by Swan, T L
I throw my hands up in the air. “Where do I start?”
The waitress comes over. “Yes, sir?”
“Can I have a Corona, please?”
“Of course.”
“And keep them coming.”
The three of them sit tentatively, waiting for the story. “So, this fucking idiot who I do business with has been hammering me for twelve months to take his niece out on a date.”
Masters grins. “You’re an idiot.”
“You haven’t heard half the story yet,” I hit back.
“We don’t need to.” Seb chuckles, and they all exchange looks again.
“Anyway, I ran into his car in the car park last week, and he used it as leverage to make me feel bad, and he talked me into taking her out.” I shake my head. They’re right, I am an idiot. “I agreed on the condition that it was a double date, so then I could get out of there as soon as possible. I organised one of the guys from work to come with me, and he knew I was leaving early and was going to be left with two women. He’s hoping for a threesome or some shit.” My beer arrives. “Thank you.” I take a long hard gulp of it. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”
“You were saying?” Bree frowns.
“My date, Sarah arrives, and I will admit it, she’s pretty hot.”
“What’s the problem then?” Masters frowns.
“Guess who her friend was?” I snap. “The one set up with my friend.”
“Who?” they all ask at once.
“Charlotte Prescott.”
Their eyes widen.
I nod. “That’s right. My dream girl who isn’t into me is sitting across the table with my fucking friend holding her hand.”
“What?” Seb whispers.
Bree puts her hand over her mouth and starts to giggle. “Oh, this is karma, Spence.”
“Only she isn’t Charlotte Prescott tonight. She introduces herself as Lottie Preston. A totally different person,” I continue. “And she works in a fucking mailroom with Sarah now—Sarah my date!”
“Wait, I’m confused.” Bree frowns.
“That makes two of us,” I snap.
“Why was she pretending be someone else?” Seb asks.
“I have no idea.” I shrug and drain my beer. “But it wasn’t long before I lost complete control of myself and followed her to the bar to start giving her shit about her kicking me out of her house two weeks ago.”
Sebastian throws his head back and laughs out loud. “Why are you still going on about that?”
“Because it fucking pissed me off. No woman has ever thrown me out before.”
Masters shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Well, what did she say?” Bree asks.
“She asked me not to blow her cover and said she wanted to be someone else for a while.”
They exchange confused looks.
“I know.” I shrug. “And she was dressed all sexy, and then I told her that I like Charlotte Prescott, and she starts going on about how I couldn’t get away from her fast enough because she was a virgin—”
“That is true, though,” Masters cuts in. “She did freak you out.”
“Completely,” I mutter as I sip my beer. “But she didn’t know that.”
“Well, she obviously did.” Sebastian shrugs.
I exhale heavily. “And then the worst news of my life comes.”
Bree giggles. “You’re so dramatic, you really should go into theatre.”
The boys both chuckle in agreement.
I raise my beer to them in a silent toast. “It turns out she isn’t a virgin anymore.”
Their mouths fall open, and I take an angry swig of my beer.
“So, there I was, being all gallant and leaving her fucking hot hymen in place for her future husband, and some other asshole has flown in and stolen it right out from beneath me.”
The three of them all burst out laughing, thinking this is the funniest thing they have ever heard.
“This isn’t funny!” I shout at each one of them.
“This is fucking hilarious.” Masters laughs.
I tip my head back and drain my beer bottle. “If I knew she was just going to give it away to any old prick, I would’ve fucking taken it…. wouldn’t I?” I roll my eyes. “I can’t fucking believe this shit.”
“Any old prick being the operative word,” says Seb, and the three of them burst out laughing again.
I shake my head in disgust. “That’s it, laugh at my expense, you arseholes. I’m getting new friends.”
They eventually finish their fits of laughter. “Spencer, why are you here?” Bree frowns. “Why didn’t you stay with her?”
I fake a smile because this story is so fucked up that I can’t believe it myself. “Because she wasn’t my date. My date was going gooey-eyed over the table at me… and she happens to be Charlotte’s friend.” I put my hand up for another drink. “If I’d stayed on that date, I would have had to stay with her friend, which means there is absolutely no chance Charlotte would ever go out with me because the friends rule overtakes all rules. And once you go out with the friend, there is no going back. You will always be the friend’s ex.”
They all nod, finally understanding my predicament.
“I did what I had to do.”
“What?” Seb asks.
“I accused her of sleeping with her bodyguard and told her I was going to knock him out.”
“You can’t fight for shit.” Masters chuckles.
“I know that! But I asked her to leave with me anyway.” I shake my head and sip my beer, completely dejected. “She declined and told me to have a nice life.”
