by Amy Daws
“Day Five: Make out…with a bloke.” I sigh and roll my eyes. I figured this much. Frank continues before I attempt to speak again.
“Day Six: Display Night,” he pauses, refusing to meet my eyes.
Display night? What on earth could that be?
“Like a Go-Go dancer in Las Vegas…front and center, at a nightclub, for all to see. No stripping, you perv! Just dancing in the designated go-go costume of the establishment. Though stripping would count for extra credit if you felt so inclined.”
I feel my face go pale. “Are you fucking fucking with me?”
“Day Seven!” Frank shouts, blatantly refusing to make eye contact with me. “One-night stand. There, that’s it. That’s the last step! This is my magical seven-day cleanse to happiness. It’s extreme and it really ramps up there at the last bit, but it’s all life-experiences, you see. Things that people remember ‘til the end of time. There’s a method to my madness, I’ve put years of thought into this treatment plan. You shouldn’t have agreed to it if you thought it was going to be easy! I never promised it’d be easy. I only promised it would snap you out of your droopy state. I never, ever…”
“FRANK!” I shout, snapping him out of his monologue. “Stop being a pussy. I’ll do it!”
Frank looks up in shock and awe. “You will?” I’ve obviously impressed him.
I shrug my shoulders. “The most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves, right?”
“Right!” Frank agrees eagerly, obviously excited by how easy this was.
The one-night-stand part sounds awful. But it’s seven whole days away, so I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
“I gotta do something,” I murmur, feeling melancholy over how I’ve been behaving these past few years in London. I’m twenty-six years old. I need to get over this shit. Specifically, I need to stop thinking about Theo and everything he said to me in my bedroom. It was four months ago—why am I still obsessing over it?
***
CHAPTER SEVEN
4 Months Earlier
FAMILY FLICK NIGHT:
It’s been two weeks since our Tarts and Vicars party and life is great. Finley is cheering up a bit over her recent breakup, and Frank and Finley are actually becoming good friends. Even Mitch and Julie want to hang out with us!
I zip-up my long one-piece cheetah-print pajama getup that Frank and I ordered online after sharing a bottle of vodka and no true tonic to speak of. Honestly, what Frank and I get up to some nights is truly terrifying. But hey, this ensemble is the perfect outfit for Family Flick Night with the roomies—so it isn’t all for nothing!
I dash out of my room and foot-surf toward the staircase, feeling happier than I have in quite some time. Having Finley in London with me in my new life here has improved my mood immensely. Who needs a man when I have the best of friends?
I come bounding down the stairs, singing obnoxiously at the top of my lungs, “Faaaamily fliiiick niiiiiight.”
My eyes land happily on Finley coming out of the dining room as she’s shooting warning daggers at me fiercely. I frown in confusion as I stop in the foyer and she rushes over to me. She jerks me roughly around so she’s facing my back.
“Thank God,” she mumbles.
Just as I turn to look back at her, my eyes lock onto Theo’s staring at me from the living room. I tense immediately. Finley swerves me back around to face her wide aqua eyes. My green eyes have to be as big as plates right now! She silently shoves me back toward the stairs.
Yes. Retreat, Lez, retreat immediately! Abort mission! Abort mission!
I shoot up the steps and hear steps following closely behind. Assuming it’s Finley, I reach my room. I quickly open it and am suddenly manhandled inside. The door slams shut behind me and I turn around, shocked to see an out-of-breath Theo, panting as he holds the door shut and locks it.
The loud click of the lock radiates inside the room. My jaw drops at the audacity of his actions. I hear Finley shouting something from behind the door.
I want to scream at him and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing right now. But I can’t find my voice. Theo and I stare at each other silently for what feels like ages, both of us catching our breaths from our mad dash up the steps. Neither of us say anything, yet it feels like we’re communicating somehow.
“What are you doing, Theo?” I ask softly, feeling strangely emotional after our silent communication exchange.
