Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I felt as if speech was beyond me, so I just smiled and shook my head; he didn’t need to apologise.

  “Goodbye,” he said, then he literally sprinted from the room, leaving me to wonder what had been so urgent.

  Oh well, at least I believed that he had wanted to get a drink. He needn’t have kissed me if not.

  I folded my questionnaire and slipped it into my bag, then turned to leave.

  As I waited for the lift, I touched a finger to my lips, which still seemed to tingle from where his had touched mine, and I smiled, that secret smile that the newly in love had.

  I knew that in all probability, I would never hear from him again but in that moment, I couldn’t seem to find the will to care.

  Chapter Three

  A week later, I was feeling a little down since I thought that I might have heard something from Will. I mean, granted, he didn’t ask for my number but then again, he was rushed. Still, he could have asked Katie for it and the fact that he didn’t… Yeah, that felt like a slap in the face.

  Not a knock down punch, no way was I going to fall to pieces over a man I had only spent a little over an hour with, but I’d be lying if I said that the rejection didn’t sting a little.

  Still, there was no doubt that my admiring-a-movie-star-from-a-distance crush had kicked up a gear, into… well that’s just it, I didn’t know what to call how I felt. Lust was a factor but not the overwhelming emotion. And I simply refused to believe it was love. I was not the fickle kind of person who could fall in love after an hour, even with a handsome, charismatic man such as Will.

  I wasn’t that fickle, was I?

  No. Nope. No way was I in love with that… adorable man. Seriously, why couldn’t he have had an ego the size of Texas, like some other actors? Or been an entitled arsehole, or pretty but as dumb as a post, or… be anything really, except the perfect specimen that he was.

  I groaned as I finally admitted that I was indeed in love. Maybe not life altering love. Not star-crossed lovers, soulmates, romantic or passionate love, but something real. At least, it was real for me.

  Had he felt anything?

  Ten days after the experiment, Katie called me.

  “Don’t worry,” I assured her as I answered the phone, sounding exceptionally chipper, despite actually feeling slightly subdued at the moment. “I’ve been filling in the questionnaire faithfully,” I said, hoping to pre-empt any talk of Will.

  “Great, but I didn’t call about that.”

  “Oh?” No, I hadn’t really thought that she could be so easily fooled, but I had tried.

  “No, idiot. I want to know how things are going with Will?”

  “Um, well, they aren’t.” I tried not to sound hurt about that.

  “Aren’t what?”

  “Going. Anywhere.”

  “I thought you were meeting up later?”

  Me too. “He didn’t take my number, and I didn’t think to get his.” Had he called Katie to get it, maybe? If so, why hadn’t I heard from him?

  “Oh.” Katie sounded as surprised as I was, maybe more so, which helped my ego a little because it meant that if Katie felt the same, then I hadn’t imagined the interest on his side. He could have been pretending, he was an actor after all, but that just didn’t seem to fit with the character of the man I knew.

  The man I knew for all of an hour. What did I know about his character?

  “How’s the study going?” I asked.

  “What? Oh, fine…” She sounded distracted. “Look, do you want his number?”

  “Isn’t that interfering with your study? You’re supposed to remain impartial.”

  “As a PhD candidate, I am impartial. As your friend, I’m confused. I was sure he liked you.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Um, fairly, I guess. I met him while getting my undergraduate degree. Mum insisted that I enrol in some clubs as well as studying and I decided on drama. Will was in his final year when I was in my first and we weren’t buddy-buddy, but we did a few plays together and we’ve stayed in touch, on and off. I was sure he liked you.”

  “Well if he did, wouldn’t he have called you for my phone number?”

  “I guess.” She sounded unsure, which wasn’t like Katie.

  “Look, just let it go,” I suggested. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  “Let me give you his number.”

  “Katie, no. If he’s interested, he’ll find me.”

  “Men aren’t the only ones who can be proactive, Elle. We did not go through suffrage and another 100 years of equality campaigning for you to leave it all to the guy, you know.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just hard, facing rejection?”

  She knew just which buttons to press. “And you think it isn’t hard for men?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m just a coward, I guess.”

  Katie scoffed. “Oh, come on, I’m not asking you to propose to the guy, just send him a text. If he likes you, he’ll reply and maybe something will come of it. If he doesn’t like you, then you’ll have your answer.”

  “I think I already have my answer,” I admitted.

  “Oh, Elle, nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what you tell me?”

  She was right, seize the day was a kind of mantra for me, but years of being introverted had taught me that while easy to say, it was much harder to do.

  “Okay, what’s his number?”

  She gave it to me, then we made small talk for another ten minutes until she hung up. I then gazed at the phone number for a few minutes, as if it was some ominous portent of impending doom.

  “Don’t be an idiot, you already feel rejected, so the worst that can happen is that you’ll know you’ve been rejected. False hope never did anyone any good.”

  Before I could think myself out of it, I grabbed my mobile and composed a text.

