CHAPTER SEVEN
Face the Music
"Maya Crofton, you have some serious explaining to do.” Came Sasha’s very loud, very vague demand as she strutted the laminate flooring in her unnaturally white converse.
Ten minutes after I bailed on Luke, she had demanded that I meet her at The Grind and without so much as gracing me with a goodbye, hung up on me.
“Well?”
I quickly offered the ground a pleading stare before I turned my attention to a freakishly smiling woman; wide-eyed and raring to go.
"Must I drag it out of you?" she asked, glaring those green jewels of hers into mine with a look that had me both quivering in my seat and confused beyond belief.
How she knew about Luke and me is beyond thinking about but with a mind I could only describe as being psychic, I had no choice but to be honest.
"I just- we didn’t-”
With a disappointed sigh, she finally interrupted.
"I can’t believe you gave Jace my business card,” she stated, thankfully cutting me off.
Thank-fucking-God!
“He texted Harold, ya know?”
I laughed, “What? Why?”
Stuck halfway between wanting to giggle and cry, I allowed her the satisfaction of explaining the rest, grateful I was off the hook.
“The fucking idiot got our numbers mixed up. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my boss pass the message on? Jace went into great detail about how tight my arse looked in last week’s jeans. I’m dreading Tuesday when I have to look him in the eye,” she raged, rather childishly sulking in her seat.
Now I definitely wanted to laugh, though just about managed to withhold from doing so, fearful of how she would react.
"Did you text him back?” I questioned, not wanting my efforts to be wasted.
If I had to sit through one more week of her moaning about how she was receiving no attention from the opposite sex, I may very well have hit her over the head with my shoe.
“Of course I did. We’re meeting up through the week,” she smirked, gracefully accepting her cappuccino from Albert. “You babe!” she knowingly winked.
Albert’s only response was to retreat back in mild amusement once leaving me with my tea.
"So, how was last night? You stop at Luke’s?” Her casual question well and truly steered matters elsewhere and desperate to pull off casual, I offered her a shoulder shrug.
“Why’d you think that?” I questioned, once again wondering if she possessed the power of psychic abilities.
“You’re wearing his T-shirt and you didn’t come home last night,” she replied, throwing me off guard.
Fuck!
“Oh, right. Well, I decided to crash at his to save on taxis,” I offered, sounding like much the professional in my lie. “How was dinner with your parents?” I then asked, keen to move conversation on to anything other than Luke-related topics.
“Ugh, the usual. They seem to think my lack of going to church lately is down to a phase. I did try and explain that my faith has steered me elsewhere but they were having none of it. They’re expecting me at Sunday service tomorrow.”
“You gonna go?” I enquired, sipping on my tea, appreciative of its warming caress on my sore throat.
“No.”
Her reply was immediate and made me laugh; her insistence to remain true to herself really rather inspiring.
“Good for you.”
She shot over a friendly smile before settling further into her chair, chugging her coffee like the boiling hot liquid was nothing to her.
“Where’s Luke now, anyway? Hungover?” she questioned, bringing up the one person I was trying to avoid.
He’d called a total of four times and had left three messages; all of which focused on the events of the previous night and my inability to hang around in the morning.
“Probably. Should we go food shopping later? I’ve noticed the fridge is looking a little pathetic,” I suggested, needing a Luke-free day.
Week, even!
“Yeah, can do. I’ll just nip to the loo and we can get going. Remind me to pick up some kale; I ran out yesterday.”
Fucking kale!
“Yeah alright, as long as you get some chocolate too. Kale may be good for you but it tastes like cardboard,” I scorned, seeing her amusement almost instantly.
“Yeah, yeah!” she replied, disappearing into the toilets just as I rejected yet another call from Luke.
He was so persistent!
~~~
At Asda, I mindlessly watched as Sasha filled the trolley with ingredients that were apparently good for me, though simply resembled that of different variants of tree.
I mean tree, for fuck sake!
Not once did she settle for a more comfortable diet and she bypassed the biscuit aisle entirely.
“Sash, you skipped the jammy dodgers, babe,” I informed, having her on.
“Do you know how much sugar is in a packet of those?” she asked, skidding to a halt next to the fresh fish.
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I laughed, eyeing up a rather questionable looking cod with its mouth wide open.
“Lots,” she replied, unable to give me an exact number.
I didn’t even like jammy dodgers but the choice of having at least a digestive in my life would’ve been nice every now and then. Hell, I was even willing to drop down to McVitie’s Lights if it meant I could enjoy a cheeky biccie with my morning cuppa.
“Alright, it’s a no to the jammy dodgers, but I’m getting two jars of Nutella this week,” I told her, putting my foot down with regards to my breakfast ritual.
“It’s your body, not mine,” she said, as if reverse psychology was really going to work when all I was eating for the next seven nights were twigs and nuts.
Thankfully, any potential argument was stopped there as her attention momentarily settled on her ringing phone, for its deafening blare was awfully demanding.
