HEADMASTER

by Jaimie Roberts

  Trying to ignore the excitable flurries in my stomach, I lean forward to whisper, “Don’t look, but you know the guy standing behind the bar?”

  He quirks his mouth. “You mean the barman?”

  I almost roll my eyes at my own stupidity. “Yes, the barman.” He goes to look, so I whisper-hiss, “Don’t look, or else he’ll know I’m talking about him.”

  He lightly chuckles. Jesus, even that’s sexy. “Okay, what about him?”

  My shoulders sag as I breathe out. I must be mad. “It’s my birthday—”

  “Happy birthday,” he interrupts.

  “Thanks,” I say quickly. “Brett—”

  “The barman?”

  I sigh. “Yes. Brett the barman.” My God, this is like pulling teeth. I see when he smirks at my Brett the Barman comment. My slight irritation soon melts away with that smirk. My eyes lock on his, and for a moment, I’ve lost my words. He has the most beautiful deep-set brown eyes I have ever had the pleasure of looking into. They’re like these two light brown diamond orbs with speckles of green. Mesmerising.

  “You were saying,” he says, snapping me out of it. I can tell it’s obvious to him that he’s having a significant effect on me.

  I really need to get a grip!

  So, I do just that, shaking my head as I clear my throat. “Yes, I was saying. Brett wanted to do a birthday bet, and the bet is that I can’t make you kiss me within fifteen minutes of conversation. If I win and you do, he’ll give me twenty quid—thus allowing me free Chinese food for my birthday.”

  He looks at me for a moment, but doesn’t say anything. Instantly, a pang of regret forms in my stomach. I shouldn’t have done this. Approaching strangers is the last thing I should be doing, and asking him to kiss me within a few minutes of talking is just plain nuts. I shouldn’t be so careless—especially after Liam—but for some reason, this stranger makes me feel instantly at ease. I know it sounds nuts, but it’s the way I feel. I mean, what are the chances of me meeting two Liams in my lifetime?

  Even so, I’m about to tell him to forget the whole thing when he looks down at his watch. “You only have twelve minutes, so you better make it good.”

  Not understanding what he means, I frown. “Make what good?”

  Leaning his elbow on the table, he clasps his fingers together. “Your wee speech that will make me want to kiss you in,” he pauses to look at his watch again, “eleven minutes.”

  Instant irritation rushes to my cheeks. He may be sexy, but he’s too damn arrogant about it. “You know what? Forget it. I may be a lot of things, but undignified isn’t one of them.” I push his drink towards him. “Here’s a free drink, courtesy of Brett the Barman.”

  I’m about to move away when he suddenly clasps his hands to my cheeks and pulls me towards him. Without a thought, he presses his full lips to mine, sweeping his tongue out against my lips to coax my mouth open. I can taste the whiskey on his breath, but instead of feeling disgusted by it, it only heightens my desire for him. I have been kissed before, but it’s been forced and left me feeling degraded and empty inside. This man is kissing me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, and I don’t even have a clue as to what his name is. The kiss is needy, but it’s also sensuous, slow, and passionate. The feel of his tongue dancing with mine makes my head spin and my legs shake.

  He slows a moment, so I think he’s about to stop, but when I try to break away, he pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and squeezing me to him. I let out a breathy moan, and he reacts by taking my mouth in the most passionate, spell-binding kiss I’ve ever experienced. For a few moments, I’m completely lost—completely swept up by this man whom I have only just met five or six minutes ago. The feel of his chest against mine sends my pulse racing. His hands are big and strong, and his mouth reminds me of the taste of my favourite chocolate. Warm, inviting, moist, and soft. I could kiss him for hours.

  But just as I’m really getting into it, he suddenly breaks away and leans his forehead against mine. His breathing is so heavy that I can see my blonde tendrils moving in time with each breath he takes, and I feel as they lightly brush across my face in the process. I watch as he swallows hard before saying, “You didn’t need to convince me, fuck all. I wanted to kiss you from the moment you walked up to me and opened that cute, feisty mouth of yours.” I bite my lip and try to suppress my smile. “You win, sweetheart.”

  I think my heart just skipped a beat. I’m so screwed.

  Trying to compose myself, I clear my throat. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”

  And then it hits me. I hope he doesn’t think I do this all the time. “Erm,” I say, scratching my head, “just so you know, I don’t make a habit of doing this.”

  He smirks. “I can see that.”

  Suddenly, I feel offended. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Still smirking, he starts shaking his head. “Oh, no, lassie. Don’t start that insecure bullshit with me. There really is no need for it. I didn’t mean it as you evidently think I did. I just meant that I can already tell that you don’t normally approach men in pubs. You may be new at this, but that kiss?” he breathily whispers, shaking his head. “Let’s just say your lips seem like they were made for kissing.” I smirk at that and he notices. “What?”

  “To me, it seems like you’ve done this hundreds of times.”

  With a cheeky grin, he leans forward. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t mean it in a nasty way.”

  “Compliment it is then,” he says, leaning back. “I’ve certainly never done this before.” He gives me a look, and when he spots my smirk, he asks, “Can I know your name? Since we’ve kissed, I feel I deserve at least that much.”

