CHAPTER TEN
Informal Visits
Whilst walking through the double glass doors, carrier bag in hand and sticking out like a sore thumb, I made my way over to the reception desk, eyeing the very petite brunette currently sat with a welcoming smile.
"Hi, how can I help?" she asked; housing a honeyed voice.
Her brown, almost black eyes sparkled against the sun's natural lighting, and in a white dress that did wonders for her curvy figure, I momentarily wondered if she was subject to a lot of attention, working at such a heavily male employed firm.
"Hi, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Luke Anderson, please?" I smiled, offering up my own appreciative smile. “Family law,” I added, fruitless in my attempts to elaborate.
“The whole building is family law, love.” she smiled, having taken pity on me. “But if it’s the gorgeous Geordie lad you’re after, he’s on the second floor, sweets. Would you like someone to escort you?" she questioned, shocking me with her suggestive description.
Her mention of Luke being gorgeous strangely rubbed me up the wrong way, which was preposterous when thinking about it. It was hardly my place to say, but how dare she think my Luke was gorgeous and outright tell me to my face?
"Erm, no thanks," I declined, clenching my teeth. "It's not a formal visit, I’m a close friend,” I added, feeling the need to express extreme ownership.
Her smile said she had seen it all before, and with a wink I could only assume was allusive, she sent me on my way, pointing me in the direction of the lifts. The interior appeared to be very state of the art, a lot like everything else in this building. So much so, I slowly proceeded to make my way up towards floor two, suddenly self-conscious. The clinically modern space created a rather professional vibe. With the uniform requirements throughout seemingly screaming wealth, I immediately felt out of place in my plain jumper and baggy jeans. The huge mirrors situated inside were certainly not helping. Though my hair was straighter than usual, the slight wind London was currently undergoing did a great job in seeing to my windswept look.
Bloody great!
The loud ping suddenly pulled me from my insecurities. As I prepared my dismount, two very clean cut women entered, giving my entire body the once over.
“Are you lost?” one asked, welcoming in her enquiry.
“Not sure, I’m looking for Luke Anderson,” I replied, figuring I might as well use her for information.
Her face filled with recognition and her friendly expression mellowed. “Second door on your right,” she kindly offered.
“Thanks.”
With little execution, I found myself outside a room with Todd Garret: Family Law embossed proudly on the door; its gold-plated centre proving really rather classy. Luke had always prided the company on its finer details and had expressed his wishes to continue working there for its level of professionalism alone. He’d been interning for almost three months and worked his bollocks off on a daily basis trying to impress the higher-ups.
Slowly, I opened the door and wondered if perhaps I should’ve knocked first but released a silent breath when I saw Luke was the only one to occupy the space. He was wearing tweed and looked truly dashing for having done so, matched with brown shoes and his signature glasses.
“Hey, you,” I softly spoke, grabbing his attention.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, pleasantly surprised.
He immediately reclined in his chair, focusing his eyes on me instead of the computer screen.
“Brought lunch, didn’t I?” I replied, thrusting my Sainsbury’s carrier his way.
“Oh, you’re a godsend. I was just thinking I wish Maya were here with a meal deal,” he smirked, ushering me over.
“Chicken mayo or prawn salad?”
His face instantly recoiled in horror; my options having failed to impress.
“Prawn salad. Are you serious?”
“Alright, chicken mayo it is, then,” I laughed, throwing him the bland concoction.
With the goods dished out, I perched myself at the edge of his desk and dug into my own lunch, instantly tensing at the feel of his hands at my waist. Without so much as speaking, he switched places with me; positioning himself at the end of his desk while I had full luxury of his swivel chair. It was a simple gesture, yet I found my heart swelled at the sentiment behind it.
"Busy day?” I asked, thinking he looked nothing short of funny eating a £3.00 meal deal in a £200 suit.
“Stressful,” he admitted; voice strained.
“Nervous for the weekend?”
“Shitting bricks.”
I laughed at his analogy, no nearer to being sympathetic than I was amused. His award ceremony was fast approaching and I knew he was feeling the pressure.
Poor lad.
“You’ll be fine. I promise.”
He nodded his head in a moment of uncertainty, causing the bob of his exposed Adam’s apple to simultaneously grab my attention. I found the strangely erotic body part to be a little arousing, and had I not been so engrossed with it, I might have caught the filling of my sandwich as it fell to my leg.
“Oh, shit!”
“Ha, what you like? Come here.” he smiled, grabbing a napkin to clean me up.
Grateful for his help, I allowed him the satisfaction of taking charge; though soon regretted doing so when his touch became a little too enjoyable.
“Thanks, I’m such a tramp.”
“You’re telling me. I still love ya, though,” he smirked, binning the dirty napkin and returning his attention to me.
His hungry gaze settled on mine, the undeniable amount of affection in his eyes certainly not going unnoticed.
“Why did you come today?” he enquired, suddenly serious.
“I felt like getting out of the flat,” I explained. “That and I wanted to make sure you were eating.”
His habit to sometimes skip lunch didn’t sit well with me.
“That all?”
“Why else?”
“I dunno. I thought maybe you missed me?” he replied; eye contact still strong.
I offered him a stern look and proceeded to take a sip of water, unsure of his motives.
