Princess °° Freddie Highmore [dd/lg]

chapter six:

-- C H A P T E R
S I X --

"I thought you didn't have alcohol?" I ask after I swallowed the bitter liquor down my throat.

Freddie chuckles. "And what makes you say tha'?" He grabs a cigarette and lights its end with a match.

"Well, at some point before I left," I began, holding my glass in hand; internally becoming disgusted by the stench of the whiskey it contained. "you gave me money to help you get rid of the temptation of buying alcohol and getting a prostitute involved."

Freddie just chuckled. "That doesn't mean I didn't have a bottle in here, Ms. Helgard." He takes a swig now, and as his head is tilted back, drink in hand, he looks absolutely gorgeous. When he swallows the drink, he pulls back his bottom lip and licks it, making it moist and plump after it surfaces. I melt at the sight.

I really want to kiss him...

"I always have a bottle in my office," he continues. "I mostly drink it when someone from another company waltzes in here. It takes the edge off."

It takes a bit for me to register that Freddie's job was pretty hectic, and maybe that was why he chose one of the strongest liquors as his poison for removing that uneasy feeling coursing through his veins. I watch as he carelessly pours another class for himself, and as he takes it to his perfect lips, his eyes narrow at me.

"Why aren't ye drinking, Ms. Helgard?" he slurs.

I look down at my drink, crinkling my nose in disgust at the smell of it.  "I don't drink, sir," I reply earnestly. "I can't stand the smell or the taste of it." I look down at my feet. "I'm sorry."

"No problem," Freddie states abruptly. "I know just the trick to make it easier for you." He grabs my glass and staggers upward and stumbles to the nearby mini fridge located on the opposite end of the room closest to the entrance to his office.

"But, Mr. Highmore, I --"

"-- Nonsense, Amanda," he replies curtly, cutting me off. The one thing I've gathered since meeting him a day ago is that he rarely uses my first name. It startles me because I feel like I'm in trouble for some reason. "You have to live a little." He pours a little bit of Vanilla Coke in my drink.

"Why do you want me to drink with you, sir?" I ask him as soon as he returns with my drink. I've pondered this for awhile, and it amazed me how it took me this long to finally obtain the courage to ask.

Freddie sits down. Or rather, he plops down on his seat opposite from me. His eyes are fixated on the ceiling, and then they return to me. With a small smile erupting on his lips, I can see a tear starting to trickle down his face.

"When you're lonely, you tend to do desperate things." He slurs. He takes a swig from his drink and then leans forward.

He picks up my chin using his index and middle finger. I can smell the nicotine, booze and cologne on him, and before I could even speak, I became frozen. His blue eyes were hypnotizing me; causing me to stand still.

"And in this case Ms. Helgard," he continues, leaning in closer. "you're my desperate thing."

Before I could protest, or even respond, his lips -- those plump lips I secretly wanted to kiss -- landed on mine.

And with that, I became numb.

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