  ‘Hi. Katie gave me your number. Sorry our meeting was cut short and I hope it was nothing serious. Elle xx’

  I debated about the kisses at the end, but I always sign a text with them, usually three though. I eventually decided to delete all but one x and sent the message. I almost hoped I didn’t hear anything; if I was this neurotic after one meeting, I couldn’t imagine how insane dating him might make me feel.

  I resolutely decided to put it out of my mind and returned to my work; I was mocking up some concept sketches for a children’s book.

  My phone rang but the number said international, so I presumed it was a work call. Thanks to the internet and PayPal, I have a few international clients. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one working on Saturday.

  “Hello?” I answered, sounding like a chipper illustrator, whatever that is.

  “Elle, is that you?”

  My stylus flew over my graphics tablet, leaving an ugly line through Henry the Hedgehog’s sketch.

  “Shit!” I cried as a reflex. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m not swearing at you, I just put a line right through my drawing. Gimme a second.”

  Undo is a lifesaver and once I had undone the catastrophe, I saved my work and took those few seconds to calm down.

  “Sorry, Will. Yes, this is Elle. You just took me by surprise.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have texted you but when I got your message, I was just so pleased to hear from you.”

  As great as that was to hear, my number wasn’t exactly a national secret, so he couldn’t have wanted to speak to me that badly.

  “I couldn’t believe I left without your number but those messages were from my agent. I’ve been trying to meet with Martin Scorsese for ages, about a new film he’s putting together and suddenly he had a 24 hour window, so my agent had booked flights and I literally had an hour to get to the airport. As soon as things calmed down and I was on the flight, I realised my mistake, and to make it worse, I haven’t put Katie’s new number in my phone yet.”

  Okay, he was forgiven.

  “I confess I did a bit of int
ernet stalking to try and find you,” he said, sounding slightly contrite, “but with only Elle and illustrator to go on, I came up with far too many possibilities. I’m so sorry to leave you hanging like that.”

  I was grinning now.

  “Its fine,” I smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to call Katie earlier.”

  “What are you up to?” he asked.

  I explained the basic plot of the new series of woodland creature children’s books, and how I was making a drawing to show how I envisioned each character, according to the brief they sent. The publisher would then choose their favourite illustrator from the designs we sent in.

  “So you’re auditioning?” he asked.

  “I guess. Probably a lot less nerve wracking than auditioning is for you; I get to do most of mine in private.”

  “Do you do a lot of book illustrating?” he asked.

  “Not a lot, but the pay is decent when working with a publisher and I get royalties each time a copy is sold. It helps when work isn’t always steady. I basically take anything I’m offered, from original drawings or illustrations for covers of self-published books, to a couple of weekly web comic strips.”

  “What’s your hope in the end?” he asked. “If one of them could support you?”

  “I guess I’d like to do more graphic novels, either my own or illustrating for others. I’ve done some for indie comic houses but the pay isn’t terrific. Actually, I do like some diversity in my work, so I don’t know if I’d give everything else up, even if I could afford to.”

  “Sounds like you have the perfect job,” he agreed.

  “Except that I work from home. It gets a little lonely sometimes but on the other hand, I have the kind of freedom that an office job wouldn’t give me.”

  “You really sound as if you love your work,” he told me.

  “I do,” I was grinning. I could talk about my work all day long if allowed to. “I don’t think it matters what you do, as long as you enjoy it, then it stops being work and becomes fun.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he enthused.

  “Anyway, enough about me, how did your meeting with Scorsese go?”

  “It went well, I think. I’m quietly confident but things are far from finalised. I doubt the movie will be made for another 18 months or more, they’re still putting the script together.”

  “I have faith in you,” I assured him.

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Buoyed by my non-rejection, I decide to push my luck.

  “So, do you still want to get together for that drink sometime?”

  “Love to, but I’m stuck in LA for another few days. I was headed out here soon anyway, the meeting just meant I had to leave four days early, then there didn’t seem any point in flying home just to come back. I’ve got a couple more meetings and auditions, then I have to make a few stops on the way home, publicising a DVD release, but I should be home on Friday. How does that strike you?”

  “You mean go out on Friday?”

  “Yeah. I should land about six pm.”

  “Will! I can't believe you’re suggesting that! You’ll be jetlagged to hell and no one in their right mind would agree to go out with you that night.”

  “But I want to see you,” he said softly.

  I sighed, realising I may have come across more harshly than I intended. “I want to see you too,” I admitted. “Tell you what, why don’t I come to yours, I’ll cook some food and bring DVDs and that way, if you pass out mid-evening, I won’t have to wrangle you into any cabs.”

  “That sound like an excellent plan, darling.”

  “Are you sure you want me invading your personal space that soon?”

  “Thanks to Katie’s experiment, I feel like you’ve invaded my space already and I must say, it’s been a pleasure.”

  I grinned. “Charmer.”

  “That’s me.” I could almost picture his cocky smile. “So anyway, what time do you usually go to bed?”

  “Um, I don’t know, between eleven and 2am. depending on the day and how well I can sleep. Why?”

  “Because my driver will be knocking on my door any second now, but I’d like to talk to you some more. Can I call you this evening?”

  “Of course. What time is it there?”

