Niall smiles, satisfied.
“So, have a good evening. And, you,” she says, looking at me, “don’t eventhinkabout going home alone. Understood?” She leans down to plant a kiss on my cheek, then disappears quickly between the throngs of people, leaving us alone.
“Your friend is very wise.”
“I think you mean drunk. Like every Friday night.”
“What about you?”
“I’m sober as anything.”
“Then how come you let me come over?”
“Maybe I had nothing better to do.”
He nods slowly. “In that case… Let’s speed the process along.”
“You’re not coming home with me, Niall Kerry. I’m not that desperate.”
His hand flies to his chest in mock offence.
“Oh, come off it. I’m sure your ego is fine.”
“Let me buy you another drink and we can talk about it.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
“And I won’t do anything to make you change it. Promise.”
He heads towards the bar and I let myself enjoy the sight of his backside moving under his dark, skin-tight jeans.
Why do men have to age so damn well, when I can’t seem to avoid gravity’s deathly pull, no matter how many times a week I go jogging?
And why the hell am I staring at his behind? Why did I even start playing this game? Maybe we’ve switched brains by accident. Why did I let Anya leave me alone with him?
I need to find a way out of this. This isn’t like me – I don’t let myself flirt with strange men in pubs, getting hit on in exchange for a few orgasms and nothing more…
Wait.
Did I just think about orgasms?
Before I can even begin to formulate another of these alien thoughts, Niall appears at the table with another glass of that stupid pink liquid for me, and another pint for him.
“Everything okay?” he asks, studying my expression.
Here we go. This is the moment to do a complete U-turn, to tell him that it’s getting late, that I have to go home and feed my cat. To tell him that I’m not cut out for these things, for one-night-stands, for meaningless sex; for men like him. But then I look at him: his bright, mischievous eyes, his confident grin, his slightly-greying beard, his long, unkempt hair, and I realise that he wants me. He wants to stay here with me, to try it on with me, and maybe even to get me into bed. It’s something I haven’t seen for years. Something I’d forgotten I liked.
“Absolutely.”
I grab the glass and take a few gulps, trying to ward off any negative thoughts.
I don’t have to go home. I don’t have to run back and feed Caramel – and yes, I reallydohave a cat, and he can definitely survive a few more hours without me – and I don’t have to be a good girl all the time. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and it’s never got me anywhere. I live alone in a tiny apartment above a pizzeria, with only my cat and the sound of my own thoughts for company. Oh, and my broken heart.
I can let myself be drawn in by the bad boy for just one night: one night of total madness. I deserve it. I’m a free woman, and I want something to remember.
“I didn’t think that was you, at the bar, before.”
“Have I changed that much?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.
