Liar

8

"I'm opening this in front of you so you can see I'm not trying to drug you again." I rolled my eyes. He literally already had me in his house. There would be no need for him to drug me to have his way and yet he still hadn't taken it a step too far. My eyes flicked down to the bottle, watching him opening it on the coffee table, bucket of ice he'd made up now sitting in the middle.

You could tell this place was a bachelor pad. It was beautifully decorated but there was no personalised touches. Like a show home where everything had its very specific places. Nothing seemed out of place from the perfectly laid out magazines, to the way the books lined his shelves. I'd noted some of the titles none of them being something I'd recognise. Artists and famous musicians. One seemed to have something about composure underneath it. I knew music don't get me wrong. I played the piano and as the topic of one of the courses I did, I needed to know famous composure pieces if I was going to teach it. But for some reason, they seemed a little out of place. From what I'd seen of the place so far, there wasn't anything else on this floor relating to music other than those books. It was a little weird.

"Train boy has fancy champagne on standby? Or did you make your roommate run and buy that?" He chuckled, handing me a glass before pouring his own and sitting down into the sofa beside me. Music he'd put on in the background filling the awkward silence.

"I always keep champagne in the fridge, you never know when you'll need to celebrate something."

"Like losing your job because you were talking to a girl in a coffee shop?"

"Or finally getting the girl from the coffee shop to spend more than 15 minutes with me on a train. Yeah." I laughed quietly at him, looking back out at the rest of the room. I don't think I'd ever been to a guy's house and seen anything other than the bedroom and bathroom or rooms as we passed to get there. Ace had brought me home, given me a tour of the lower floor, put the music on and told me to sit down. The bottle of Dom Perignon in his hand as he carefully put down the glasses and the ice bucket and then opened the bottle whilst I sat staring at him.

He looked good so effortlessly. He didn't try too hard to look good or act like someone he wasn't and that was teetering on dangerous for me. I liked a man who was confident and he definitely had that. The problem was it wasn't an in-your-face confidence. I knew next to nothing about this guy other than he clearly had expensive taste in champagne and knew how to dress up when he needed to. It's probably a good idea he'd been wearing that hoodie the last 2 times we met because if he looked like that, I would have 100% skipped work and dragged him into the toilets at a random station.

"How tall are you?" When I turned my head back to him, his arm was along the back of the sofa, facing me with one leg up, glass in his other hand resting on his huge thigh. I raised an eyebrow. "I've only ever seen you in heels. They look super uncomfortable."

"Honestly, they are. You kind of just get used to it though." I looked down at the black strappy heels I'd been wearing since 7am. My feet were numb now. Eventually I knew the nerves in my feet would just die from wearing heels too much and I'd never have to deal with the pain. Today was not that day. His lips pulled up a little, moving in his spot and sliding the glass onto the table. In one movement, he grabbed my ankles, pulling them up into his lap and turning my body as he did. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know why you wear shoes that are uncomfortable. How long have you had these on?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes. I would. Did you work today? Were you wearing heels?"

"I've had these on since 7am."

"Willow, it's nearly midnight."