“Giselle—”
Her eyes flick back to mine, the thumb in her lap twisting, twisting, twisting the plain gold band sitting on her middle finger.
Giselle’s next words are so low and quiet that I’m forced to dip my head and close my eyes in an attempt to dull my other senses and hear her better.
“What did you say, Gee?”
“And if I’m not ready…” she repeats. “Then what?”
I pull back to peer into her face.
“I can wait. Simple.”
Still, Giselle doesn’t look too sure. “And all the other girls in your contact list?”
“What about them?”
“Wouldn’t you rather sleep with one of them?” she questions. “Why—”
“I like you, Giselle. I’m attracted toyou. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”
It’s in that split second that Giselle’s entire face changes.
“I-I can’t do this,” she chokes, fingers fumbling with her phone and handbag. “Excuse me.”
Wait.
What the fuck?
What is happening?
“Giselle?”
“Excuse me,” she repeats, standing as best as she can in the cramped booth, waiting for me to let her out.
Moving on autopilot, I stand to my full height, and step out of the booth. Giselle’s tight body glides past mine as she grips the strap of her handbag threaded over her shoulder and bows her head, her focus on the carpeted floor of the pub rather than looking me in the eye.
I want to reach out to her, to stop her from moving away from me. I want to ask her what the hell is going on, make her tell me what I said that was so wrong, but she’s already walking towards the pub doors as fast as her feet will carry her.
“Giselle,” I try again, confused as hell, reaching for her hand. One minute we we’re fine – better than fine! Flirting and touching and—
The next, she’s almost running away from me and into the freezing evening beyond. I don’t want to let her go, it’s not safe. I don’t even know whereabouts her apartment is, how long it’ll take her to get home, will she get a black cab? Walk? Catch one of the late running buses?
The idea of Giselle standing at a bus stop, in the dark, nothing but the golden coloured light pouring from the streetlamps to light her path, to show the unfamiliar faces ofpeople passing by turns my stomach unpleasantly. But what can I do? I can’t tell her not too; she won’t fucking listen to me.
“Please, Hudson,” she throws over her shoulder, shaking me off as I fall in step, just a hairsbreadth behind her. “Don’t—don’t follow me.”
Chapter 10
Giselle
Hightailing it away from Hudson, I flag down the first taxi I can find, taking a quick picture of the driver’s ID and car license plate to send to Rosie.
I fire off a pin showcasing my location too, my thumbs bouncing about the screen while I stare at the greyed-out dot beside her contact name. She isn’t even online.
I peer out the back window while I wait for her reply, staring out at the depths of London.
Even at night the city is still alive and pulsing, like a heartbeat.