The three of them burst out laughing again, and this time I can’t help it… I find myself laughing too.
I drop my head into my hands.
“What are you going to do?” Seb asks.
“Get rolling drunk in hymen commiseration.”
They all burst out laughing again.
“This isn’t fucking funny!”
Charlotte
It’s Monday afternoon and I’m sitting at my computer next to my work colleagues, each of us going through our emails and paperwork for the day.
Sarah checks her phone for the fiftieth time today. “Damn it, why hasn’t he called?”
“He’s an idiot.” I sigh. “Forget about Spencer Jones, you can do a lot better.”
At least he could have called her to tell her he isn’t interested.
I hate that I like that he isn’t interested.
“What was the other guy like?” Paul asks.
“Oh, he was really nice,” I say. “And I think he liked Sarah.”
“He did not.” She sighs.
The three of us ended up having a really good time, and we danced the night away.
My email pings, the name Spencer Jones appearing in front of me.
My heart skips a beat.
I glance to the other two who are only a metre or so away from my desk.
Shit, shit, shit.
Hello Lottie,
I would have called you, but I don’t have your number.
Would you like to have dinner tonight?
Spence.
Oh my God. I quickly close the email, get up and move away from my desk.
I don’t want to be suspicious, so I scurry to the kitchen.
“Anyone want a coffee?” I ask them.
“Please,” they both answer.
I can’t believe Spencer is emailing me when I am sitting next to someone who is waiting for his call.
Good grief.
I make the coffees with my mind in overdrive, and then I take my time returning to my desk.
Just say no. Yes.
Okay, I’m just going to email him and say no. That’s easy.
I open the email and hit reply.
Mr Spencer
I cannot think of one good reason why I should
want to go out with you. My answer is no.
Lottie.
I look left then right and hit send.
A reply hits my inbox in an instant.
Dearest Lottie,
You are mistaken
I can think of at least thirty reasons why you should go out with me.
Spencer.
Poor, conceited fool.
Mr Spencer,
Name them.
I hit send and smirk against my coffee cup.
I answer a few emails, and then another reply comes back.
Lottie,
Although I have many obvious attributes, I will
happily oblige your request.
1 – I have white teeth.
2 – I love my grandma.
3 – I bake delicious cakes.
4 – I have blonde hair like you, we could dress as twins on fancy dress.
I giggle before I catch myself.
5 – I don’t tell lies.
6 – I like naughty kittens.
I put my hand over my mouth and close the email before I laugh out loud.
This man is an idiot. Can’t he at least pretend to be cool. I head to the bathroom to try and calm myself before I go back to my desk and open the email again.
7 – I am a size 13 shoe.
You work out what that means.
I bite back my grin.
8 – I’m not scared of your brother
My heart drops, if only he knew how important that point is to me.
9 – I’m taller than you.
10 – I can’t stop thinking about you.
7
Charlotte
I quickly close the email and sit back in my chair.
He can’t stop thinking about me.
Well, the feeling is completely mutual. I’ve thought of nothing but him since Saturday night. I stare at the computer screen for awhile, wondering what to do.
He really hurt my pride the other week at my house, but worse than that, he hurt my feelings. I don’t like the power he has over me, nobody has ever had the ability to hurt me before.
But I know he could do a really good job of it… will do a good job of it.
I blow out a dejected breath. Spencer Jones may be the most fun man I’ve met in a long time, but we are better off just being friends. I already know what the future holds for us. I don’t want to be one of his harem. He made it very clear that he isn’t interested in virgins.
And even though I told him that my virginity ship has sailed…. I also know deep down in my heart that telling him I was no longer a virgin was an appalling lie, and he isn’t actually attracted to women like me.
He likes the challenge.
I would too if I were him.
God, I can’t believe that he actually thinks I may have slept with Wyatt. That’s laughable.
“Do you want to come up to level fourteen, Lottie?” Sarah asks.
“What for?” I frown.
“It’s Callam’s birthday. They‘re having cake.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I smile.
“How old is Mr Hot Dick turning?” I ask.
“Who cares? All I know is that he’s old enough to do terrible things to my body.”
I giggle as she pulls me towards the lifts and we get inside.
“I just wish he would get with the program and do it already.” She sighs.
“You should ask Callam out?”
“Yeah.” She thinks for a moment. “Maybe I will.” She shrugs. “If I used my brain and had some foresight, I would have popped out of his birthday cake.”
I burst out laughing, getting a vision of her covered in whipped cream and popping out of a huge cake. “I don’t think level fourteen is prepared for your level of hotness, Sarah.”
“I know, right?”