“Would you like that? If I missed you?”
I was offered a curt shoulder shrug in response; his seemingly cool demeanour fooling no one. I laughed.
“Lucas Anderson! You may be charming by all accounts, but you are shit at being nonchalant,” I accused, pulling on his trouser-clad leg.
“You think I’m charming?” he asked, positively lighting up at the thought.
“Sure. You got me into bed, did you not?”
“That falls under persuasive, not charming.”
Once again, I laughed.
Since our movie binge- where Luke slipped up with regards to my cleavage- things between us had been quite strange. And by ‘quite strange’, I meant intense. Remaining platonic was proving difficult. I was staying strong, but could feel my resolve slowly starting to slip and with it, my curiosities grow. There was no denying how great Luke had made me feel and as memories of our shared night together began to fade, I not only needed a reminder but wanted one. I wanted to do it again.
~~~
The Grind was much quieter come late afternoon and I found it was often my favourite time to come and just sit. Sometimes, I would bring a book and others, nothing. People-watching in one of London’s busiest tourist attractions was more often than not entertaining enough, though on this occasion I had decided to call Mum with the hopes her sweet, familiar voice offered up a successful distraction. Luke had been dominating my every thought of late and I was desperate for an escape.
“Sweetheart, you’ve caught me at a bad time. I’m defrosting the freezer.”
Oh, bloody hell.
“Hello to you too,” I mocked, finding her current situation rather comical.
I could just imagine her on her hands and knees, cursing the freezer for all that it was worth.
“Sorry,” she replied, before suddenly raising her tone to an intense yell. “Darren, get more towels!”
“Christ Mum, you sound like you’re assisting in a home birth, not defrosting the freezer,” I laughed, picturing my poor Step-Dad, Darren, running around like a headless chicken with piles of towels in his arms.
“Childbirth would be easier than this, let me tell you that.”
Talk about dramatic.
“Whatever, Mum. I’ll call you back over the weekend if you want? It was nothing important; I just missed you, that’s all.”
“Oh darling, I miss you too, but if I don’t go now, our kitchen will be a sodding swimming pool by tonight.”
I scoffed.
“Alright, well I’ll let you go. Good luck with the freezer!”
“I’ll need it. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Just as I hung up, Luke’s lean body came into view; dark jeans and leather jacket making him appear positively yummy.
“Hey, you. Ordered yet?”
“Nah, I was waiting for you,” I replied, tossing him the menu, though why I had no idea.
I already knew he would get the Vanilla Sl-
“Vanilla Slice and a coffee,” he confirmed, ever so predictably. Called it! “You?”
“Cherry Bakewell, obviously!” I answered, already drooling over the thought. “I just had Mum on the phone. She’s making a pigs dinner of defrosting the freezer. Had Darren running around collecting towels.”
“Poor bloke. Has he finished building her the shed yet?”
“Don’t even ask,” I laughed, unable to keep up with my Mum’s weekly DIY projects.
Poor Darren was forced to build her these extravagant buildings whenever an idea formulated in her mind, only for her to then get bored a day later and demand something else. Just last month it was a greenhouse.
“She’s so picky.”
“Like Mother, like daughter,” he smiled, flashing me a wink.
“Piss off! I’m not as bad as her!” I defended, grabbing my purse to purchase our chosen cake for the day.
“Maya, I think you’re the pickiest person I know.”
“Well, I can’t be that bad. I slept with you, didn’t I?” I fired his way, instantly responding to his cheeky smile and nervous laugh.
“Excuse me? I do believe I was rated ten out of ten,” he retorted, argumentative as ever. “And your consistent moans of pleasure, alongside your need to fucking touch yourself were sure indicators you were enjoying it.”
“Your point being?” I smirked, sensing him going off track a little.
“My point…” he paused. “My point is you’re too picky with men. Was I or was I not the best shag you ever had?”
“Luke!”
“Just answer the question, Maya. Was I?”
“Yes,” I whispered, fearful of Albert hearing.
“Yet you dismiss the option of doing it again.”
Where was all this coming from?
“Because we’re best friends, not because I’m picky.”
Luke offered up a sure smirk, seemingly knowing something I didn’t.
“That’s just an excuse for being picky,” he insisted, pulling on my purse and shoving it back in my bag. “I’m getting these.”
“Thanks,” I smiled, following him to the cake counter. “And not starting a romantic relationship with you does not make me picky. Cautious? Yes but not picky. And besides, we both agreed on that? Why am I suddenly getting all the blame?” I moaned, nudging his side.
He pulled out his wallet and asked Mel for his Vanilla Slice, alongside my Cherry Bakewell. He then proceeded to pay her with a generous smile before leading me back over to our intimate table, seemingly thinking through my latest enquiry.
“I said I was happy with whatever decision you made.” he countered, biting into his cake.
“So this is my fault?” I asked, following suit.
Cake heaven!
“It’s your fault entirely.”
“Luke!”
I couldn’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“What? I’m just saying…If you weren’t so picky, we’d-”
“We’d what?"
“Sex it up.”
I pissed myself laughing.
“See Luke, phrases like that are why I can’t be with you.”
“Exactly,” he laughed, pointing his fork to my chest. “PICKY!”
My god, I couldn’t win!