Betting On Love

by Danielle Dickson

  I sigh, he isn’t going to give this up. “If I must, but you’re buying.”

  He chuckles and gives me a small salute. “I’ll meet you downstairs, it seems a sexy blond busted my nose so I have to go and change my shirt.”

  “Well I guess we’re even now.” I wave him off, hearing him shut the door behind him. Even with blood all over his face he’s gorgeous, how is that fair?

  I take out a sandwich bag and seal the sandwich inside for tomorrow, throwing it in my fridge as I walk past it to get to my room.

  Pulling out my favourite pair of jeans—the ones that make my bum look great—and a checked, oversized shirt, I dress and pull on my Converse before walking over to my floor-length mirror.

  I plait my fringe and apply a little bit of mascara to my bare lashes and grab my bag, making sure my purse is inside. I’m not really going to make him pay for anything, it’d be too much like a date then and that is not what I’m looking for.

  I lock up and take the lift down, stepping out when it reaches the ground level. He’s not down here yet so I wait by the front door, leaning against the wall. The lift pings two minutes later and he steps out in a white Henley-style, long-sleeved top, dark denim jeans, and Converse. Why does he have to look so fit? It isn’t helping with my whole “ignore the male population” plan.

  He walks over to me and opens the door, waving me through it. “After you.”

  I give him a quick smile and walk through the door.

  Fuck... I’m in trouble.

  You forgot to say she looks good, asshole! Not just good… incredible. She’s not even dressed up, she’s just casual in jeans that hug her ass like they were made for it and a button-down checked shirt with Converse and no makeup, but somehow, she looks better than anyone I’ve ever taken on a date before. So, tell her!

  “You err, you look good.” You look good? That’s the best you could do? “I hope you don’t mind walking, it’s only two blocks up,” I say.

  She raises a brow but ignores my first comment. “Lead the way, I’m Hank Marvin.”

  I scoff. “Excuse me?”

  “Hank Marvin? Starving?” she replies as if I’m a dumbass.

  “Is that more Brit slang? ’Cause if it is, you’re gonna have to coach me, I’ve never been.”

  Her eyes widen. “You’ve never been to England?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, a lot of people have never been across the pond,” I say.

  She looks around her in thought and mumbles something to herself that I can’t quite hear, so I ignore it and concentrate on trying to work out how old she is. I can’t quite place her; something I’m normally good at.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asks without hesitation.

  “Just trying to work out how old you are,” I answer honestly.

  She laughs. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “’Cause I was taught to never ask a woman her age,” I retort sarcastically.

  She rolls her eyes. “How old am I then? What’s your guess?”

  I turn and start walking backward as I study her face. “Well you look youthful, but your eyes say you have a story to tell. You’re a teacher, sports related I’m thinking…” I wait for her to acknowledge me and when she nods slowly, I continue, “So you must be older than twenty-two with all the studying, then I’m thinking that no private school in America would hire you without at least some experience, so I’m putting at least two years more onto that. Then—”

  “Twenty-six, I’m twenty-six,” she says impatiently.

  I turn back around to walk beside her. “Way to ruin my fun, I was getting to the nitty gritty bit.” She gives me a quizzical look and I start to hum to myself before I announce that the restaurant is just in front of us.

  I open the door for her again and she gives me the same curious look she did back when I opened the apartment building door for her, almost as if she thought I was incapable of being polite. She may think I’m a pig, but I’m a gentleman if nothing else.

  We’re seated and a waitress comes over to take our drinks order, I wave Billie to go ahead.

  “A beer, please. Any will do.”

  I nod in appreciation. “Same for me, please.”

  “Sure, I’ll be back to take your order in five,” the waitress says, winking at me.

  My eyes move to Billie in embarrassment but she doesn’t seem to notice the waitress’s thoughtless behavior as she has her head stuck in the menu.

  Her blond hair hangs partially over her face but I can still see her full, rosy lips and long eyelashes. She looks up and catches me staring but I’m not ashamed, I don’t look away, I carry on looking into her caramel-colored eyes. “Didn’t peg you for a beer girl.”

  “Really? What ‘kinda girl’ do I look like?” she sneers.

  I shrug and cross my arms on the table in front of me. “I would’ve gone for wine or one of those fruity, girly drinks.”

  She gifts me with a genuine laugh and it has me smiling. What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your head in the game! Fuck her, and get her out of your system!

  I clear my throat and lean back as our beers are brought over and just like that, my mind is on how I really want this night to end.

  The waitress takes our food order and my cell rings out, making Billie look at me with a questioning brow.

  “You not going to answer that?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Nah, it won’t be important.” It’ll be someone asking me to go out, there’s no doubt about that, but I won’t tell her that.

  I ignore it when it rings again and clear my throat. “So, how long have you lived here for?”

  I watch as she wets her lips with her tongue. “Five weeks, not long.”

  “And you’ve never lived in America before?”

  “I’ve never been outside of England for longer than two weeks before,” she replies.

  Fascinating. Why would someone who hasn’t traveled or had experience living in a different country move thousands of miles away from everything they’ve ever known? Just as I’m about to ask her, our food comes and my stomach growls.

