He rattled off an address, which was closer to the Wiltshire chapter, and hung up on us.
What the fuck.
Caroline
IT WAS A LONG night at mum’s with V, especially after she seemed to sober up without vomiting anywhere, and became distraught instead. Ted really had broken her heart, and it made me wonder if men really were as bad as she said. I mean, until I spent more time with Harley, hadn’t I pretty much declared myself untouchable by everyone, men or otherwise? What was it about Harley that made me feel differently?
“Do you want to stay over, kiddo?” I nodded, and fetched some bedding, so I could curl up on mum’s sofa and sleep. It was too late to head back home, and I had spare clothes and things here, even if they were in the ‘small bedroom’, aka my bedroom if I needed it. It would be V’s room while she got herself sorted again, but I had a feeling she’d be desperate to get on with her life once she realised Ted didn’t deserve to derail her life’s plans.
I stared at my phone for ages after they both went to bed, wanting to message Harley, but also worrying that it was too late at night, and I might wake him.
It was almost midnight, and all I wanted was to know if he was missing me. Pathetic huh? I was missing him like we’d been together forever, when it’d been one damn night.
Harley: Hope I’m not waking you, but I wanted to say goodnight.
It was like he could feel how hard I was thinking about him, wasn’t it?
Me: Nope. Finding it hard to sleep. I’m on mum’s sofa for the night.
He probably didn’t want me messaging him for ages right now, but it felt like he’d extended a lifeline I didn’t realise I needed. It was… it felt intimate. Everything with us did now. The one thing that’d scared me for so long was the same thing I now craved. But only with him.
Harley: Are you okay there, or do you need to be rescued?
Damn. I really wanted the rescue, but only because I’d get to see him.
Me: It’s probably best if you don’t although I’d love that. Mum wants to meet you. I’m sorry. That’s weird, right?
I imagined him staring at his phone and groaning at the thought of meeting my mother, the whole meet-the-parents thing that normal people did. Was Harley normal in that respect? Was he willing, or would he make excuses? Which did I want him to do?
Harley: I’m sure that can be arranged. Do I need to dress up nice, or does she know I’m a slobby biker guy?
Slobby? Harley? Never. He never looked slobby. He wore those jeans like… well, like a second skin, and when he wore his biker waistcoat, or cut, as I’d learned they were called, he looked incredibly sexy.
Me: She knows who you are, Harley. I’d rather you dress however you’re comfortable, but…
I sent it by accident and he replied instantly, like I’d been edging him for the rest of my sentence.
Harley: But?
Me: I think you look sexy in your biker clothes.
Oh my god. I sent that. I really just sent it! He’d think I was some sex starved predator! Or was I? Was that what was going on here?
Me: I’m sorry, my fingers slipped
Dammit! I just sent that in a panic, because I was trying to send it before he could reply, and I hadn’t even finished my sentence!
His little dots had stopped dancing, and then they started afresh. Oh god, what must he think of me?
Harley: Kinda wondering how your fingers just slipped and… uh… where you were slipping them…
I stared at his message for far too long, blinking rapidly as I suddenly grasped his meaning. Oh my god! He thought I was touching myself! He thought… he thought I was doing that while we were chatting.
Me: Oh my god!
Me: I’d never do that.
Me: I’m sorry.