“Please, Leslie,” he sighs, licking his lips earnestly. His expression is nervous. Vulnerable. My eyes travel down taking in his taut muscles smashed inside a grey, long-sleeved thermal shirt. His expertly faded jeans are loose and ripped in all the right places. I instantly remember what he felt like under my body that night at the club and my betraying libido stirs.
“I…” I start, but am interrupted by Finley’s shouts through the door.
“Leslie! Are you okay in there, hon?” she asks, knocking loudly at the same time.
I let out a huff of exasperated air, unsure how to answer that question. I have no fucking clue what’s happening between Theo and I right now. Feeling strangely safe, despite how little I know about him, I attempt a reply. “Umm,” I cock a questioning brow to Theo. He widens his eyes pleadingly but says nothing.
“Uhhhh,” I say again, trying to make a decision. “Yes!” I shout dejectedly. “We’ll be down in a minute.” Theo sighs heavily and relaxes his defensive stance.
“What are you doing?” I ask again with more conviction this time.
“Leslie. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says hastily, without a hint of hesitation.
I eye him incredulously. “Theo, you don’t even know anything about me.” I pull on the neck of my onesie pajamas self-consciously. Seriously. Seriously. Like I haven’t been mortified enough in front of this hot man? Just put another shrimp on the barbie I guess! Maybe I’ll get explosive diarrhea and we can call it the trifecta turkey of humiliation for Leslie: A dance-gasm, embarrassing PJs, and diarrhea, cha cha cha.
“I don’t need to know anything about you, Leslie. I see everything that matters. It’s a feeling. It’s in my gut. My core. I can’t…I can’t…” he pauses, looking down. “I can’t get you out of my mind.” He looks back up at me earnestly.
I shake my head dismissively. “You are cuckoo for cocoa puffs, man! You couldn’t possibly see anything interesting…” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Screw that, Leslie. Still,” he growls, slightly. I look at him in confusion. He clears his throat and continues, “Still. You still light up a room. You sparkle. It wasn’t the beer that night at the club, or the spinning lights, or your incredibly sexy outfit at that stupid, stupid party. It wasn’t any of that shite. It was you! You for me. No one else. Still.”
“I don’t even know what that means, Theo. Still what? Why do you keep saying still?”
“When I walked into your house two weeks ago and I saw you crouched on the floor, wiping tears out of your eyes from laughter, I felt it, Leslie. That feeling that you’re supposed to listen to. It changed me. I’ve never felt that before. It was you. You are…enthralling! Stunning. Somehow, you inspire feelings in me, Leslie. Feelings I thought I had no chance at having since…” he frowns slightly and stops himself from finishing. “I can’t walk away from it…it means something.”
I stand completely still and silent for what feels like hours, my mind reeling through all of the words he just said. I feel frozen. Frozen in time…shock…whatever! Suddenly, he peels himself off my bedroom door and stalks toward me. Again, just like that night at the club. That serious look in his eyes that scares the bejesus out of me. I shake my head, attempting to clear out the stupor in it. When he’s so close to me I have to look up to see his face, my breath hitches at his pale brown eyes inside those dark-rimmed glasses. It’s like they are perfectly displaying his sincerity. Is this guy for real?
He reaches out and brushes my bangs off to the side of my forehead. I instinctively close my eye
s at the sensation of his rough fingers on my smooth skin. I can feel his warm breath closing in on my face and I’m powerless to stop it.
When I feel the smooth softness of his full lips, my kneecaps tremble. Holy shit, I didn’t know being weak in the knees was a real thing! His arms band around my waist and he holds me to him, kissing me ferociously. I am consumed by him in this moment. Entirely his. I feel like a snowflake, melting and absorbing into his hot touch. The only muscles in my body working in this moment are my lips as they meet his kiss with equal vigor.
I stumble sideways and he lifts me, easily perching me on the edge of my desktop. I feel the keyboard pressing on my bum as he fits himself perfectly between my thighs. When his growing arousal nudges my center, that stupid keyboard is immediately forgotten.
