“I THINK I’M READY,” I say to Bruce as I walk out of my en suite bathroom. My jittery nerves could pipe down any time now. I smooth down my black cotton dress that’s smart and hopefully good enough for what Hayden and I are about to go do. After the family flick night drama, our reconnection the last few days has been pretty mind-blowing. It’s a new level of intimacy that causes me to daydream about him all day at work. The only thing that’s bothered me is his continual insistence on stepping outside at 11:11 every night. I’ve given him his space to do so, but I have something planned for tomorrow that I hope he’ll be open-minded about and not take offence to. But I’m too scared to tell him what it is quite yet.
As I walk out of my bedroom, I find Hayden stretched out on the sofa in my dark living room, staring up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. He looks like a damn model lying on a beach, except for the clothes part. Thankfully, I have a very good memory of what he looks like naked, so my imagination can fill in the blanks.
“You ready?” I ask as Sleeping at Last’s cover song “500 Miles” swells in the overhead sound system.
He turns his head toward me, and the look in his eyes makes me stumble. The grey irises swirling around his pupils heat with a longing that causes my smile to fall. The city lights streaming in the windows reveal a tenderness in his expression that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. He stands up slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised by the trembling in my voice.
“Dance with me,” he says, moving closer to me with his hand outstretched.
“What? Here?” I look around stupidly like there are people here to feel embarrassed by.
He nods. “Right here. Right now. I want a living room dance, Bunny.”
A fleeting look of sadness streaks across his face, but it’s replaced by a half-smile before I can be sure I even saw it. I swallow nervously as he twines his fingers through mine. His other hand slides gently around my waist, stopping at the small of my back. I place my free hand on his shoulder and he pulls me against him so our bodies are flush with each other.
With the perfect measured strum of the acoustic guitar riff in the song, he begins moving us in a slow, gentle dance. We are barely rotating, but we’re swaying just enough to swirl the emotion of the music straight into my heart. The familiar scent of sawdust and Hayden invades my nostrils. I tuck my face into his chest, relishing in his entire aura that feels custom-created just for me. The song fills the room and our souls, touching us in every crease and crevice hidden to the rest of the world. In this moment, we are one.
After a few more sways, he crouches over enough to press his cheek to mine. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. His voice catches just as he tucks our clasped hands between our chests.
My eyes prick with tears from the blatant display of vulnerability in his voice. “You, too,” I reply because I am too electrified by him to think of anything more original. We’re shrouded in our own little cocoon of affection, and everything he says and does is unexpected in the most magical way.
“You are a dream, Vi.” He nuzzles into my ear, inhaling deeply as he smells my hair and the spot just below my ear. He drops a soft kiss right there and says, “Every part of you feels like a dream.”
I suck in a shaky breath, remaining silent as he continues to move us in calming sways. I swear I can feel his chest shuddering beneath mine, but I’m frozen in silence, my voice refusing to speak. I have no words because this moment isn’t meant for filling with obligatory exchanged words. This moment is for listening and accepting whatever grey storm he’s got brewing in his stunning, cloudy eyes. He needs me right now, and it makes my heart split down the centre completely. I pray to God that Hayden Clarke will be the man to give me his other half. Two halves, making one whole.
When the song ends, his hands are in my hair and his lips are pressed to mine, soft and sweet, passionate and meaningful. His demanding tongue caresses my own as his fingers rub along the back of my neck. Just when I think my legs are going to give out, he pulls away. My eyes flutter open with slow blinks. I feel lightheaded and dizzy as he rests his forehead against mine and says, “I’m ready.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re standing in front of Welly’s Pub. I’m grateful for the quick walk over because I needed the fresh air to gain some of my senses back. Hayden’s expression is pensive. His introspective mood from earlier is somewhat lifted, but there’s still something happening beyond his eyes that puzzles me.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I ask, glancing over at Hayden nervously.
“I’m not afraid of your brothers, Vi.” He furrows his brows and pins me with a sobering look. “I’m afraid of you.”
My face falls. “Hayden—” I start, but he pulls me through the door before I can finish.
A familiar voice calls out, ripping my attention from my Hayden bubble.
“Vi!” Tanner jogs over with a pint in hand. He tosses his head back to flick his shaggy blonde locks out of his eyes. He passes his pint off to an unsuspecting Hayden so he can yank me into his arms for a brotherly hug. “Who’s this wanker?” he asks, laughing and snatching the pint back from Hayden.
“Just kidding, mate. This one’s yours.” He tries to pass it back.
I roll my eyes. “Hayden doesn’t drink, Tanner. I told you.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. Vi hardly drinks either. One pint and she’s pissed. I don’t know what’s with people like you.”
I reach out to give him a shove and he dodges me easily. Hayden laughs good-naturedly, but I’m cringing inside.
