The Neighbour

TWENTY-SIX

🌷Ana🌷

Freddie's hips are in direct contact with mine, swaying from side to side. The music is much more relaxed now. Gentle. Romantic. My body pulses with the love I feel for my man, all consuming as it spreads through me like wildfire. I notice every detail about him as I stare up at him, noses practically touching. The green in his eyes are slightly darker this evening, no doubt brought on by the dimmed lights in this room. He shaved this morning in preparation for today's celebration and already, his five O'Clock shadow is returning. I love that his cheeks are flushed, rosey red from all the dancing he's doing. I never would've imagined Freddie being the type to dance the night away when first meeting him, but people have a great way of surprising me. I'll be honest, everything about this man surprises me.

"Anastasia..."

I bump my nose with his. "Freddie..."

"I love you so much," he informs, momentarily closing his eyes.

I smile at him, allowing this moment to wash over me fully.

"I love you so much."

He squeezes my body closer to his, and I particularly like how solid he feels. How sturdy he is.

"I need you, baby," he shares, tone desperate.

"You have me."

"Your taste. That's what I need."

I angle my face and purposely brush my lips against his. "Take it."

He hesitates.

"Freddie..."

"I'm scared," he admits.

The pad of his thumb caresses my bottom lip, teasing in its need to explore.

"What are you scared of?" I ask.

He's moments away from answering when a commotion to my right interrupts us. A guest I don't recognise is carrying on, threatening to punch one of the catering staff.

"What's going on here?" asks Freddie.

I scour the room for Sloan, happy in the knowledge she's far away from this alteration.

"This arsehole won't give me another drink."

"Maybe that isn't such a bad idea," replies Freddie, reading through this guy and his slurred words.

He's totally trashed.

"Oh, fuck off!" he thunders, attempting to snatch a drink from the tray.

In doing so, he accidentally knocks over the tray's entire load, each glass crashing to the ground in obnoxiously loud clatters.

"I think you need to leave," suggests Freddie, stepping closer.

His attention is on the young man desperately cleaning up the mess and—because of this—he misses drunk guy's attempt to punch him. I don't think. I don't rationalise. I simply step in front of Freddie, protecting him from receiving a blow to the face. I barely register it happening. I'll be honest—if feels no different to when Josh did this. I know how to switch myself off from the pain. To numb my nerve endings. The only way I know I've ben hit in the face is the dribble of blood that spills from my split lip. Freddie's face is a picture of horror as he bears witness to this, too late in stopping it.

"Ana!"

He abandons everything to help.

"Baby."

"I'm sorry. Shit—I didn't mean to hit her. She got in the way."