“What breed is he? I meant to ask last time, but…well, we had bigger things to discuss.”
“Oh, we’re not a hundred percent sure because he’s a rescue, but the vet’s best guess is some sort of Labrador-Greyhound mix. Apparently known as a Greyador, which is a ridiculous but adorable portmanteau.”
“Well, I never would have thought to put those two breeds together! But I can kind of see it, now you’ve said.”
Stepping through the door, the first thing I notice is the sweet, floral scent, and I spy a reed diffuser on the hallway table that says ‘jasmine’ on the label. It smells just like Shari’s perfume and may be my new addiction.
I take off my shoes, set my bag on the floor next to them, and take a look around. Emotions were running too high for me to take much notice of Shari's house when I was here last week.
The floor is a dark walnut throughout the whole of the ground floor from what I can see, and the walls are painted a soft grey. A pale beige L-shaped sofa and two armchairs are arranged around a glass-topped coffee table in front of the TV, and a large grey rug to match the walls defines the whole living space.
On the right-hand side of the room is a stunning live-edge dining table with black resin running through the middle, and four chairs in a similar colour to the sofa are placed on either side. The walls continue in the same pale grey colour, since it's really all one room, but the main wall behind the dining set is a mishmash of natural grey and beige stone in varying shapes and sizes with black mortar running between them.
She notices me gaping. “I love this wall so much. It was probably one of the biggest selling points for the house, to be honest. I just love how organic the pattern is, but I painted the mortar black myself to really set it off. I think it looks great, anyways.”It really does.
The kitchen sits off in a room past the dining area, and from the glimpse I can see through the door, the units are a rich royal blue with white marble worktops.
The whole house has a welcoming and homely feel to it, but with beautifully elegant details. A bit like the woman who owns it.
We stare at each other for a while before she blinks and I have the strongest urge to shoutI win!I manage to keep it inside though because I'm a grown-up like that.
“Shall I show you to your room? You don't have to hang out with me, you're welcome to hide away or take a shower, or if you want to watch TV uninterrupted, I can go and hide in my room with a book. Have you eaten yet? Are you hungry? I can make you something, or we could order in if you want. What kind of food?—”
“Shari. Breathe. I haven't eaten, but I don't want you to worry about cooking. We can just order something if you're hungry, too. If not, I can just have beans on toast or whatever you have in your cupboards. And I don't want to hide away from you. The whole point of me being here is that I want to know you, and I can't do that if we're in different rooms.”
She blows out a slow breath and wipes her hands on her pyjamas. How am I only just noticing her outfit now? I must have been distracted because,damn. She's wearing adorable soft pink shorts and a matching baggy t-shirt, and she looks cute as a button. Her hair is in a messy bun on her head, her face is makeup-free, and those tan legs seem to go on for miles. My gaze snags on her chest for a moment because fuck...she's notwearing a bra and her nipples are trying to greet me.Hey ladies, I missed you too.
I drag my eyes back up to her face and clear my throat. “It would be great if I can dump my bag in the room and get changed, then we can order some food and just hang. Is that ok?”
A couple hours later, we've finished our Chinese takeaway and we're playing a version of twenty questions. Except it's been more like two-hundred questions, especially for Shari. She has such a natural curiosity for everything, and her near-interrogation actually makes me feel cherished and seen, weirdly.
But as the night has progressed, I've gotten more and more in my own head, and my nerves about our first scan in a few weeks and everything that comes afterwards are starting to fray.
“Brad. Braaad.Bradley.” I guess she's been calling my name for a while and I zoned out. Bugger.
“My name isn’t short for Bradley.”
“Are you sure? That sounds like the kind of thing a Bradley would say.”
“I’m sure,” I say, with the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“Brandon, then.”
“Wouldn’t that be Bran or Brand?”
“Oh shit, yeah. Ok…Bradathan?”
There is an undeniable grin on my face now. “No, not Bradathan. Which cannot possibly be a real name.”
“No? Are you positive? People be weird, Bradiel. People be weird.”
This pulls a full laugh from me. “I like your weird, Blaze.”
“I like your weird too, Conbrad,” she says with a blinding smile, a shallow dimple just peeking in her right cheek.
We stare at each other for a tense moment of silence, my heart rate kicking up in time with Shari's breathing. She's sitting sideways on the sofa with her legs tucked against her, and it would be so easy for me to reach out and pull one of those long legs across my lap so I can stroke her soft skin. I want to touch her. I want tokissher. And her body language seems to suggest that she wants to kiss me back.
I lean in slowly so she doesn’t startle, and can pull away any time if she isn’t into it. But my god, I hope she doesn’t. The relief is palpable when my lips touch hers, softly at first. Just little nips of each lip, from left to right and back again. Testing the waters.