* * *
The ceiling of my room is plastered with fancy, swirling circular shapes, and my apartment is dead quiet as I stare up at it. It’s the early hours of the morning, but I can’t sleep. I’m preoccupied with this weird feeling—one of realisation. It’s as if my eyes have finally been open to what I’m missing out on by being a Prescott.
Working, laughing, and being asked out every hour at work by gorgeous men have all made me happy—the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
And this isn’t even my life.
It’s one big fat lie.
I roll over and punch my pillow in disgust. Who am I kidding? Most people on the planet would give their right arm to have what I’ve been born into and the privileged life that I live.
I’m being ungrateful, I know I am. I mean, I do appreciate everything that I have.
I stare into the darkness as a tear rolls down my face and onto my pillow.
I feel so lost.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me? Maybe I need to go back to my grief counsellor?
Yes…that’s probably it. I’ll call and make an appointment tomorrow. I haven’t been for over a year now.
I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Big blue eyes and pale skin stare back at me. My blonde hair is in a high messy bun, and I’m wearing odd pyjamas. There’s nothing special about me. I’m just a normal girl who happens to have four-billion dollars in the bank.
I storm back to bed and pull the covers over me to stare up at the ceiling again.
I’m lonely as hell.
* * *
My email pings. Spencer Jones again.
I smirk and look around guilty. It’s 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon, and I hate to admit it, but I’ve checked my emails every half an hour today.
I don’t want him to email me, but then I kind of do.
Dear Lottie
I am so sorry to hear that you’ve had a terrible accident and broken all of your fingers and are unable to email me back.
I smirk.
I shall however, as usual, pick up your slack and continue with my reasons as to why you should have dinner with me.
11 – I am a specialist in broken finger first aid.
I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud. He’s an idiot.
12 – I don’t have a YouPorn profile.
I frown. What does that mean?
13 – I have nice feet
14 – I can fold a fitted sheet.
15 – I have huge muscles.
I roll my lips to hide my goofy smile, why does he have to be all cute and adorable?
16 – I read ten books a week.
Pft, I highly doubt that.
17 – I’m nocturnal.
18 – I manscape.
He manscapes.…. My shoulders begin to bounce as I try to hide my giggles.
19 - I am on the navigation team for Santa Claus’s sleigh.
I burst out laughing, unable to catch myself.
Sarah looks over. “What’s funny?”
I close the email quickly. “Nothing, I was just…” I pause as I try to think of something. “I was just remembering something I watched last night.”
“What was it?” She keeps typing.
“Oh, just this weird guy was playing tricks on people.” I widen my eyes, good grief. “It was hilarious,” I add.
She raises her eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hmm, sounds it.” She stands. “I’m going to the bathroom. Does anyone want a coffee while I’m up?”
“Please,” we both say.
I drop my head to desperately try to stop myself from laughing out loud. Spencer’s on the navigation team for Santa Claus. Now I really have heard it all. I click the email open again and read the last reason.
20 – Because I know you like me, too.
I click it shut immediately. How does he know that? I’ve not given him any reason to believe I’m interested in him.
Shit. I stare at my computer for a long time.
What do I write back? I think for a moment.
Dear Mr Spencer,
Thank you for taking the time to outline your personal attributes, which I must say, are very impressive indeed. However, unfortunately, at this time
, your application for a dinner date has been unsuccessful.
I wish you luck with your future endeavours.
Santa Claus’s navigation team? You really are an inspiration.
I must go as I’m typing this with my nose due to my severely
broken fingers and I am in terrible pain.
Lottie: xoxo
I hit send with a hint of sadness. Damn it. I hate that my pride won’t let me go out with him. He has no idea how much he kicked my confidence to the kerb.
And besides, I’ve only just started to have fun. If I begin to run around with him now it will just bring attention to me, my plan, my job, and my time in London will come to an abrupt end.
It’s a hopeless situation, anyway….it is, what it is.
Now is not the time to start something with Mr Spencer.
My email pings.
Dear Miss Charlotte,
I reject your rejection:
Give me your phone number immediately or
I’m calling you at work on your work number and asking for Charlotte Prescott on 07826653350
My mouth falls open. He wouldn’t, would he?
“W-what’s our work phone number?” I ask, trying to act casual.
Paul looks up. “07826653350.”
My eyes widen, shit…. he knows the number. I immediately type back.
Don’t you dare call me at work!
Sarah is sitting beside me, and she is waiting for you to call her.
But of course, you are too much of a coward to do that.
I hit send in a fury. God, this man drives me mad. I close my email in disgust.
Sarah’s phone immediately rings, and my heart drops. Damn it, what have I done?