  I could seriously listen to his voice for hours!

  “It’s Sasha.”

  Holding out his hand, he smiles. “Nice to meet you, Sasha. The name’s Easton.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  He half-laughs like he’s heard that a thousand times. “That’s my family all over.”

  “Got a lot of them? Family, I mean.”

  “I’m one of six. I have four brothers and one sister. She lives in America with her husband, so I don’t get to see her that often. All my brothers are up in Scotland.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  Glancing sideways at me, he smirks. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  I shrug, looking away for a moment. “I’m just a curious person I guess.”

  “That’s good. Curiosity is always a good thing.”

  I smile. “I thought it killed the cat.”

  He chuckles at that. “It does in some cases. But mostly, it’s good to be curious. How else can one learn new things?”

  “I guess.”

  “Edinburgh,” he blurts.

  “What?”

  He laughs again, sending my pulse rocketing. This man is something else.

  “Where I’m from and where most of my family lives now.”

  “So, what brings you here?”

  “A new job. But that’s enough about me. All I know about you is your name.” With a firm grip, he picks up his drink and takes a gulp. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as the drink slides down. I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to stick out my tongue and lick that Adam’s apple.

  Knowing I have to say something, I simply shrug. “There’s not much to tell really.” And I really don’t want to tell what there is. I was abducted at the age of fifteen and haven’t been back from that ordeal for very long. It’s a big part of my life that I don’t wish to get into—especially with a man I met just ten minutes ago.

  Placing his drink back down, he eyes me peculiarly. “Well, I know it’s your birthday today, and I assume by what you’re drinking that you’re of legal age. I’m guessing around twenty, twenty-two at a push.”

  I guess with what I’ve been through, I do look older. It’s hard
ly surprising really. But then again, I don’t know this guy, and I’ll probably never see him again. “You’re in the ballpark,” I answer, deciding to leave it at that.

  Shaking his head, he smirks. “You’re not giving anything away, are you?”

  I shake my head, confirming. “You’ll just have to go home tonight guessing.”

  Leaning forward, his eyes wander down from my eyes towards my lips before meeting my eyes again. I think my knickers have caught fire.

  “I have no doubt you’ll be in my dreams tonight, lass.” My breath hitches, and when I don’t respond, he says, “I want to kiss you again.”

  Mushy brain. All my body can scream through it is, “Yes!” I must have said it out loud because the moment I think the word, Easton leans forward. I feel the moment that his lips press against mine.

  Warm.

  Wet.

  Inviting.

  Intoxicating.

  I’m completely lost within these lips of his. When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathless. Easton closes his eyes as he leans his forehead against mine. “I want to taste more of you, but there’s no way I’m keeping you away from your mum. If it wasn’t for that, I would take you back to my place where I’d make sure the only word capable of leaving your lips is my name.”

  Wow.

  “Very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” He may be the sexiest man alive, but he’s also the cockiest.

  “Tell me you wouldn’t have wanted that. Tell me you don’t want it now.”

  “Wanting something and acting upon it are two different things. I may want to go with you, but I won’t.”

  “Because you’re having Chinese with your mum?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not just that. I don’t even know you.”

  “You seem to know a damn sight more about me than I do about you, lass.”

  I nod my head on a laugh. “I suppose that’s true.” I know I need to leave, but this is the first time in a long time that I have felt really good. I don’t want to lose this feeling. “I’d better go,” I say despite my own wishes to the contrary.

  “Back to your mum for Chinese?”

  I capture his eyes and smile. “Yes. Back to my mum’s for Chinese.”

  “Can I at least get your number before you go?” I bite my lip, and he notices. “Forget it. You’re obviously uncomfortable with that.” He doesn’t say it in a nasty way, though. He simply sounds matter-of-fact about it.

  Before my brain engages, I run off my mobile number. As I’m saying it, Easton gets out his phone and starts typing it in. I wait until he’s finished, and when he is, I hear my phone ping.

  “I’ve sent you a wee message.” He winks after that, making my heart flutter.

  “Okay. I’ll be sure to read it once I leave for my Chinese.”

  He nods. “Make sure you do.”

  Finally gaining the courage to get up, I say, “Enjoy your book. The dog dies in the end.” With that said, I leave Easton and walk back to the bar where Brett’s eagerly waiting with a holy fuck look on his face.

  When I sit down, he slaps a twenty on the table. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” I watch him shake his head before turning to look back at Easton. He’s smirking, and then he too starts shaking his head. He looks down, types something, and I again hear my phone ping. I don’t get it out of my pocket, though. I’m dying to know what it says, but I don’t want to look too keen.

  Eventually, I tear myself away from Easton’s stare and look back at Brett. “Thanks for the money,” I say, picking it up and putting it in my pocket. “I’m sure my mum will be thankful too once I bring her some food.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  “Will do,” I answer, swigging the rest of my drink down. “See you around, Brett the Barman.” I slide off my chair and start walking.

  “Brett the what?” he asks.

  Chuckling, I wave my hand behind me. I don’t want to look around because if I do, the temptation to look at that man who I can only describe as divinity incarnate would be all too consuming. “See you tomorrow, babes.”

