Fragmented ✔️

11. Hands off

Sat in the back of my father's car, I had a severe case of déjà vu. Zaire stood outside The Basement, clipboard in hand, just like he had done weeks ago.

Unlike last time, my need to run and hide hadn't taken over.

My stomach bubbled with a mixture of nerves and excitement. I had spent far too long getting ready and even borrowed a pair of vintage knee-high boots off my mum. Hopefully, they would shield my legs from the bitter night air because my dress wouldn't.

After kissing my dad goodbye on the cheek, I walked the short distance to my best friend. The cool satin fabric of my slip dress skimmed midway up my thighs, riding up with each step.

Before reaching Zaire, I discreetly checked that the daisy-shaped patches on my nipples hadn't slipped down. What was going through my mind when I picked a dress that wouldn't require a bra and was so short? My night would consist of tugging the hem down and fixing possible nipple mishaps.

Zaire's eyes widened as I approached, and he held his arms out to pull me into a firm hug. "Matt said you might pop by but I didn't believe him. Why didn't you call?"

"Wanted to surprise you instead." I hugged him back, keeping my face full of make-up off his clean black shirt.

"Let me get a look at you. I swear I saw a flash of colour under that coat. Are my eyes playing tricks on me?" Spinning me around, he blew out a low whistle. "Fuck me, Bea! You are looking fine as. And red?" He bit his bottom lip. "Oh, Matt has no idea what he is in for. Poor lad won't be able to think straight."

"Stop." My face heated at his words, but inside I lit up with thrill. "Do you think?"

"Think? I'm certain of it."

Zaire called one of his colleagues on his two-way radio and asked if they would cover the entrance while he worked inside.

When the door to the stairwell closed beside us, blocking the outside, I grabbed onto Zaire's bicep to hold him back.

"Before we head in, can we talk?" A group of girls followed in behind and went directly down to the Speakeasy, their heels clicking on each step.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I've just been wondering." I lowered my voice. "Am I a right bitch to Matt? I keep telling him we will only be friends but just then when you said he won't think straight, I loved it. Is that horrible?"

"Stop being so hard on yourself. The Bea I know wouldn't have even thought twice about it. Matt's a big boy. You are allowed to set your boundaries and enjoy his attention at the same time. Come on. We are getting you drunk tonight."

"Maybe you're right." I removed my thin coat, folded it over my forearms and headed for the heavy double doors.

Zaire yanked the black fabric out of my grip. "I'll stash this in the staff room. Saves you forgetting it in the cloakroom."

When we made our way inside, I hardly gave the place a second glance. My eyes were already searching for Matt. The drumming of my heart fought to overpower the bass from the song playing.

Sidestepping behind a group standing around a whiskey barrel table, I allowed myself a few minutes to calm my nerves and enjoy the sight of Matt working.

I wouldn't get used to him. Matt Quinn was desire personified. I saw it on the faces of the women crowding the bar. They mentally ate him up and flirted when it was their turn to be served. He flirted back, but I wasn't jealous. It was part of the job and even if it wasn't I had no right to harbour those feelings. After all, I had set the rules around our friendship and jealousy couldn't be part of it.