His hands rove hard up and down my back, sides, and arms. It’s a firm pressure that feels urgent and desperate and further stokes the blazing fire inside me. Our kiss turns bruising and feverish. Finally, I break away from his mouth for an overdue breath.
“This is crazy,” I pant and pucker my lip, attempting to get control of myself. Honestly, this shit doesn’t happen in real life.
“I don’t care, Leslie. I’m into you. I’m not holding anything back. I don’t want to. You should know, I think I…” he stops himself suddenly and swallows, looking nervous and unsure.
The tension between us is crackling. There’s no way he’s actually into me. He doesn’t even know me. He doesn’t know anything about my life, where I grew up, or my family. My family…
“Theo,” I say, placing my hand firmly on his muscled chest as he leans in for another kiss. “I need some air. I can’t do this like this. I’m not…looking for a boyfriend. Or relationship. Everything you said was…major! And that’s just not what I’m about.”
“Not what you’re about?” he asks, gawking at me in horror. His expression transforms from lustful to spiteful in a matter of seconds.
“I just… I have other things to focus on in my life. Boyfriends and relationships aren’t one of them.” He steps back from between my legs and I suddenly feel very stupid and vulnerable spread eagle on my desk in a fucking cheetah onesie.
Welcome to a day in the life of cheetah onesies and brooding alphas!
He scoffs hard and glares at me meanly. “Don’t look at me like that,” I say, feeling a bit less flustered now that there’s some space between us. “And don’t make me feel like you want more than just a good time!” I hop off the desk and straighten my hair, attempting to muster up a shred of confidence.
“You sure seem to know everything I’m thinking, don’t you, Leslie?”
I eye him seriously, taking in his puffed-out chest. “Look, before we say anything we’ll regret, let’s get some air. This was supposed to be family flick night. Fun…not…whatever this is,” I say, gesturing back toward the desk.
Theo’s angry expression disappears and he stares at me now, clearly feeling wounded. A part of me wants to run to him instantly and comfort him. But I know that will only confuse things further.
He stands so still. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. I wait patiently for him to say something or just turn around and leave. When he continues not moving and not breathing, I feel nervous, his face turning redder and redder. Finally, he lets out a long puff of air and I find myself doing the same. Was he holding his breath just then? He transforms his wounded expression back to angry and brooding.
Good, I’m sure he’s deduced that I’m not worth it. And I’m not the done deal that he thinks I am. If he wants someone to screw, he needs to look elsewhere. Despite how obviously attracted to him I am, I just don’t want to open up like that to anyone right now or anytime soon.
I awkwardly walk to the door, open it, and stand back waiting for him to leave. He pauses next to me, shooting daggers. I can’t even make eye contact with him. I feel ashamed and embarrassed about all the beautiful words he said to me. I simply cannot accept them. He probably regrets them now anyway.
He doesn’t even know you, Leslie.
After what feels like ages of him staring at me in stony silence, he storms out the door and I let out a huge breath, following him down the stairs.
We all sit awkwardly in the living room for the rest of family flick night while Finley deals with Brody showing up on our doorstep out of the blue. Liam and Frank disappear into the kitchen for quite a while. Mitch, Julie, Theo, and I all sit silently watching the movie. There are a few excruciating moments where Mitch and Julie decide to make out.
Fucking kill me…please.
Theo glances at me broodingly but remains silent waiting for Liam so they can leave. Many times I think he’s going to say something to me, but he somehow restrains himself, for which I’m grateful. I don’t trust myself around this guy. He is way too tempting.
When the time finally comes for them to leave, Theo doesn’t even look at me. I should feel relieved and happy to be rid of him, but I wasn’t.
Frank ardently harasses me about what’s going on but I don’t reveal a word. I play it off like it’s no big deal, because really, it isn’t. What happened? Nothing. A kiss and some words. That’s all. But I can’t help but wonder how different things might be if I didn’t have my own messed-up past causing me to box out any chance of a real romantic relationship.