  “I’ll text you in the morning, hon.”

  Chinese Food

  I order up the Chinese food and wait patiently for it to be cooked. As I do, the temptation to read those two text messages becomes too much. I pull out my phone and read what he had to say:

  Humid seal of soft affections,

  Tend ‘rest pledge of future bliss,

  Dearest tie of young connections,

  Love’s first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

  Whoa … what the?!

  My mind is awash with confusion. I have no idea how to feel about this. On the one hand, it seems forward, maybe even presumptuous. On the other hand, I can’t help the fire dancing in my belly from the mere thought of that kiss.

  Needing to know more, I copy and paste the poem into Google. I start laughing as the results come up. Of course. The man who wrote it was Robert Burns, a Scottish poet. And the poem itself is called “To a Kiss.” It’s hardly surprising that he’s chosen the poem of a fellow Scot, but what really intrigues me is the indication that more lies beneath the surface than I would have thought based upon our initial encounter. He has this bad boy biker thing going on, but he’s also intelligent, considering his choice to spend his recreational bar time reading a book while keeping his laptop at hand. Add his knowledge of poetry to the mix, and I’d definitely wager that he’s a well-educated man.

  I’m still smiling from his last text when I remember he followed with another after. I click on it immediately and read what else he has to say. I’m thinking it may be another verse of a poem, so I’m surprised by what I find instead.

  That was unfair. If we weren’t in a packed pub, I’d skelp your bahookie! ;)

  I laugh out loud at his choice of words. I have no idea what they mean, but they sound funny. Again, I have to use Google to help me understand. Apparently, a skelp on the bahookie is Scottish slang for a smack on the bottom.

  He really is a cocky bastard.

  I suppose he thinks it’s okay to say such bold words since he put a cute wink emoticon at the end of them. I’m tempted to text back, but at the same time, I wonder what is to be gained by it? I know it’s much too soon to enter into any relationship—no matter the capacity. I never thought I could simply meet someone and have such a strong initial reaction to him.

  I sit there for another couple of minutes, allowing my thumb to hover over the reply button. Should I reply or not? Just as I’m debating this, I hear a voice shout, “Number thirty-two!”

  Realising it’s my number, I snap my head up and make my way to the counter, stuffing my phone into my bag as I walk. I guess texting back will have to wait for now.

  A guy with a Mohican hair style smiles at me from behind the counter as I approach. He places a bag down on the counter, and the smell immediately hits me, causing my stomach to growl in impatient anticipation.

  “That’ll be thirteen-thirty, please, love.”

  I hand him over the twenty, pleased that I will be getting over six pounds back. With that, maybe I can buy myself a drink after school tomorrow. I have a feeling I’ll need it once I’m done.

  Once I get the change, I thank Mohican guy and make my ten-minute journey home. It’s only a little after eight, but it’s already relatively quiet considering it’s a Sunday night. The people I do see are going about their evenings with their heads down, texting or scrolling through their phones. I, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury. With Liam after me, I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. I worry that every footstep, laugh, voice, and unidentified noise I hear on the street will turn out to be him. I hate living in fear of what tomorrow will bring, but at the same time, I can never let my guard down.

  When I reach the door to my house, I haven’t even got the key in when my mum answers, screeching, “Happy birthday” and raising a bottle of champagne up in a celebratory salute.

  “Ooh, you’ve got the Chinese! Lovely. I don’
t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Guilt instantly courses through me. “Sorry I didn’t get back sooner.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she replies, taking the bag from me and walking in. “It’s your birthday—the one day you get to decide on whatever it is you want to do.” I follow her into the living room where she sets the bag down on the table. She sighs, looking a little sad. “I just wish I could have done something special for you. Taken you away somewhere nice. Is it still your dream to go to Tuscany?”

  “Number one, this is special. Number two, we both know there is no way we could have been away for my birthday with school starting tomorrow. And, number three, I would still love to go to Tuscany, but I have a new favourite now.”

  As my mum unties the wrapping from the champagne, she looks up at me with a curious smile. “Oh, yeah? Where would that be? America? Australia? Paris, maybe?” she asks with a giggle.

  “Edinburgh.”

  “Edinburgh?” my mum asks just as the cork pops, hitting the lampshade and dropping to the floor. Instantly, champagne comes pouring out of the newly opened bottle. Quick in her movements, my mum grabs a glass and manages to salvage potential spillage. “Nice save,” I say to her.

  “Waste not, want not,” she says with a smirk. She pours some into another glass and hands it to me. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here with me for it.”

  I know what she means without needing to hear the words. “I am too. And thank you for this.”

  She looks down at the table. “As I said, I only wish it were more.” I’m about to complain that what she’s done is enough when she says, “Come. Sit, eat, and tell me all about your interest in Edinburgh.”

  I sit down, and my mum retrieves all the boxes of food from the bag. “There’s not much to say. I just spoke to someone at the pub tonight. He’s here starting a new job, but he’s originally from Edinburgh.” Thinking about it now, I realise I forgot to ask him what line of work he’s in.