The Only Way is Up

Part Twenty Six

In the past he'd have probably taken advantage of a young pretty girl drooling, he still had all that un-dealt with adrenaline, and even six months earlier he may have done bad things with her. But he wasn't interested, instead he was angry.

"This is the male changing room." He turned off the shower then reached for a towel.

Nodding, she finally dragged her eyes back up to his, she'd taken her fill of his body, "you've got a phone call."

"So you burst into the changing room to tell me? Is that what you tell me?"

She had the good grace to look embarrassed, and he could see straight through her, this wasn't the first time that she'd thrown herself in his direction, but it had never been as obvious as this.

"I thought it was important."

"So take a message."

She shrugged, "just wanted to..."

She stepped towards him, a sign in the past he'd have jumped on literally. For a moment he hated himself for being so superficial, but he regained his composure just as her hand reached out to touch him.

"Don't." He was tempted to grab her wrist to push her away, but he immediately thought of Nicole and her bruised wrist. Instead he stepped back. "Turn around and walk away."

"But I was thinking..."

He held up a hand, "don't please, I am not interested."

He hated that he sounded like a bastard, but he suddenly had this desperate need to see Nicole, to apologise, to see her smile...to kiss her. The grin that washed over his face was inane, but he didn't care, turning from her he reached for the clean t-shirt he'd brought down from his apartment, and started to dress. When he finished she was still stood there staring at him.

Shaking his head he marched past her and out the door. He only stopped to collect Gryaznyy, before hitting the road. He was on a mission.

Nicole sat on the veranda of the bar, overlooking a small park waiting for Lisa to arrive with their bottle of wine. It had taken two hours for her fractured metacarpal to be diagnosed. The doctor had called it a 'punch fracture', much to Lisa's amusement, and now she had he hand and forearm cast in a plaster. There was mention of a wrist splint, but Lisa seemed to egg the doctor on to make her hand as cumbersome as possible.

AS she emerged into the sun from the darkness of the pub, she grinned, and laying the drinks in front of Nicole she burst into a laugh.

"You made him do this didn't you?" She waved her bright blue wrapped arm in her colleagues face. And whilst she tried to remain serious, she failed.

"Ok, ok. He talked about splinting your fingers, but I told him you were a gymnast who probably wouldn't listen to advice when you went to the bathroom."

Nicole burst into laughter, "I don't know what's more ridiculous, this bloody arm...or the fact that a doctor could believe I'm a gymnast!"

Lisa rolled her eyes, "come on, you always put yourself down. You are a beautiful woman."

Nicole blushed, "hmm, not sure about that. But if I keep going to the gym..."

Lisa shook her head, "don't you dare. You don't need to lose weight, so you're not skinny, not everyone is. You are lovely as you are, you hear me?"

She wasn't convinced, so Lisa added, "well you've got THE hottest man on the planet running around like a love struck puppy, so you're doing something right."

"Pah." She dismissed her immediately, "puppy is right, he's too young, too handsome and too popular for me."

Lisa shrugged, "just cos you settled for Vincent bloody Brooker does not mean that he is ALL you can get. This man, boy, whatever you want to call him, he is VERY keen, and I would not be pushing him away."

Nicole nursed the wine glass in her un-plastered hand for a moment, contemplative, maybe she should try and enjoy things, rather than over think everything, because she knew that was what she was doing. But then she'd never been able to just 'go with the flow', half her life she'd fought to fit in with what her family wanted to be, the other half she'd had to deal with life on her own, alone. She had no reason to trust anyone, the last person she'd trusted had been Vincent, and he'd broken her in to pieces.

She thought back to those days after she'd lost the baby, how devastated she'd been, how much she'd needed him. And he'd taken that and just caused her more pain, accused her of being ineffective, 'an imitation'. She should have walked out then, but she was grieving.

Her breathing had become rugged and she suddenly felt a little dizzy, but then she hadn't allowed herself to think about the baby for SO long.

"You ok?" Lisa was looking at her anxiously.

She nodded, "just hate it when I flirt with memory lane."

Lisa squeezed her hand, "you've had a horrendous year. You deserve some eye candy to make you feel good about yourself; even though I think he's MORE than just pleasing on the eye." As Nicole struggled to verbalise her feelings, Lisa grinned, "be young and irresponsible for once, just see how it goes. You've got nothing to lose."

As they drank their wine, Nicole knew that wasn't strictly true.

It was a pleasant walk home, across the park, the sun dappled streets, she was relaxed, happy, despite the pain in both her hands. At the shop near to her house, she called in and bought another bottle of wine. She'd never been off sick, and she was more than tempted to stay home the following day.

She had a skip in her step when she entered her street, and then she saw the lolloping stride of the man walking towards her house from the opposite direction. Well she noticed him eventually, as the first thing she saw was a small scruffy dog sniffing every crack in the pavement.

"Maxim," his name was a breath on her lips. He was a sight for sore eyes, she hadn't heard from him all day, and had wondered if things had gone too far. His hair was damp, she could tell that, and in the pale t-shirt and her favourite jeans, he looked as edible as Lisa had described.

As his eyes lifted to hers, they'd been focussed on something near his feet, his while face lit up with pleasure, it was so easy to see, and it caused a surge of happiness to almost knock her over.

She started to move, a fast walk, then a run, and as she stared at him, she realised he was doing the exact same. It was almost as well timed as a movie, that they met at her garden gate. His hands flew to her shoulders, his lips thrust on hers before she could speak, before either of them could say or do anything.

And she fell into it, into him, into whatever this was going to be...