March 2007

MARK

My feet pound the wet pavement as I kick up my pace for the final stretch of my run. No amount of exercise will shift last night's events from my head. I even pummelled the punch bag until my arms burned with fatigue, and still Zoe's gentle moans sang through my head like a song on repeat. I saw a different side to her. A more primal one. An intimate one. And I want to see it again and again and again.

The block of flats come into view, and I push through the remaining painful strides before letting the brick wall break my speed. Hands on my hips, I tip back my head to catch my breath.

Who knew Zoe had a hidden side? And why did I enjoy kissing her so much when usually kissing is a tedious precursor to a more interesting activity?

I plod up the outer steps, pausing halfway to tear off my damp t-shirt and wipe the sweat dripping down my brow. The rain is refreshing against my bare skin, but it can't wash away the thoughts of Zoe's body from my mind. I've seen her in minimal clothes previously. Ridiculously short skirts or tight tops that leave little to the imagination. Turns out my imagination is poor, though, because never could I have guessed how perfect her body is underneath the fabric.

In fact, I've replayed it so many times that I'm starting to wonder if I'm misremembering. If maybe her skin wasn't as soft, or her tits weren't as huge. It was the hottest kiss of my life—not difficult, mind you—so perhaps my memory is exaggerating the reality.

I reach the flat entrance and shove my hand into my pocket to pluck out the key. Just as I push it into the lock, the door swings open.

Zoe stands there, wearing considerably more clothes than the last time I saw her. Fuck. I used to hate that bright pink coat, but even that looks good on her now.

"Oh." Her eyes widen, then drop to my chest.

I've received text messages that are harder to read than Zoe's body language. It drives me insane, seeing how she checks me out with unrestrained interest. There's clearly a mutual attraction between us. Now we've succumbed to it, what's stopping us from exploring it further? She said it herself last night: two friends acting on an urge. It doesn't have to be complicated or messy. If she can handle it, I certainly can.

"Where are you going this early?" I ask.

She bites her bottom lip and glances up at me. "Oh, um... just for a walk. Couldn't sleep."

She's sneaking out. That's what she's doing. And I've caught her in the act.

"Want some company?" I offer.

It's not just because I want to watch her squirm through her lie; I hate the idea of her walking through London's streets alone this early in the morning.

"You look like you've just finished," she says.

I shrug. "I still need to warm down. A walk will help. Just let me grab a fresh top and jacket."

Before she can argue, I squeeze past her and stride through to my room. The distrusting part of me wonders if she'll make a run for it while I'm changing. Something about last night has unsettled her, and I don't have the patience to play more guessing games to work out what it was.

To my relief, she's leaning against the railing when I return. She offers me a small smile and sets off down the exterior corridor while I follow her and try not to ogle her ass. One part of her body I didn't get round to touching last night. Pretty much my only regret.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" I ask as we fall into step together once out of the flat complex.

"Sexual frustration."

Fuck. Was not expecting that.

I glance down at her, and she shoots a coy smile back up at me. Her cheeks are rosy, but that could just be the fresh air.

Maybe, for the hundredth time since meeting her, I've misjudged the girl. Maybe she wasn't trying to avoid me after all.

I clear my throat and slide my hands into my pockets. "I could've helped with that."

She hums lightly. "Seemed a bit one-sided."

Probably shouldn't have mauled her as much as I did. It's easy to get carried away when given the opportunity to sample forbidden fruit consequence-free.

"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was pressuring you."

Her head spins to face me, eyes wide. "You didn't! That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"Just that..." She tightens the coat belt around her waist, then fingers the end of the fuchsia wool strip. "You gave me a lot of attention, and I feel I didn't return it."

Is she serious? Her grabby hands were everywhere. My hair, my shoulders, my face, my arms, my stomach... Not to mention she was grinding on my dick like someone riding a bucking bronco.

"Not how I remembered it," I say.

"Oh. Well maybe I—"

I shoot out an arm to stop her walking straight into the road. A car flies past, and she gasps, her fingers wrapping around my sleeve as she leans away from the rush of air.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yes," she squeaks. "Sorry. Thank you."

I nod. Zoe nearly getting run over is a big enough diversion from our previous topic. That's probably for the best, because just thinking about last night gets me hard, and talking about it—with her—is a challenge too far.

Instead, she starts chattering on about me becoming a bodyguard. It'd be a smooth enough segue if she hadn't mentioned it fifty times before.

My current role as a bouncer suits me. It's flexible shift patterns, I can be a dick when I need to be, and I've got a good eye for fake IDs. The pay isn't bad, either.

"...And you never know, you could end up assigned to a girl who you eventually fall in love with."

Weird thing to say after last night. Maybe she's clutching at straws since her previous attempts at career coaching haven't worked.

"I'm not interested in a girlfriend right now."

In hindsight, that wasn't the most tactful response on my part, either, but she yet again surprises me by looking happy about that.

"Really? Like, not at all?"

"No."

"Huh. Boyfriend?"

"No."

Shit. What if she's happy about it because she thinks that leaves the door open for her?

"What about you?" I keep my tone light. "Any guys on your course?"

"Nah." She scrunches her nose. "I got it so wrong with JJ. It makes me worry I'm an awful judge of character. Easier to stay away from relationships."

"Not every guy is like JJ." I don't know why I'm advocating for men when just the thought of her being with someone else sickens me to the core.

"I know, but it's not just him. Look at who I chose as my friends, too. A group of girls who ditched me as soon as I fell out of their radius. And then one of them started seeing my ex. People always let me down or show a lack of respect for me. I can't keep repeating that pattern. I'd rather fly solo for a bit, raise my standards."

That's admirable. And convenient, too, on a selfish note. I'm not ready to open my heart to someone, she's not willing to settle down...