  Conversation is stilted during dinner, it seems like she wants to finish just so she can leave. That’s fine by me, the sooner I have her back at my place the better.

  They bring us over our fortune cookies and a shot of liquor that smells like the paint stripper we use at work. No thanks to that one. I tap my fingers against the table and hum a tune as Billie shoots it in one and does mine too.

  “Hardcore,” I say, reaching over and reading my fortune.

  She gives me a sarcastic smile and pushes her chair back. “Just going to the loo before we go.” I’m guessing that means the bathroom so I watch as she stands and I can’t help myself, I reach over and pinch her ass. “Ow! What do you think you’re doing?”

  I shrug innocently. “I’m just doing what the fortune cookie said. Who am I to stand in the way of fate?”

  She throws her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at me. “The fortune cookie told you to fondle me?”

  A deep laughter booms from my chest. “No, it said to stop second guessing my thoughts and act on them, in a roundabout way of course.”

  She rolls her eyes, a move I’m getting used to her doing. “I’m pretty sure it didn’t mean for you to manhandle whoever you’re with.”

  I shrug again. “That’s all down to interpretation I guess.”

  I take a drink of my beer and she starts to mumble to herself like earlier. This time I decide to call her on it. “What is that?”

  “Huh?” she replies.

  I point at her. “That mumbling you keep doing, it’s really off putting. It makes me think you’re talking to yourself about me.”

  She scoffs. “Off putting? Not five minutes ago, you just tapped out and hummed the beat of Thong Song! Don’t call me off putting.”

  I chuckle. “You caught that, huh? I like music, so sue me.”

  “I really am going to the ladies’ room now
. Don’t get the bill without me,” she warns.

  She disappears out of sight so I call the waitress over and pay for our dinner, leaving a good tip.

  Billie comes out of the bathroom and walks over to where I’m now standing by the door, her face screwed up in a scowl. “I told you not to get the bill, I wanted to pay my half.”

  I wave her off and open the door for her. “If I ask you out to dinner, I’m paying. Don’t even try to fight me on that.”

  “Fine,” she huffs. “But don’t go thinking the night goes any further than this just because you bought me dinner. As soon as we’re back, I’m going up to my apartment... alone.”

  I can’t say I’m not disappointed by this latest development, but tomorrow’s another day.

  It’s tomorrow and I’m ready to work my magic on Billie. I slipped a note under her apartment door before I left for work, telling her to meet me in the parking lot at lunch time. I felt like a teenager doing it but I have a feeling I need to take a softer approach with her because me being full on isn’t working, not like it normally does. She’s standoffish and I want her to loosen up with me.

  I lean against my BMW and look around the lot, hoping she’ll show so I don’t have to go looking for her inside of the school. Dean Harmon has been civil with me so far, but I don’t want to push my luck by walking through the hallways trying to hunt down one of his teachers. The front doors open and my lip quirks up as she bounces down the steps and looks around, presumably looking for me.

  I wave to catch her attention and as soon as she sees me, she narrows her eyes and then storms toward me with purpose.

  “I went out for something to eat with you last night because I felt bad for making you bleed, it wasn’t an invite for you to keep pestering me.”

  The whole time she’s talking, all I can think about is wanting to kiss that smart mouth of hers to stop her talking, but I don’t, I smile at her instead. “A note is hardly ‘pestering you,’” I reply, using quotation marks with my fingers.

  She starts counting on her fingers. “It’s not just this, Mac, there’s this, then there’s you bribing our landlord for my apartment number, then breaking into it after I told you I wasn’t going out on a date with you.”

  “I didn’t break—”

  “I moved here to get away from douche canoes like you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a nice guy when you drop your ego, but I’m trying to stay away from the male population and you’re not helping with your... face and...” She waves her arms at me. “Muscles and shit.”

  I snort out a laugh and step closer to her, running my fingers down the skin of her arm, but she draws my attention back toward the school when her head spins that way before I can take it any further.

  “Everything okay over there?” It’s Dean Harmon, the dean of the school, and he’s glaring at me.

  Billie clears her throat and smiles at him. “Absolutely, I was a klutz and this nice man here caught me before my face met the gravel.”

  I pretend to straighten her up and step away, waving to him as he looks between us both and nods, getting into his car and pulling away. I stare after him and she clears her throat again. “What was that look for?”

  “What look?”

  “You just stared each other down like you were about to start a brawl right here in the car park.”

  I shrug. “Dunno what you mean, I think he just thought I was bothering you or something.”

  “You are,” she deadpans. “But that was too close for comfort, I can’t jeopardise my job. I came to America to clear my head of all complications. Your games aren’t what I need right now, so if you could just not keep trying to get me to go out with you, that’d be great.”

  I chuckle and she glares at me. “It was just an invitation to come for lunch, Billie, not a proposal. Just come with me, I promise I’ll be a gentleman. There’s a great pizza place two blocks away.” I watch the blush creep up her cheeks and motion to my car. She looks back at the school, worrying her lip before climbing into the passenger’s side with a sigh.

