Freefall

Chapter 2

A.N. 22/09/2017

I was going to wait a week before posting this chapter but I was just too excited!

Don't forget to vote and comment! Enjoy :)

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Axl has the decency to look sheepish while he admits to speaking French fluently.

"I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, and that was all I could come up with on such short notice."

"I don't believe you," I say slowly, still in shock, "You're a sneaky little bugger, aren't you?"

Still looking sheepish, he says, "I know it was a bit deceitful, but I saw you walking up. You looked like a woman on a mission, gliding along the pavement like you owned it, the wind blowing your hair back."

I quirk a brow as if to say, quit the bullshit, mate. Noticing my expression, his shoulders sag dejectedly and he lowers his gaze.

"Alright, so I thought you were hot, and I wanted an excuse to talk to you. For the record, I was lost," he rushes to say when he sees my disbelief, "But I didn't expect you to continue talking to me. I am glad though," he says with a soft smile.

Unable to think of a reply, I settle for giving him a withering glare. He sounds sincere but I do not appreciate his deceitful trickery. I feel like now that he has admitted to having initially had an angle, he may still be trying to manipulate me, I'm just not sure how. Wow, I sound paranoid, not to mention crazy. I really need to lay off the late-night binges of The Hustle, an old BBC TV series about a group of con artists, and one of my all-time favourite shows. Before I can respond, the barista comes back with our drinks. I consider Axl over my latte. My gaze softens as I detect only sincerity and sheepishness in his eyes.

"Well, it was definitely very sneaky on your part," I gently scold, "but as long as you promise not to turn out to be a complete psycho-"

"I promise you that I won't," he interjects.

"Then I guess I can forgive you and we can be friends," I finish with a smile. "If nothing else, you're good to have around for my ego."

He bursts out laughing. He has a nice laugh, deep and smooth, but slightly husky at the same time. For some inexplicable reason it reminds me of a fine, well-aged Scotch. A whisky laugh, I think to myself.

"Well, in that case, I'd better stick around," he chuckles.

I flash him a smile around my mug as I take a sip of my latte. A moan escapes me as I taste the bursts of cinnamon and nutmeg on my tongue.

"You like?" Axl asks, taking a leisurely sip of his own coffee.

"It's so good," I groan happily, going straight back to the warm, rich, caffeinated goodness.

A comfortable silence settles around us as we take the time to savour our drinks. Our gazes play tag, darting over the rims of our mugs, and when our eyes meet, I smile bashfully, while he just smirks as if he knows a secret the rest of us do not. It would be completely infuriating if he weren't so damn sexy doing it.

A few minutes later, the barista makes his way over to our table, clutching a couple of menus.

"Alors, tout va bien?" he asks. So, is everything going well?

"C'est parfait, merci," I reply with a smile. It's perfect, thank you.

"Vous voulez commander autre chose? Quelque chose à manger, peut-être?" the blond barista inquires. Would you like to order anything else? Something to eat, perhaps?