She shakes her head. “No, thank you, Hudson.”
I amble over to the crowded bar, slotting myself in between two giggling girls, one of who has just turned eighteen according to the silk sash draped over her shoulder.
“What can I get you, mate?” asks the flustered looking bartender, wiping his hands on a spare cloth.
“A cranberry juice and a lemonade, please.”
The bartender nods, keying my order into the touchscreen pad in front of him and reaches beneath the bar to grab two clean glasses. I tap my debit card to the small card machine, waiting for it to light up green in acceptance of payment and then snatch up our drinks.
“Thanks, mate.”
Sidestepping the pulsing crowd, I make my way back over to Giselle, placing our drinks down and then sliding into the booth beside her.
“How much do I owe you?” she asks, digging around in her handbag.
“Nothing.”
Her eyes meet mine, a half folded five-pound note clutched in her fist “Hudson—”
I shake my head vehemently. “I’m not taking your money from you, Giselle.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
With a pretty pout to her lips, Giselle tucks the note back into her purse and reaches for her cranberry juice. I want to lean forward an inch and kiss her so badly, feel those lips of hers move against mine, unhurried, while I steal a taste of her to keep.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I take a sip of my drink, the carbonated bubbles fizzing up my nose and down my throat, making my eyes water. “Like what?”
“Like… like you want to kiss me.”
I feel a knowing smile crawl across my mouth. “Maybe that’s because I do.”
Giselle stares at me, wide eyed, a pretty pink blush beginning to colour her cheeks.
I wait for that sharp tongue of hers, the one I’ve come to expect and relish in teasing, just so I can see what her comeback will be, but Giselle stays silent looking like a small deer caught in headlights.
Maybe she just needs a little push…
“Would you kiss me back?”
I catalogue the choppy inhale she takes, chest rising unsteadily, before silently and slowly, Giselle nods.
Using the palm of my hand, in guise of simply rubbing at the stubble coating my jaw, I hide the happy smile crawling across my lips. Although, I’m sure it’s fruitless. My smile feels so wide, stretching across my teeth, peeking out between my fingertips, that it’ll be impossible for Giselle not to notice.
“Good to know,” I say, dropping my hand from my jaw to graze across the bridge of her shoulders and rest one of my arms against the back of the booth.
It takes a second, but Giselle’s spine finally curves, body relaxing, leaning into the curve of my upper arm.
I take the opportunity to lean in closer, my hip pressing to the sweet curve of hers.
“What would you be doing right now if we hadn’t bumped into each at Charlie’s?”
“I’d probably be back at home, nursing a cup of chamomile and crawling into a hot bath,” Giselle answers. “What about you?”
Recently, my usual routine of hitting the gym and then frequenting a couple of bars hasn’t been cutting it. I’m restless, but in a way I can’t explain. In fact, sitting here with Giselle is the closest thing I’ve felt to being calm, head less fuzzy, body full of less adrenaline than I have at all in the past couple of weeks.
