Chapter 11
“You look beautiful” Cheryl’s smiling at me the second I open the door. The bright lights from the kitchen behind me illuminate her in a pool of molten gold. And she looks stunning, breathtakingly beautiful. Her tight black dress clings to every curve of her body and scoops down her back, revealing several inches of perfectly tanned skin and minutely toned muscle. Studs punched into the ebony fabric around the neckline catch the light as she moves. Her dark hair is loose, curling down her back bare back in glossy dark waves, gleaming as though they’re braided with gold in the light. Her dark eyes are lined with impossibly dark lashes, and her makeup is already smudged slightly. Sexy, hot. On her feet she’s wearing gold heels, and the muscles of her thighs are so perfectly toned. There can be no doubt, Ashley is the luckiest man in Newcastle.
“Me?” I laugh at her, and turn to lock the door quickly behind us. Cheryl’s eyes are on my skin, I’m sure of it.
“Yeah, you look perfect” I can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s smiling, and turn to look at her, flicking my hair over my shoulders. Her eyes flit from my dark pink heels to my silver-ish dress, dark grey lace stretched over metallic fabric with three-quarter-length sleeves and a plunging neckline.
“Cheers” I murmur “you look cute too”
She wrinkles up her nose disbelievingly and holds my hand as she leads me towards the lift, our heels clattering on the concrete. I can see my breath smoking in the thick night air, and from the bars down by the river I can already hear the insanely loud bass-line of Rihanna’s “We Found Love” pumping through the night air.
“I like this song” Cheryl breathes, and she hums it softly, her breath condensing quickly right in front of her face. She presses the button for the lift, and despite the half-light, I can’t help but notice the bruises that still burn bright on her skin. I want to make them better.
The lift slides up. Me and Cheryl get in. One of the lights is broken so half the lift is plunged into silky darkness. Intimate. The mechanism of the lift grinds horribly as Cheryl presses the button for the ground floor. I’m glad we’re alone. She stands so close to me I can feel her breath on my skin, and I can smell her perfume. Like cold, burning cold fire. Hot like ice. Half of her face is cast into deep shadow, but I can tell that her eyes are unfocused, and she’s staring blankly at a small piece of graffiti on the opposite wall. I wonder what she’s thinking about. I wonder if she’s thought about me as much as I’ve thought about her. But she hasn’t. Of cause she hasn’t.
“What’re you thinking about Cheryl?” I breathe. She blinks.
“About how much I hate the dark. Look-” she nods to where the golden light blends seamlessly into the inky shadows of the corners. “You never know what’s there. Anything could be there, hiding. Doesn’t it scare you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” I murmur in reply.
And the lift clangs to a halt. The doors slide open. Together, we step out into the night. The sky is velvety and dark. As clear as the morning was cloudy. A few drops of stars splash through the darkness of the sky, and the moon bathes us in a silvery glow. Cheryl looks like something beautiful from some other world. Too good for this planet full of pain.
“That’s his car” Cheryl nods towards a crumbly car, and drops my hand instantly as though my skin burnt her. We hurry across the wet tarmac, our heels clicking, and as we approach the car the effortlessly good looking boy lounging in the driver’s seat clicks on his headlights. In an instant, myself and Cheryl are covered in ivory white. Cheryl grins at me happily, before opening the passenger door and slipping into the car. I pull open the back door, and carefully squeeze into the car.
