temple and I watch, riveted, as one trickles down and drips off of his skin and onto mine.