Fierce

Chapter 15

Georgiana opened her desk drawer and peeked at the crumpled note again. She had found it in the morning when she woke, laying in the exact place his head had been when she closed her eyes the night before. It was written in cramped blue scrawl on the back of a petrol receipt- but she couldn't stop reading it.

She read it again, and felt her stomach tighten.

Georgiana,

I'm sorry I was not there when you woke. (Believe me, I wanted to be.)

Last night -

it was unbelievable.

Words cannot describe.

...it was indescribable.

There.

You are so beautiful.

Just saying.

Linc

X

It had obviously been scribbled in a rush, and it was almost incoherent – but for such an articulate man that was incredibly endearing. Somehow it had found its way into her desk drawer at work –and there it would stay.

When she'd woken to find the space beside her crumpled and cold, she felt like there was a brick in her stomach; and it was horribly confusing. She felt relieved that he was gone...but uneasy somehow? There was a sort of restlessness that had followed her around for days. And that damned brick still hadn't gone away. Those little scribbled lines were her link to something she was still trying to understand; her only connection to an unsettling experience that had shaken her more than she'd like to admit.

She closed the drawer with a frown, and almost jumped out of her skin when she looked up to see Charly hovering at the door. Before she could open her mouth, Charly was sliding into the seat in front of her.

"Okay, why're you acting funny."

"Me? Oh it's really nothing, don't worry about it."

"Cut the crap babe. Just tell me."

"Tell you what?" Georgie blinked at her.

"Tell me what's got you all stroppy."

"I'm not stroppy!"

"George."

"Fine..." Georgie hesitated and looked down at her hands curled in her lap. "It's Lincoln."

"Chef boy?" Charly was surprised. Physically, he was gorgeous; but she never would have picked a man like that to be someone George would get in a tizzy over. Most of the men that captured her attention (however briefly) were slightly peacocky, and had an air of self importance. Lincoln Holt, despite his bravado, wasn't arrogant in the slightest. He had a sincerity that made him unusual. And it made Charly like him – which was definitely unusual, as most of Georgie's men she tolerated with thinly veiled dislike.

Strangely, she felt a little protective of him. He seemed so genuine; and in Charly's opinion, anyone who made a three-course meal for someone else (on request of a younger sister no less) just had to be a sweetheart.  Her loyalties would always be with George...but she couldn't deny that her best friend was a definite danger to a man like him.

"Yeah," Georgie finally replied. "Chef boy."

"What's chef boy doing?"

"I don't know..." Charly waited out the long pause until she began again. "We hung out last week, and things.... got really physical – and then I woke up...and he was gone."

"Gone?"

"Yep."

"The bastard!" Charly cried in indignation, smacking the table.

"He left a note."

"What did the note say? Was it a wham-bam-thank you-ma'am type of note?"

That was the problem: she had no idea what type of note this was. George pulled the note out of the drawer reluctantly. Part of her wanted to keep the little blue scribbles to herself, but she handed it over. She needed the advice.

Charly raised an eyebrow when she saw the note being pulled out from her desk, but thankfully she didn't say a word. But as she read the note, she visibly melted.

"Oh my god," Charly cooed. It was practically a love letter.  "This is precious! Why can't a man write me something like this?"

"Yes, but he still left didn't he?"

"True," she hummed thoughtfully. She put the note down and looked up at Georgie, "what was it like? What was he like?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh calm down George, I just wanted to know if it felt different – like, I don't know, if it was out of the ordinary... for you I mean."

She was quiet for a moment as she thought about it. "I can't say how- not exactly- but yeah, it was different somehow. But I don't want to talk about it," she finished hurriedly.

"You never want to talk about the men you sleep with. It's so boring," Charly teased.

Georgie blushed a brilliant red and ducked her head, "but I don't want to talk about this even more than I didn't want to talk about that."

"I see."

If it was possible, her face burned even hotter. It was a disturbing feeling for Georgie – but to talk about it felt invasive somehow. That night was special, and she wanted the details to be hers alone. Something private that she would share only with Lincoln.

"Have you two been in contact since?"

"No."

"How many days ago was this?"

"Two days."

"Right. You bothered?"

"No."

Charly ignored the lie. "Why don't you message him?"

Georgie scoffed. "No thank you. The way I see it, if he has the audacity to sneak off he can do the bloody messaging. Don't roll your eyes at me Charlotte!"

Charly rolled her eyes anyway. "You and your stubbornness. Give me your phone George."

"What? No!"

"I'm not going to text him idiot. I'm confiscating it so you don't check it every two seconds...just trust me." Georgie handed it over sullenly. "Good girl." Georgie flipped her off. "I'm going to bring you a choc muff, then later we can talk about whether you want to text him." Georgie paled. "I know sweetie- that's why the muffin's first. I'll be ten minutes."

Three minutes later she hurried back into the room with wide eyes and sat down in front of her friend.

Georgie looked up from the sheet of black numbers as Charly cleared her throat. "Where's my muffin bitch?" she joked.

"For the record, it wasn't me - I did absolutely nothing." Charlotte dropped the darkened phone in the middle of the table as if it was poisonous.

"Huh?"

"You got a message."

_ _ _ _

A/N:

DUN DUN DUN

What message will our semi-competent hero craft? Another semi love letter?