"What's your excuse?" she then asks. "Is it the Ruby thing? Because not all girls are like Ruby."

Her cute smile is adorable, and my own lips react almost instinctively.

"I got it wrong with her, too," I say. "I'm usually a good judge of character, but I've been getting it wrong recently. Plus, she hurt me. I got rejected by Fiona for a married guy. Then I lost Ben... Safer to stay away from situations where I'll get hurt."

"Were you and Ben more than friends?"

"No. Just close friends. Best friends, maybe. Not sure. He probably had other friends outside work. But for me, he was my main guy."

We loop around the block and head back towards the flat. Not a day goes by when I don't miss Ben. I'd give anything for his advice right now, even though I know what he'd say. He'd tell me to trust Zoe, but then he'd also encourage me to follow my instinct.

Is it instinct or fear that's warning me not to fall for her? She literally just said she doesn't want a relationship; I can't set myself up for another rejection, nor for the months of anxiety over whether she'd eventually leave me. Easier and safer to keep this casual if she's on board with that.

"You obviously have a big heart," Zoe says.

"You sound surprised."

"I am. You don't let me in much. Not into those deeper emotions, anyway. And yet you obviously have them. Nobody wants to risk getting hurt again. I know I don't. It's totally relatable. But you can still open up to me."

"Isn't that what I just did?" I ask.

We pause to cross the road. This time I don't have to save her life.

"Maybe a little. You still sounded totally detached doing it."

"That's just my voice."

"It's not, though." She nudges me with her elbow.

This isn't the first time she's encouraged me to open up to her. If I tell her the real reason I won't do that, she'll probably take it the wrong way. Even if she claims she doesn't want a boyfriend, no girl would be fine hearing that their friend doesn't want to get emotionally attached to them.

*

I learnt a few things through Zoe's trashy quiz. For starters, she likes sex toys. She's also sexually frustrated. So when I find her kneeling on the kitchen worktop that evening, stretching for the empty ice cream tub where we keep the batteries, I can't resist calling her out.

"What you doing?" I ask.

She jumps, toppling off the worktop. One hand darts out to grab the counter edge and steady herself. Skimpy pyjamas tempt my gaze over her chest, where hard nipples are straining against pink silk.

"Uh, looking for batteries," she says.

I can't give her credit for honesty when she knows she's been caught red-handed.

"What do you need batteries for?"

She tips her chin up towards the cupboard. "Can you pass me the box, please?"

Considering I'm a pro at dodging questions, it sure is irritating to be on the receiving end of it.

I stroll across the kitchen and press her up against the worktop as I reach above her head for the yellow tub. Hips crushed together, blood pounds through my ears. She closes her eyes with a shaky breath. Her knuckles whiten against the counter edge, and one thin pyjama strap slips over her shoulder.

It's dangerously enticing, and that's why I hook a finger beneath the silk strip and ease it back into place. Goosebumps pucker her flushed skin when I trail my touch down her arm, over the sensitive flesh on the inside of her elbow, pausing to linger on her wrist. The warmth rolling off her body sears through every layer of resistance.

This girl might break my heart in a year's time, but if I don't at least try to find out what she's like in bed, I'll never get over it.

"I like these." I trace the lace detail that lines the v-neck of her top.

"The pyjamas?" She murmurs, soft and breathless. With every rise and fall of her chest, her tits press into me.

She's got guts in the bedroom—I saw a taste of that last night—but does she realise how attractive she is? Hourglass figure. Full lips. Kind eyes. Fuck, she's perfect. I know so much about her, but I don't know what she sounds like when she comes, how her face contorts in pleasure, and I have this unshakeable need to find out.

Her eyes flutter open and find mine. A slice of uncertainty cuts through the desire. Is she having second thoughts? I shift some of my body weight off her, give her room to breathe a little.

"What are you thinking?" she whispers.

Can't tell her that. Her head would explode. Would rather make other parts of her explode instead.

"I'm thinking maybe we shouldn't do this."

I'm not thinking that. I'm thinking we definitely should do this, but I need to offer her a way out in case she isn't as into this as me.

Her eyes narrow, head tilting to one side. "Say that again."

Feels like a trap. I forge on regardless.

"We shouldn't do this."

She stares at me for a few seconds more, then her plump lips stretch into a grin.

"Either I'm getting to know you much better, or that's the first time you've ever lied to me."

The fuck?

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"You have a tell."

I absolutely do not. I despise lying and avoid it at all costs, but on the rare occasions where it's necessary, I'm excellent at it.

"If you're trying to pretend I'm lying just because you want this..." I curve a hand around her tiny waist, and she instantly arches into me. Heat from her body burns through the delicate silk to scorch my palm.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't lying," she says.

Okay, my tell is apparently to do with my eyes. I can't give her the chance to confirm she's nailed it, so I have no choice but to switch back to honesty.

"Fine," I say. "I was lying. I think we absolutely should do this."

Her eyes light up, but I don't know if it's from excitement at my statement or my confession that she was right.

"Now you're telling the truth."

Second option then. Need to get her brain back on orgasms.

I flick one strap back over her shoulder, then the other. They hang loosely at her elbows, but she decides to prolong my torture by making no moves to slip them off her arms completely.

"You first," she says. "Everything."

Anticipation sizzles in the tense air around us. My dick swells, but there's no way I'm getting naked in our kitchen. We'll never make it out of here.

"My room," I tell her.

"Mine," she counters.

"I have condoms in mine."

"So do I."

Fuck it. I didn't imagine our first time to be on a fluffy pink duvet surrounded by chaos and mess, but if that's what'll get me inside this girl, I'll comply.

"After you." I gesture across the room.

***

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***

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