“Hey, Booker!” I exclaim and smile sheepishly as he walks over. I swear his tall, muscular frame seems to grow every time I see him. “This is Hayden.”
Booker shakes Hayden’s hand, his eyes narrow as he scans him up and down. He looks downright impolite, which shocks me. This whole brotherly meet-and-greet was his idea. His demand, really. I had made the mistake of telling Booker that I was seeing Hayden, and he sussed it out that Hayden was the same guy I’d told him called me a “blonde distraction.” He said the only way he could be convinced Hayden isn’t a prat was to meet him. And there’s no such thing as one Harris Brother. One goes, they all go.
Hayden and I make our way over to the booth where Camden and Gareth are seated, while Booker heads to the bar for more drinks. Gareth is properly moody toward Hayden, which doesn’t surprise me. I’d warned Hayden about that. Camden is indifferent, and Tanner is Tanner. Nothing fazes him. Booker rejoins us and passes a beer to me and a water to Hayden.
“Tell us how you two lovebirds met,” Tanner sings in a high-pitched feminine voice.
Camden picks up where he left off with a flick of his wrists and a happy clap. “Yes, and don’t leave out a single scrumpet of detail!”
Hayden laughs and looks to me for an answer.
“Well—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Her dog attacked me.” The pleased grin on his face as he eyes me with contempt makes me giggle.
“That a boy, Bruce,” Gareth mumbles and takes a drink.
“Bruce didn’t attack him…More like his lead attacked you,” I add, shoving Hayden in the side playfully. “We were going to a pub opening and sort of smacked into each other. The pub owners are friends with my coworker, Leslie. You guys know Leslie.”
“Leslie is marrying my brother,” Hayden adds helpfully, and I briefly realise the wedding is next weekend and we haven’t discussed whether or not we’re going together.
“Sounds like destiny,” Tanner sighs dramatically and flutters his lashes. We all laugh. Tanner’s always the clown.
“And just like that, smooth sailing love story,” Booker states with an edge to his voice. “So, Hayden. What do you do? Like, for a living?”
Hayden’s brows lift and a small smile plays on the corners of his mouth at Booker’s blatant challenge. Built-wise, Booker is maybe a touch larger than Hayden, but they are very nearly evenly matched.
“I am a partial owner of a custom furniture business with my brother. C. Designs? Theo’s the designer and creator. He’s got a pretty large following. I’m the bookkeeper.”
I frown. “Hayden’s very talented as well. He’s got a great eye for designing smaller detailed pieces.”
Hayden pulls a face at my defensive addition to his story. “None of that is making me money yet. I just do it as a hobby for friends. For now, my brother’s business keeps us very busy.”
“And that earns you a proper living?” Camden barks, taking a large swig of his beer, all evidence of playing vanished. I down a gulp of mine as well.
Hayden nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my brother right now, but not because of financial reasons.”
“His brother just had a baby,” I interject. “She’s four months old and beautiful. Hayden is great with her.”
Hayden frowns at me again. “She’s a great niece. I’m very attached.”
“So you’re close to your family then?” Tanner asks kindly.
His question makes me nervous. Diving into family details so quickly wasn’t expected. I thought they’d start talking football to be honest.
Hayden swallows but keeps his tone light. “My family is great. My parents and youngest sister live in Essex. I live with my brother not far from here, and I had an older sister who passed away four years ago.”
My brothers all look at him in stony silence.
“Fuck,” Camden says first, his face paling slightly as he looks at me with a renewed sense of appreciation.
Gareth’s moody expression turns cold and bleak. Tortured. I lean forward when his eyes start to look glossy, but Booker’s comment distracts me.
“Is that why you don’t drink?” Booker’s prying voice is challenging and cocky, clearly not worrying over any ounce of decorum.
Hayden cuts his eyes to Booker and I see Booker actually shrink in his seat.
“Partially. It’s complicated,” Hayden replies, sipping his water. “So, what about you lot? Can I ask you questions, or am I the only one under fire here?”
Tanner laughs and they eagerly start discussing football. This feels better. Talk of emotions at a table full of British lads is never top on anyone’s list of hot things to do in London. Gareth remains eerily silent the entire time, though, staring at his glass with morbid intent.
“Wanker,” I hear Booker mumble as Hayden answers Camden’s question about who his favourite footballer is.
“Booker, a word,” I hiss, knowing I can’t take another second of his pouty teenager act. I pop out of the booth, motioning with my head like a maniac. “Can I trust you guys not to be arses while I’m gone?”
“Probably not,” Camden replies, taking a swig. “But it’s worth a shot.”
I roll my eyes and Booker follows me to the loo hallway. I stop and turn a murderous gaze on him. “What the hell, Booker?” I seethe, barely able to contain my temper.
