Loving Him (Ashton Irwin a.u.)

Chapter 1

Ringing, blaring, klaxon soundings bounced from wall to wall, calling to me, screaming at me. I was scared. I feared for my life, for my health.

I forced my eyes open reluctantly and grunted at my alarm clock. 6:30 a.m. on a Monday was the worst thing ever. I hit it with a lazy arm to silence the alarm and rolled onto my back, stretching and yawning like a baby.

Running a hand over my face, I forced the covers off my bed and rolled out onto my feet before sauntering to the ensuite bathroom. I placed both hands on the ledge around the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired.

Because it's 6:30, idiot, I reminded myself.

Ugh. This was going to be a long and boring week of work.

At the time I was working as an editor for the local newspaper in my town outside Sydney. It was an evening paper, so I spent the day editing the stories before they got printed and handed out on public transport for commuters going home. I loved the job, but I hated the hours.

Eight o'clock until four o'clock. That's eight hours at a computer reading the news.

I scraped my chestnut-brown hair back into a ponytail and brushed my teeth.

I hated the taste of mint. But that's irrelevant.

And before I knew it I was walking down the road from my apartment in black skinny jeans, a white tank top and a black lace kimono to the nearest Starbucks. Same as every day.

At least it was nearly summer. Nearly time for me to take a couple of weeks off to relax over Christmas!

I pushed the door to the coffee shop open and walked gladly into the air-conditioned shop. Smells of coffee and hot chocolate and fresh pastries overwhelmed my senses. I loved the smell.

But then I was knocked out of my otherworldly daydream. A searing hot, brown/black liquid ran down my clean white top, burning my flesh underneath and ruining the top. I gasped and picked at the top, trying to pull it away from my torso so whoever just spilt fresh coffee all over me wouldn't get flashed.

"Oh, damn! I'm so sorry, ma'am... I... I didn't..."

I looked up at the tall man in front of me, who had now set down his coffee cup and was reaching for some napkins but hadn't looked away from me once.

And our eyes met. His: big and deep and green and beautiful and captivating, framed by a pair of tortoise-shell-coloured glasses.

"...see you..."

My breath hitched as he stared at me. I snapped my mouth shut and took the napkins off him. "No, that's alright. I totally understand, I mean, why would you see me?" I said sarcastically, dabbing at myself. "I'm just, like, two foot tall and right in front of you, so there's no way anyone would've seen me in time to stop themself pouring boiling hot water down me. Please, accept my apology. I'm sorry I didn't make myself more obvious."

I looked up at the man, who hadn't said anything. His eyes were darker than they seemed at first and I could tell he was holding back a smirk, albeit not very successfully.

"Is there something funny about you burning me, sir?" I asked, having had enough of his staring.

"No, no," he replied quickly, biting back his grin. "I'm so sorry. Listen, let me get you a coffee."

"So you can spill it on me again? No thank you," I snapped before turning on my heel and heading out the shop.

"Wait!" he called, as I heard his footsteps rushing to catch up with mine.