Sparring Partners [18+]

Chapter Thirteen: Don't Be A Coward

"You didn't bring a jacket?" Markus dipped his head, his lips too close to my ear. A shiver wracked through me, both from the temperature outside of the restaurant and the unexpected heat of his breath against the side of my face.

It was far too late to only just be leaving the restaurant, much later than I had planned to be out tonight. They'd stopped serving food two hours ago, but the bar remained open until 11.30pm. We had stayed right until closing, and I would have felt bad if it weren't for the ridiculous tip the guys had left the staff.

Outside the restaurant, the street was dark and quiet, with only the warm glow of street lights to illuminate things. Perhaps it could have been considered romantic, walking side by side with an attractive man after an evening of good food and more than enough drinks. If I wasn't so on edge.

Markus had said little else to me, or anyone at the table, for the whole evening. Only saying the odd word here or there to remind us of his presence. As if I could forget.

He didn't touch me - despite how much I wanted to touch him - and beyond the drink and food he had ordered for me and the fact that I had been plastered to his side all evening, there had been little interaction between us at all.

I didn't know what he was thinking, or if he was still mad at me. And I was too cowardly to ask. Especially in front of his friends. I couldn't bear to risk being snapped at in front of everyone or to have him walk away from me in frustration again. I knew the decline of our last conversation was entirely my fault - he had simply tried to talk to me and I'd been purposefully difficult. If only I had simply told him I was uncomfortable with the conversation, rather than try to avoid it in the way I had.

Teeth chattering, I said, "I left it at the gym, along with my bag. I forgot how cold it gets now. And, well, I was going to call a taxi after my date, but I forgot." And now I might as well walk home instead of waiting twenty minutes out in the cold for a taxi.

What kind of idiot wears a dress this revealing without a jacket at this time of night?

Markus made a strange noise in the back of his throat.

Before I could object, his black hoodie was being shoved over the top of my head. Instantly, the warmth of his body heat, seeping from the soft fabric, enveloped me. His scent drenched the hoodie, clean and masculine. It smelled just like the aftershave he had been wearing when we first met, and the familiarity had my stomach clenching.

My arms slipped through the sleeves, and I had to twist the thick black material until it sat correctly, the hood hanging low over half my face. I shoved it back, hands smoothing out my blonde hair. Seconds later, Lynch was beside me, shoving the hood back up again.

"Dickhead," Markus grumbled to his friend, gripping his hood and yanking it back away from my face once again.

"Looking snug, Daisy." Lynch smirked, nudging his shoulder with mine before he walked ahead to catch up with Alec at the front of our little group. I said nothing, ignoring the heat in my cheeks as I ducked my face down into the hoodie, burying my hands in the pocket at the front.

"Holy moly, that's hot," Sam - who was most definitely drunk - gushed as he came up beside us. He dragged Andres behind him by the hand, staring at my thigh tattoo - the thick, detailed black snake that completely wrapped around my leg - with wide, glassy eyes.

I laughed in surprise more than anything else. "Thanks?"

"No, seriously!" Sam enthused, waving his a hand up and down in front of me. "Look at that ink! That's so freaking hot!"

"You never say mine is hot," Andres grumbled, pouting jokingly at the shorter, red-haired man.

"You have one shitty tattoo of a frog playing the banjo on your arse. That's not hot," Sam told him bluntly. "But these two-" He gestured to Markus and I. "They're hot."