“What?” he barks back defensively.
“What are you trying to do? Win the award for the biggest arse of a brother? Christ! I expect it from them, but not you. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“He’s not good enough, Vi,” he snaps back, shoving a hand through his short brown hair.
“You’ve barely spoken to him!”
“I don’t have to. I can tell. He doesn’t drink at all,” he growls. “What is he? A recovering alcoholic? Boy, you really picked a winner.”
I shove him hard and catch him off guard enough that he stumbles back into the wall. “You listen here, baby brother. I’m still your big sister. I practically raised you. If I tell you someone’s important, they’re bloody important. End of.”
“Everything okay?” Hayden asks, coming around the corner. He narrows his eyes knowingly.
I cut one more withering glance at Booker. “Everything’s fine.”
“Okay, well a pack of fans have descended and Gareth told me you’d know what to do?” Hayden looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.
I nod and sigh. Welly’s is supposed to be sacred. The pub owner loves the guys and keeps a lid on the fact that they stop in regularly. Most pubs broadcast it for business, so I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.
“All right, just hang back here with Booker. It’ll be easier for us to get out that way.” I throw a warning look at Booker, and he nods subtly knowing that Hayden is not to be messed with right now.
I pull off my denim jacket and toss it haphazardly at Booker. Hayden eyes me in confusion as I crack my neck and put on my own game face. I stroll over to our booth and blanch at the larger than expected crowd swarming the table. There are at least six middle-aged blokes decked out in football fan gear. Super fans to be sure. Two have slid into the vacated side where Hayden and I were seated. Gareth seems to be blocking anyone from sitting down next to him.
I clear my throat loudly as I approach and poke one gentleman on the shoulder. “Oi! Pardon me, but I need to talk to that bloke right fucking there.” I hitch up my accent to sound thicker and more Manchester by dropping off the ends of most of my words.
The heavier-set man of the bunch turns on me with his nose wrinkled. He reeks of alcohol and fish n’ chips. “Get stuffed.” He turns back to the table like I don’t even exist.
I could be offended by his cheek. However, I’m a Harris, so I’m not easily derailed. I tap the man next to him. This guy has to be pushing fifty and idolising Gareth like he’s fucking royalty. “That fucking footballer has loads of explaining to do, so I fucking need to get in there. Get out of my way!” I exclaim, ramping up my performance to be a bit more dramatic.
Several of the guys turn to look at me, clearing a path for me to slide through. Gareth’s eyes land on me with a silent cheer of appreciation. Then he realises he’s on, so he’s got to react.
“Freya! What on earth are you doing here?”
“Don’t you Freya me. Your arse is coming with me, mate. You haven’t rang me in weeks!” I crow out in my best jilted female voice. “And bring those worthless brothers of yours. All of you are about to get it good from me and me flatmates.”
“Oi, shove off ya bird,” one bloke croaks from a few bodies over.
I frown and motion for Gareth to come along. He attempts to slide out, but the older man steps in front of him. “You don’t have to shove off just ‘cause of this fucking jersey chasing slag!”
My jaw drops and Gareth’s eyes turn a menacing shade of brown. I’ve done this little song and dance for Gareth several times before, and most blokes are keen to sit back and enjoy the show of a pro footballer getting his butt chewed from a relationship gone array. Gareth and I have become quite good at our performances. He even lets me slap him across the face if we get going really well. This has satisfied years of oppression that I suffered for being the only Harris in our household who could never break out of a headlock.
“She ain’t no jersey chaser,” the heavy one says. “I think she’s a proper tart. How much for a rub and tug, blondie?”
The man lays his sweaty palm right on my arse, and Gareth’s eyes turn to flames as he lunges across the table. But before Gareth’s hands connect with his throat, the man’s body is wrenched backward and out of the throng of people.
Shouting begins all around me, and I shove past the gawking crowd to see what’s happening. My eyes turn wide when I realise it’s Hayden who has the man in a painful-looking headlock. It reminds me of the full nelson wrestling hold they do in America. The man’s lip is bleeding and one eye is partially closed from a fresh punch. His obese belly is hanging out from beneath his jumper as he struggles to breathe against his arms that Hayden has gripped up under his ears.
“Fucking apologise to her,” Hayden roars, his face beet red with a fury I’ve never seen in him before. His arms bulge angrily beneath his shirt as he holds his restraint firmly.
The other men make a move for Hayden. In a blink, Gareth twists one guy’s arm behind his back, causing the man to drop on the ground, writhing in pain. Tanner and Camden shove a couple others away from Hayden and stand as a protective barrier between them.
“She’s a fucking jersey chasing cow! What the fuck are you on about, mate?” the man grumbles, causing Hayden to crank his hold on him. The guy cries out with a high-pitch squeal that would be comical in any other setting.