  I checked the time on my laptop. “Just gone a quarter to five. What about there?”

  “Nearly 9am.”

  “Oh God, my text didn’t wake you, did it?”

  “No, I was in the shower.”

  Now why would he put such naughty thoughts into my head? Didn’t he know how dangerous that was?

  “Hold up there, buddy,” I said in my best cop impression. “I have another two sketches to finish today, so all talk of you being naked, especially with water cascading over you or things being lathered or rubbed onto your body, must stop!”

  He was silent for a beat and I wondered if I’d said too much. I was only teasing.

  “Hmm,” he murmured, in a voice that can only be described as sex on legs. “You must have an exceptionally dirty mind to get all that from one innocent shower comment.”

  A lady neither confirms nor denies such allegations, so I remained quiet.

  “I look forward to exploring it.”

  I gasped as desire literally pooled between my legs. “You! You dirty rotten tease!” I yelled, although I wasn’t actually angry. “You can't say stuff like that in your smooth-as-silk voice and get people all worked up and then not follow through! You’re mean!”

  He chuckled but it was a slightly deeper sound than I remembered. “Oh darling, you have no idea. But don’t worry, one day soon, you will.”

  Bastard! Stinking, rotten bastard.

  “That’s my driver at the door,” he said, his tone just as sexy. “Now darling, I want you to promise me that whatever happens after I hang up, you will give me a blow by blow account later.”

  Did he mean?

  “You mean you want me to tell you about…”

  “Masturbating, yes. And if you’re a very good girl, I’ll help you come again.”

  I heard a door open and he must have put a hand over the mouthpiece as his “Good morning,” was muffled. “Lovely talking to you, darling,” he was back speaking to me now, “but I really have to go now. Remember what I said.”

  I narrowed my eyes and spoke slowly and I hoped menacingly. “You are a dead man, Braxton.”

  “I do hope that’s a promise. I’m about to get into the lift so if we get cut off, remember I’ll call you-”

  And he was gone.

  I sat there, the phone still pressed to my ear for a few moments.

  What the fuck just happened? Did my English gentleman just reveal his dirty side?

  A devilish smile spread over my lips as I realised, he did. And I liked it.

  As turned on as I was, I really did need to finish these sketches today, then I could have a few days to let them rest before going back and checking that I really was happy with them. As such, my wank would have to wait but with any luck, it would be all the better for it.

  ***

  When it came down to it, I actually wasn’t in the mood to have phone sex with Will and while he made one or two leading comments, he obviously took my hint and didn’t press the matter. In fact, he was a perfect gentleman.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was more a case of feeling insecure. He was a movie star, I was a plain Jane and I worried he’d see me as a sex line or something. I knew this was my own insecurities coming to the fore, but I couldn’t help how I felt. Besides, phone sex is not to be expected after only one meeting, one text and one phone call.

  Still, he called me twice a day, morning and early evening for him. For me it was late afternoon and late night. I offered to call him sometimes but he insisted that his call package gave reasonable international rates. I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t even have an international call package, so I let him talk me into it.

  I vowed to cook him something nice when he
got back, just hoping that his flight wasn’t delayed.

  I was pleasantly surprised when he kept calling, and we talked about anything and everything, from TV to politics (yes I know the rule, but we still like each other, amazingly, and I don’t think he’s taken a hit out on me, so we survived).

  In fact, our talks were so good, that I often stayed up later than I should, causing me to become somewhat nocturnal. I’m not sure the postman knew what to make of me when I answered the door at 10.30 am to sign for a parcel, with bed head and only an inside out dressing gown protecting my modesty. I was usually the picture of professionalism when he rang. Well okay, my hair was mostly up in a messy bun and I didn’t often wear make-up in the house, but at least I was usually dressed, even if there sometimes were tea stains on my t-shirt.

  My closest friends and my sister, knew about Will, but they didn’t exactly know who he was yet.

  Hannah, that’s my sister, knew all about the experiment and was keen to know how things had gone so when she called, I told her about Will and how well I thought we’d hit it off, and about him running out then coming back for a quick kiss. I of course, downplayed things, not letting myself believe that I actually cared about him, so I certainly wasn’t about to admit more than a passing attraction to my protective older sister. She asked a lot of questions about him, sensing my interest, and when I hedged on some answers, she called me out (sisters are good at that) so I realised I’d have to tell the truth, or at least part of it. I’d just watched the National Theatre’s DVD of Hamlet, which Will had been in, so I told Hannah that he worked at the Old Vic Theatre, where the production was filmed. She thinks he’s some kind of administrator cum stage hand.

  I fed the same story to my two closest friends, Laurie, an old university friend, and Marie, who I had met when I moved into my building (she had since moved away to live with her boyfriend, but our friendship remained strong).

  I feel bad about lying, really I do, but I’m just not ready for the reaction when they learn I’m dating Tumblr’s main squeeze (yeah, I’d done a lot of googling on him, and that site seems especially obsessed with the man, he was second only to Benedict Cumberbatch, in fact. To be fair, I could understand people’s obsession with Will).