“It’s Luke,” she announced, worrying me. “Hey, Anderson! How’s the head?” she answered, chirpy in her enquiry.
I decided to busy myself by reading the nutrition guidelines on the pack of cashews we had situated in our trolley and became fiercely intrigued by the amount of saturated fats one packet held.
“Yeah, she’s with me. We’re in Asda.”
Crap!
“Okay. He wants to speak to you,” she claimed, handing over her phone.
“What? Why?” I asked, nervously so.
“I dunno, ask him.”
I reluctantly took the device from her outstretched hand and turned my back on her, preparing myself for the potential backlash I was no doubt about to receive.
“Hello.”
“Hey, runaway. I got your jacket from the cloakroom.”
Oh.
“Thanks.”
Silence.
“So what gives, Maya? Why’d ya bail?”
He was unable to hide the hurt from his voice and I felt nothing short of awful for being the main reason behind it.
“Well, I was kind of hoping you’d somehow contracted amnesia and that you’d forget all about me staying the night,” I explained, wandering off down the crisp aisle.
“I don’t think you can contract amnesia. You just get it,” he replied, selective hearing certainly kicking in.
“Hmm. You remember everything then?”
“As clear as day,” he admitted. “You?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then, where does that leave us?”
I pondered over his question for a few short seconds and found myself coming up short as I made my way towards the bakery section. I needed sugar!
“Not a clue,” I responded, picking up a Cherry Bakewell. “Do you want a vanilla slice?”
“Please,” he replied, appreciative as ever. “Can I put out a suggestion?” he then asked, thankfully taking charge of the situation.
“Feel free.”
There was shuffling on the other end and I just about made out the distant sounds of other people nearby.
“If I come and see you, do you promise not to panic and run away again?” he questioned, justifiable in asking.
“Yeah, I promise.”
It was about time I put on my big girl pants and dealt with the situation the mature way.
“Good, because I’m standing right behind you,” he revealed; voice shaking slightly.
I instantly snapped my head around and almost dropped our sugary treats on the floor at the sheer force in which I did so. He was stood in the middle of the bread aisle; phone in one hand and my denim jacket in the other. He looked extremely exhausted and visibly glum, though showed signs of hopefulness.
“You know what they say; sleep with your best friend and talk it out in the middle of the bread aisle,” I laughed, balancing the cakes in my left hand.
Thank God he smiled.
“I’d have much preferred to have done it in the privacy of my home, but the woman I slept with last night fled before I was even awake,” he retaliated, all in good fun. “And now she’s ignoring my calls.”
“What a bitch,” I responded, staying firmly in place and carrying on with our conversation by remaining ten meters away; speaking through the phone. “I bet she feels guilty for running out on you now.”
“Do you think she regrets it?” he asked, seemingly taking to the idea of discussing things in third person.
It made things less personal.
“I don’t think she regrets it. I think she’s scared.” I admitted, feeling suddenly emotional.
“Would she appreciate a cuddle?” he questioned, sensing my unease.
“Yes, please,” I whispered, letting go my tears.
He strode towards me and within seconds we were embraced in each other’s arms; his broad frame acting as my support as he all but shoved words of encouragement down my ear.
“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. This isn’t a bad thing, I promise.” he sighed, landing quick kisses to my head.
I became vaguely aware that we were in very public surroundings and proceeded to pull myself together, not wanting to seem pathetic in my need to sob.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left this morning,” I apologised, wiping my runny nose on the back of my sleeve. “I’ve never had a one night stand before. I assumed that was appropriate behaviour.”
“But you’re not just a one night stand. You’re Maya. My Maya and I never want you to feel like you’re in a situation where you can’t be honest with me,” he levelled, sounding determined.
I looked into those familiar blue eyes of his and was gifted a rather ill-timed flashback of them dilating as a result of an intense climax. His mesmerising moans of pleasure were next to hit me, and the feel of liquid heat rushing to the area in between my legs became almost unbearable as I came to realise just how aroused I was at the thought of having Luke buried deep within me again.
No, no, no.
“How about we take this discussion back to yours? I’ll help you fill out some more application forms and we’ll set everything straight.” he ensured, taking hold of my trembling hands.
“Okay,” I agreed, trying not to enjoy the way our fingers felt, interlocked.
“Jesus, you’re shaking,” he acknowledged, fearful in his revelation. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, I’m just a little nervous. I have no idea what happens next,” I admitted, directing my gaze towards the tiled floor.
“Nothing has to happen if the thought of doing so makes you upset,” he insisted, tugging me into yet another hug. “The way I see it, we have two options. We either shag again or we cut our losses,” he laughed, thankfully taking me along with him.
I giggled against his open suggestion and nodded my head, seeing Sasha return with the added two Nutella jars to our pile.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I smiled, not wanting Sasha to gain suspicion.
I ignored his hopeful expression.