  I’ll behave myself for now because for the first time in my life, I find myself wanting to get to know a woman properly instead of just getting her into my bed.

  My hands start sweating at the realization and I pretend my cell rings so I can have a minute to myself, motioning to her that I’ll just be a second. She nods and I press my back against the driver’s side and pull in deep breaths. No one has ever affected me this much before, whatever this feeling is, I’m not too sure I like it.

  I open my car door and slide into the seat, giving her a wide smile before buckling up and driving toward the restaurant that makes the best pizza, trying not to think about my momentary wobble that came from the simple thought that I, Mac, may actually like someone for something other than keeping my bed warm.

  I think I nearly had a foodgasm! I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pizza that good before… ever. You wouldn’t have believed it by looking at the place; restaurant isn’t even the right word, it’s more like a hole in the wall, one of those gems that you find randomly and thank your lucky stars that you found it. The company wasn’t all that bad either. Mac stuck to his word and was a perfect gentleman and even had me back at school in time for my next class.

  It’s like he has a split personality. A persona he thinks everyone wants to see and be around, the cocky, ego-filled, cheeky guy that is the life of the party, then the persona that I believe is the real him. He’s still cheeky and cocky, but it’s not in a conceited way, it’s in that sexy self-assured way that makes him come across as confident instead of arrogant. I like that Mac, as a friend of course—my first one since moving to the state’s five weeks ago, how sad.

  I lean back into the comfy, grey and blush pink cushions of my sofa and pull out my iPad from under the coffee table to FaceTime my mum, something I’m not looking forward to, it’s always a bloody disaster.

  I call her but she doesn’t pick up on the first ring, so I try again. A rustling sounds over my end and a flesh-toned picture greets me. I sigh. “Hi, Mum.”

  “Billie! I was wondering when you were going to call,” she says back.

  “Mum, it’s FaceTime, you don’t have to put the phone to your ear. Pull it away.” The flesh-toned picture on the screen diminishes and I get a full view of her ear and hair instead.

  I chuckle. “Now move it out in front of your face so I can see you. We’ve done this about ten times since I moved, how can you not remember how to use it?”

  “Because it hates me. I can’t see why we can’t just use good old fashioned phone calls,” she huffs out as I get a full view up her nose.

  “As much as I love seeing your nose, can you move the phone out so I can see you properly? You’ll be able to see me then too.” At this point I’m trying not to belly laugh as she pulls the phone away and her eyes widen. You’d think she’d be able to use something as simple as FaceTime.

  “Oh, Billie! My beautiful girl. There you are. Hi, darling!” she practically shouts.

  “You don’t have to shout, I can hear you just fine when you talk normally. How’s everything there?”

  “Can you hear me?” she says in a normal volume and I nod. “Fine, fine. We’re all fine, nothing to report here. Your dad’s just got back from a work function and is a little drunk.”

  “Is that Bilbo?” I hear him slur in the background before his face fills the screen with a lazy grin plastered on his lips. “There she is.”

  “Hi, Dad. Did you have a good night?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “I did, but I’m tired.” He yawns. “Trying to keep up with you young’uns isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

  “Well you’re no spring chicken anymore,” I tease him.

  He blows a raspberry and sticks two fingers up at me. “You’re only as old as you feel.”

  “Alright, Ed, bedtime for you,” Mum interrupts him.

  “I’m getting sent to bed, Bil, the cheek! I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, l
ove.”

  “Alright, Dad, I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Love you.”

  “Love you, Bilbo.”

  “Billie? Are you still there?”

  “I’m still here, Mum. Turn the phone around,” I sigh out, realising I’ve been on FaceTime with her for twenty minutes now but nothing has actually been talked about.

  “Ah, there you are! How are you? How’s the job going? Have you made any friends yet?”

  “Job is all go at the moment, it’s keeping me busy which is good. I’m great, and no I’m not looking to make any friends just yet. I want to settle in first.”

  “What am I then?” a deep voice says from behind me, making me jump.

  “Mac! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Who’s that? Is that a new friend?” Mum asks curiously, the teasing in her voice blatant.

  “Two minutes, Mum.” I turn around to face Mac who has a smug grin plastered on his face. “What do you want? You can see that I’m busy.”

  “I just came to see if you’d lifted the whole ‘male population’ ban yet? I’m bored and want to do something with you,” he replies, not a care in the world how that would’ve sounded to my mum who is currently on the other end of my iPad thinking she’s pressed something because I’m not talking to her anymore.

  “This bloody phone! What was wrong with actual buttons on mobiles? Ed? I think I’ve broken or pressed something again.”

  “Mum, I’m still here, you haven’t done anything. I’m just talking to someone, give me two minutes.” I face Mac again. “Not tonight, I meant what I said.”

  He points toward a plate on my kitchen bench. “I err… I brought you a little something anyway. Another time?”

  “Maybe,” I reply as he walks out of my front door making me wonder why he didn’t insist I went out with him this time.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry, I was just… never mind.” I pick the iPad back up and smile back at her.

  “Friend of yours?” she asks, an eyebrow cocked in question.