I didn’t want to be the sum of who I’d slept with. I didn’t want my name being read by thousands of people who would judge without having possession of a single fact. I wanted my life to be more than whose bed I was sleeping in.
There had only been one man I’d allowed myself to daydream about and he’d never been mine to capture in those thoughts. Gunnar had been older, more than a decade older, and worldly, but not from the world where I’d grown up. He’d been dedicated to his profession and he’d spoken with me as if I was his equal. I’d thought myself in love with him, saw a future away from rock and fame, until it was shattered by just a few words.
Since he’d kissed me in Buddhababa, thoughts of Tommy had flown through my head like swallows in the evening, coming into view like insect-seeking missiles from distant horizons. I’d spent the day by the pool, reading one of Lala’s hard case crime novels and half listening to Lawrie’s work conversations. I’d read the same page at least three times, none of the words making any sense, because my mind had replayed every second of Tommy’s kiss, the weight his hand had pressed to my body, the way he’d taken any touch that he’d wanted.
More. I wanted more of him. More of those kisses that demanded and took, knowing he could without stealing them and it would only make me kiss him back. More of those touches that set my body on fire in the best possible way. More of him.
Tommy had left the bar to sit outside with who I figured were friends of his, clustered round a table drinking beers. He’d looked over a couple of times, glances I only caught because I was so hyperaware of him, looking over far too frequently.
I looked over again now, not hiding my gaze. He was wearing a thin T-shirt, white and taut across his chest, tanned skin glowing in the sun. His hair was damp, as if he’d recently showered, and his eyes flashed dark when they looked in my direction.
I sipped at my cocktail, one that wasn’t on the menu and had arrived without me ordering it. No one else at my table had noticed, because no one was paying attention, too busy being lost in a debate about something I’d lost track of. It was a heady mixture of sour and sweet, a taste of cherries and cola, but with a bite of something sharp.
I knew Tommy had made it for me, or at least I wanted to think he’d made it for me.
“You know, you could just go speak to him.” Carl’s friend, Maggie – real name Michael – whispered in my ear. “If he bites, I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
I thought about denying it, but knew that would just draw more attention to me, and Lala’s attention as well. She was loud and happy, high on life or something extra, and I knew my sister too well to think that she’d not intervene if she thought she was matchmaking me with a lover.
“I’m sure I would.”
“I definitely would.” Maggie was bi and open about it, liking boys as much as girls. Maggie was good fun, just a genuinely nice person who I could spend any amount of time with.
I finished the cocktail, the cherry flavour hanging tart around my lips, and stood up, putting any wobble I felt down to the alcohol. The other men he was with didn’t look up from their conversation, the odd Catalan word hanging around in the motionless air.
Tommy's eyes didn’t leave me as I walked over, my skin breaking out in goosebumps from his gaze. I’d worn shorts, Daisy Dukes that were frayed and distressed, and a vest top that was loose and flowy, my bikini underneath visible if anyone cared to look down.
Eyes trailed up and down my legs, unashamedly drinking me in, and rather than feeling objectified, I felt desired. Powerful. There was control to be had through enjoying his gaze, even if I didn’t understand why.
“How was the cocktail?” He spoke first, turning his back to his friends.
“Good. What was it called?”
“It doesn’t have a name yet. Any suggestions?” His words sounded as if they were drizzled with a decadent liquor, one that you had to be brave to taste.
Or foolish.
“I might need another one to get some ideas.”
He nodded, brief and just once. “You liked it then?”
“I did. Have you finished for the day?” The conversation around him seemed to be happening on a separate plain for all the attention he was giving it. It was polite conversation, my fallback when I had no clue what to say to reel in someone’s attention.
Tommy laughed, his mouth curving into a smile and for the first time I saw his eyes glitter with something other than lust.
“I never finish.” He stood up, shifting his neck from side to side as if he needed to crack it. “Do you want another drink?”
“I can ask one of your staff.” I wasn’t enough of a princess to expect the bar’s owner to wait on me, but then, why else had I gone over?
“I’ll take care of you.” He said something in Catalan to the men at the table, who gave him a nod before carrying on with their conversation.
He watched my face, his eyes on my lips as I found myself licking them. Whether it was the idea of him taking care of me or the cocktail, I had no idea. My subconscious had its own motivations.
“You’ll take care of me?” I laughed, although it felt forced. I tried to push back the nerves that were entangled through my stomach. “How exactly?”
He didn’t say anything, just shook his head. “Let’s go. I’ll let you choose an ingredient.”
“I’m honoured.” I laughed. “I don’t know a thing about cocktails.”
