〰 Take a redhead that uses her assets to get her way in business, a curly nanny who believes in true love, a dark-haired, drop-dead gorgeous stripper and you've got a curved t(h)reat.
Then add a nerdy personal trainer, a tall, dark and handsome bo...
What the hell did I just witness? She is like a witch with that chest of hers and I was already under her spell to begin with. I can't even think straight and her ankle is really close to my...
Fuck! I get up abruptly and she yelps, tears forming in her eyes.
Oh shit! I'm such an idiot.
I mumble an apology and turn my back to her. If she sees what her little show did to me, she'll probably lose it. I whisper a sorry again and don't know what to do with myself.
I hear her shuffle behind me and suddenly hear her voice.
"Mona, if I send you a location, could you come and get me?"
Yep, it's clear she's leaving. If she wasn't done with me before, she sure is now. And I can't even turn around and face her without making matters worse.
She probably thinks the wrong thing while glaring at my back, I can feel her stare burn into my skin. But maybe the wrong thing is better here, better than showing her the painful bulge in my jeans.
I ask her if she wants some tea and I can hear by the tone in her voice that she wants to get the hell out of here. I make two mugs of tea anyway. Just to keep my hands busy.
I think of my aunt Clara; yellow teeth, prickly chin, and beady eyes. I imagine her moving closer to hug me for my birthday with all my might, which makes my excitement go down. A sigh of relief escapes me.
I make my way over to Ama with the two mugs of tea and place one in front of her.
She glances at it and then meets my eyes, a frown between her eyebrows. "If you want me to drink it, you should put some sugar in it. Two lumps preferably."
And that's when it happens. The thing that always happens when I'm nervous or when I don't pay attention. I go on a rant about how unhealthy sugar is and that she should learn to drink it without anything added to it. That it takes some getting used to...
I slap my own forehead and mumble to myself. Fucking idiot.Just shut up.
Oh, Conan is going to have fun with this one when I tell him about it. What? You didn't know? That us guys are just like girls? Well, we are. To be really truthful we are oversharers, especially when there's booze involved.
Does your boyfriend hang out with his friends regularly? To go fishing, watch a game, or go out for drinks? Well, they are either at a strip club, talking about the one they like best and what they would do to them, or they are sharing a bottle of whisky and pouring their hearts out.
I have two best friends. One to go to the strip club with and one I pour my heart out to. And Conan is definitely not the guy to go to a strip club with. Not because he wouldn't want to. Although... I don't really know.
But he's a detective and they smell cops from miles away. There's always some illegal shit going on in a club like that and they don't like people with badges. And Conan doesn't even need a badge, when you see him, you know. If they ever need a picture of a perfect detective it would be him.
And furthermore, you can't hide shit from him. He looks at you, really observes you, and just knows. Knows everything you ever did. Sounds scary, doesn't it? Totally isn't though. He is not judgmental at all.
He only gets pissed when you put yourself or innocent people in danger. Then he will let himself be heard. Loud and clear. Like the headmaster threatening to call your parents or your dad catching you balls deep inside a girl in the back of his car.
All true stories...but I'll save those for some other time.
I see her stand up from the corner of my eye, holding herself up by leaning on the back of the chair. She grabs her handbag and straightens her back.
I look at her and she flits her eyes to mine for a second but not long enough for me to read them.
Fuck. She is going to leave and I'm never going to see her again.
She says: "My friend is coming over to pick me up. So, I will be out of your hair in a minute. I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, I'm sure you're a busy man."
She turns around and adds really softly: "Sorry you had to deal with all that is me."
That line breaks my heart and I want to grab her wrist and pull her into my chest. But I can't. It's not right. I've fucked this whole thing up and I don't want to give her the wrong idea.
I am not ready for anything but being her trainer. I haven't thought about Bridget since I saw Amalthea sit there on the sidewalk. And I really should think about Bridget. Work through my feelings and shit.
The doorbell rings and she bolts towards the door. For as far as that's possible with a swollen ankle and wearing one shoe. She opens the door and throws herself into the arms of the young woman standing on the other side.
Her milk chocolate-colored arms wrap around Amalthea's body and her black curls bounce when she speaks. "Hey, girl. I'm here. Come on, let's get you home."
She looks over Amalthea's shoulder and catches me standing a few steps further down the hallway. Her eyes roam over my body and I'm not sure if I heard it right but I think she said damn or something similar.
The door slams shut before I can say goodbye.
I bang the palm of my hand against the wall. That went well. And I was so grateful to the universe for this second chance. I'm just not good with women. Clearly!
I walk over to the front door and open it. Don't ask me why. To make sure she's gone? Or to torture myself with the memory of carrying her over here?
Suddenly something catches my eye. It's right there, halfway down the path to my front door. Like Cinderella has left the ball in a hurry.
Her black stiletto-heeled shoe.
I run over to it and pick it up, getting lost in my memories of her.
♡♡♡
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
