‘Take care, bro.’ Could this be the start of a change in our relationship?
‘One more thing,’ Brian calls over the background noise. ‘Don’t break her heart after this. That would be the pits. Even for you.’
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brian. He’s right, though. Can I trust myself not to break her heart?
I head to the hardware store to pick up the perfect excuse to arrive on her doorstep. I have no shame. The part is basic, easy enough to locate. I contemplate stopping at the florist along the way but opt for a bottle of wine instead. I’ve always associated flowers with a poor excuse for an apology. I’m certainly not apologising for what happened yesterday.
As I enter her estate, a ripple of nerves whip through. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if that kiss repulsed her? No. I flick up the photo from the paper that I saved on my phone. She definitely isn’t repulsed by me. Maybe by my reputation, but not by me.
I let the engine idle for longer than necessary, announcing my arrival. For an awful second, I consider the possibility that she might have company. Oh God, what if it’s another man?
I’m being ridiculous now. She doesn’t date. She’s not likely to have started since yesterday afternoon. I straighten my T-shirt, hop out of the Jeep and rap the door with my knuckles. This shit is so much harder when you actually care. I’m not used to feeling vulnerable, and I don’t like it.
It’s the longest thirty seconds of my life before she opens the door in a pair of yoga pants and a slim-fitting black vest. Neat stylish glasses frame her make-up free face. She looked sensational in that red dress, but this natural look is a million times sexier.
‘Callum.’ She’s not entirely surprised, though a little wary.
I brandish the plastic part for her sink. The modern-day equivalent of ‘I carried a watermelon’.
She steps back, an unspoken invitation inside, and the door clicks promisingly behind me, alone at last. I intend to make the most of it.
She flicks on the kettle. I hand her the bottle of wine and head straight for the leaky sink.
‘Opening this would be a bad idea,’ she states aloud, as though she’s trying to blame the drink for yesterday.
‘Don’t trust yourself, huh?’ I don’t mean to sound like such a smug twat. The words roll off my tongue.
‘Get over yourself, big head. I’ve got yoga this evening, probably best if I do it sober.’
‘I’ll give you a workout instead if you like?’ There I go again. I can’t help it. If I want her to start taking me seriously, I’m going to have to start behaving a little more seriously.
‘In your dreams, man-whore.’ There it is, like a punch to the gut. I can’t blame her.
‘Ouch. Sorry. I get nervous when I’m around you. Stupid corny stuff comes out.’ I’m so accustomed to deliberately keeping things light, I don’t know how to be serious with a woman.
‘Nervous? You?’ she scoffs.
‘Stranger things have happened.’ I work quietly for a few minutes, trying to think of a way to convey my sincerity. She places a mug of tea on the worktop next to the sink alongside a Crunchie.
‘How did you know Crunchies are my favourite?’
‘Coincidence. Don’t think by liking the same chocolate, we have anything in common. Cut the bullshit, Callum, please. We both know what we signed up for.’ She leans against the kitchen counter next to where I kneel, her shapely legs extend forever. No matter how enticing the outer package is, it’s the inside that’s the real draw. That ‘don’t fuck with me attitude’ is something I’ve never encountered from a woman. It’s sublimely sexy.
‘I know what I signed up for, and I want to renegotiate.’ I glance up at her.
‘Callum, it’s never going to happen—’
‘Let me finish.’ I stand to meet her eyeline, but she sidesteps away from me. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Abby. I had hoped for some extracurricular activities in the beginning, but now that I’ve got to know you better, I want something different, something more.’
‘Ha. You are absolutely hilarious, Callum. If I was foolish enough to succumb to you, I’d never hear from you again.’
I sidestep in front of her, an inch away from her face. Her arousal emanates from her in waves. She swallows hard, intense eyes burning with desire. I begin to close the distance, gently not to startle her. My lips are millimetres away from hers. I can smell the sweetness of the chocolate on her breath. She doesn’t push me away. I make the final movement forward and close the gap.
‘Helllooooo…’ a voice calls from the hallway.
Abby pushes me forcefully away, breaking the spell, just as an older woman strolls into the kitchen carrying an enormous package.
‘I took these in for you yesterday, Abby. There are another two at the front door,’ the woman announces, looking back and forth between the two of us in open curiosity.
‘Thank you so much, Mrs Boyle. Callum will carry the rest in. He was just leaving anyway. Weren’t you, Callum?’ She eyeballs me pointedly. Without even taking a mouthful of my tea, I’ve already outstayed my welcome. Before I can protest, Abby pulls out a fresh cup for her neighbour and instigates small talk about the weather.
I release a frustrated sigh as I carry Abby’s parcels from the door into the hallway.
‘Thanks, Callum, for fixing my sink.’ Her thanks are sincere, yet she still refuses to meet my eye, ushering me out the door.
‘I’ll see you Monday,’ I tell her meaningfully.
She leaves me no choice. If she won’t listen to me, I’ll make her hear me one way or another. Even if it means telling the entire country. My mind is made up. I have to have her. I have a feeling that kiss was just the start of us, and I’m going to make her see it.