“Fucking apologise!” Hayden roars again, a vein popping out angrily on his forehead.
“All right! I’m fucking sorry! I’m sorry!” the man screams. Hayden releases him and gives him a swift kick in the arse, toppling him into the feet of his mates.
Just then, Booker shows up, joined by the bar owner with a menacing-looking bat. “Don’t try a thing, or I’ll call the cops on the lot of ya.”
Everyone freezes but Hayden, who moves toward me and places a hard hand on my back. He quickly walks me to the door. I glance back and see the bar owner pointing the bat at the football fans with a look that says not to fucking try a thing.
“Hayden,” I say as we step outside into the night.
He avoids eye contact with me as he nervously looks up and down the street. As if some divine intervention has been bestowed upon us, a large fifteen-passenger taxi van is parked on the corner letting out another group of football-looking fans. Why the hell are these guys all coming out of the woodwork tonight? Is it fantasy draft night or something? Regardless, we have a getaway vehicle now.
Hayden grabs my hand and pulls me down the sidewalk just as my brothers barrel out of the pub. “This way,” he shouts over his shoulder to them.
We get to the open door of the van. The driver looks like he’s about to argue, but Hayden says, “Two hundred quid for a quick lift.”
“Five hundred,” Gareth says, hopping in past us without pause.
The driver’s eyes grow wide as the rest of my brothers barrel in after him.
Hayden holds my hand to help me up, but I pause at the step. “Are you okay?” I ask, touching his face.
He yanks away from me and snaps with an acerbic tone, “Fine, get in. We need to leave.”
Hayden folds in behind me. “We should drop you guys first. I don’t want them seeing where Vi lives if they get it up their arses to follow.” He turns to look behind us but seems satisfied enough to turn and face ahead again.
“Smart thinking,” Camden says, then leans forward to give directions to the driver.
“Vi, I’m so sorry,” Gareth starts, punching the back of his seat angrily. “I never would have had you do that if I thought those wankers were that belligerent.”
I shake my head and start to reply.
“She shouldn’t have done it to begin with. Belligerent or not.” Hayden’s voice is cold and threatening.
“Look—” Gareth starts, leaning forward to get in Hayden’s face, but Booker’s voice stops him in his tracks.
“He’s fucking right, Gareth.” I turn around to see Booker staring angrily out the window from the far back row. “That’s the last time you have Vi get you out of a fan jam. Get a fucking bodyguard. It’s not like you can’t afford one.”
The van grows eerily quiet as our baby brother’s chastisement descends over us.
“It’s not all Gareth’s fault. I’m a big girl. I chose to do it,” I say, coming to his defence.
“Well, you chose wrong,” Hayden growls. “Had I known what you were doing—”
“I still would have done it! You’re not my boss, Hayden,” I snap.
“Vi,” Camden warns.
“What? It’s true. I’m not going to let you all manhandle me into what you think is best for me. This is horse shit. I’m a fucking adult. I’m tired of you all interfering.”
“Vi!” Tanner snaps out of nowhere. “I’m bloody grateful Hayden was there tonight. That scene was rubbish and scary as fuck! I for one am glad you have him. Just stop with the independent woman, feminist shit and say thank you to your bloke for defending you the way he did. It could have been so much worse.”
Tanner’s outburst stuns me. He rarely gets ruffled feathers and holy shit are his feathers ever ruffled right now.
“I am thankful you were there, Hayden,” I whisper to him. He still hasn’t looked at me. I want him to understand, though, that I don’t have to be taken care of all the time or scolded like a child. My independence is important to me. But he looks like he’s warring over something bigger than the pub skirmish. I want to push the issue, but I need him to come back to me first. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. He still won’t look at me and the lower part of his jaw shifts as if he’s in pain. I grab his hand and twine my fingers with his. His shoulders drop, and he finally turns his glossy eyes to me. “I’m really sorry.”
The anxiety and fear-stricken look on Hayden’s face makes me feel ill. I rub the backs of my fingers down his cheek, and he exhales a breath he’s been holding for miles. He leans into me and rubs his nose on my temple, sucking in a shaky breath. The touch feels important, like he’s telling himself that it’s okay for him to care about me.
After a few moments of driving in silence as we all stew about how bad that could have been, Tanner lightens the mood.
“Think you might have lost some fans tonight, bro.”
We all burst out laughing, and I glance over and see the corners of Hayden’s mouth turn up. Eventually, we pull up to our dad’s Chigwell house. My brothers each give Hayden a matey pat on the back before exiting the vehicle. Gareth stops and makes it a point to shake Hayden’s hand. They exchange a silent, heavy look and then we depart, back to Brick Lane.