***
CHAPTER EIGHT
Present Day
It’s been nearly four months now since I last laid eyes on Theo. At least, in person. I’m ashamed to admit he’s been a recurring act in my dreams. No matter how hard I try to think of David Beckham instead. But Theo is now categorized into a part of my past life. And he will remain exactly there—in my past. My present, is London. London is more than enough.
I fit into the lifestyle here instantly. Growing up in a small town in Missouri, I just never fully felt like I belonged. I never felt understood. I wore clothes no one could understand, and I styled my hair differently. I was the oddball. I was living my life in vibrant color and my hometown was in black and white.
Things were black and white even with my family. My younger brother and I were so different. When Tom was younger, we were close and played together, but as he grew older and became the epitome of a high school small town hero jock, we began talking less and less.
My dad was so damn proud of Tom when he managed to score a wrestling scholarship to Iowa. That was all anyone talked about when I’d call home from college. Sure, I was happy for my brother! But what I was doing was great too! I was in the middle of a semester abroad in London, assisting huge name designers for London Fashion Week! That’s no small potatoes for our small town, yet nobody seemed to care.
Everything was about Tom. To friends, to family, and even to me, he was all my parents talked about. The timing of Tom’s full ride was the push I needed to have the courage not to go back to Missouri. London started as a simple semester abroad program my junior year. But I made the decision to remain overseas permanently.
Honestly, as soon as I set foot in London, I knew. My whole world was rocked. There is a vibe here I had never felt before. It felt like it was designed just for me! It was like I finally felt like I was home. And it still does.
When I told my parents I was dropping out of college and staying in London for the foreseeable future, it did not go well. Even Tom called me, reprimanding me for being a fool for not finishing college. I tried explaining to them that in the design industry, experience is ten times more valuable than school. And London has tons of amazing opportunities for me.
Not to mention, I am a huge nerd when it comes to my craft. I studied, researched, and constantly kept my ear to the ground to learn all the new tricks and trends coming out. I don’t need a degree to continue doing that. I don’t even need a teacher. I just need life experiences.
I almost immediately started booking decent freelance gigs in the fashion industry. Not all of them were glamorous—or entirely legal, since I didn’t quite have my work visa. Then a dream job p
opped up designing fashionable camera bags for Nikon and I fought tooth and nail to get it. I’ve been there nearly two years now and have had the most amazing experiences.
Best of all, my job made the move to London one-hundred-percent permanent. I have felt freer ever since.
Which is exactly why I don’t want a man. I don’t need one! I more than love my job. I lust it. I lust designing. When I sit behind my sewing machine in my bedroom and create something just for me, it feels sexy and exciting as hell! I’m not even ashamed to admit that I get turned on by the sound of my sewing machine. Watching that sharp needle plunge into a great fabric over and over again… Screw it. I’ll say it… My sewing machine makes me horny!
That and apparently a good thigh.
London is a dream and I am truly happy here. I’m not sure when exactly I started getting so down on myself. That’s why I’m throwing caution to the wind and partaking in Frank’s seven-day cleanse. Anything to get me out of my damn slump.
***
CHAPTER NINE
“You best get showered, Lezbo! Speed dating starts in two hours and I imagine you have some sewing to do.”
“Oooo! My skirt! I gotta finish it!” I squeal, taking off upstairs. That’s one unexpected perk about this cleanse, I get to dress the part for seven whole days!
Two hours later, I look up from the concrete pavement, sighing wistfully at our house. This beautiful place has been a security blanket to me for many years. It feels more like home than my parents’ house in Missouri ever felt. Maybe it’s the wild purple door and green ivy wrapping up the side. God, it’s a charming house.
“Stop thinking about running inside and slipping into your onesie, Lezbo. You have seven days under my tutelage and they will go much smoother if you just submit to my whims.”
“I’m so getting drunk tonight,” I mumble as I quicken my step to catch up to Frank’s long strides.
“I expected this. I think it might help actually. Loosen you up.” He wraps his slender arms around me as we walk. His fitted leather jacket is shoved up onto his forearms and his black Skinny Jeans look smart and yet still so uniquely Frank.