Die for You

Chapter 32

I pushed my foot closer to the floor and the huge engine at the front of the Rover roared again as I eased her around the slow moving van in front of me and sped towards Becky's. All golden glows and relaxation had well and truly left me behind in the hurry to get home, grab a shower and get dressed. Four changes of my tiny wardrobe later, I was wearing the first things I'd picked up, a smart pair of designer jeans that Lauren had told me were "just perfect darling" and a top that Becky had chosen when we were in Bath. 

My contribution to the outfit was a pair of combat boots that the jeans tucked into nicely and an old-looking battered M65 jacket thrown over the top. A fucking designer battered M65 style that is; even I have standards, and when I'd saw it tucked away in the back of the store I'd called into on my way to my therapy session, I just knew I had to have it.

I'd even managed a chuckle at myself as I'd looked in the mirror on my wardrobe at the flat, with the jacket on, I looked a bit of a mess, like a proper squaddie out on the piss; but when I took the jacket off, I looked quite smart. Becky was going to have a fit but for some strange reason, I was looking forward to seeing her reactions to my two looks.

It's strange that, I've never really given a shit about things like that before; this girl does strange things to me and I kind of like it.

I knocked on the door, anxiously checking my watch. Eight thirty five and forty six seconds; even

my heroics in navigating the back streets of London at high speed hadn't saved me, I was late and that fucking sucked. I really hated being late, punctuality being something that both my mother and the army had drummed into me; being late equalled being rude in my mother's view of the world, and for all her liberal views, rudeness wasn't something she accepted from anyone.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I managed to get out as Becky finally cracked opened the door, our security checks complete. With a frown, she closed the door again and I heard the rattle of the security chain as it opened properly and she beckoned me in.

"I'm really, really sor..."

I didn't get any further with my apology as my flustered brain finally took in her appearance. She looked positively stunning; even better than she had at Rob's 'soiree' and she looked fucking amazing then. The dark blue mini dress clinging to her athletic frame just perfectly, her make up just right and the heels she was wearing made her legs look long and powerful and just... yeah.

'Fuck yeah' in fact.

Basically, it was hard not to drool.

"You look great," I managed to say, trying to drag my brain back to its normal position in my body and away from the puddled mess by my feet. She smiled at my lame attempt at a compliment and looked me up and down.

"You look, very you," she replied eventually and I grinned wryly at her.

"Glad you think so, cost me a flaming fortune this outfit."

She didn't look convinced, but it had, the jacket had set me back over three hundred quid but it was well worth it; if only for the feeling of comfort it gave me.

"I think so," I replied carefully, not really remembering the label on the inside; just remembering it was some kind of famous name, and how much it had set me back.

"I'm sure it is, I love the stitching on the back; wonderful work. Anyway, shall we go? I'm starving."

I nodded and helped her on with her coat, opening the door carefully and checking the corridor before we left. "Where are we going, Bec?" I asked her as we left the building, fumbling in my pockets for the car keys.