Drink Me

1. SÚILE GLIC

SÚILE GLIC

Riley was certain of only four things in life: one, the earth wasn't flat; two, 1984 was the greatest book of all times; three, he could hit an apple six hundred meters away with a single shot of his rifle; four, there wasn't any data he couldn't manipulate.

It was because of the last that he was now working a nine to five, slaving eight hours a day for a job that any average analysts could do.

After leaving the Royal Marines, he had started working at GCHQ and had spent three months in Cheltenham, lost in the Gloucestershire countryside. Transferring to London had been a welcomed transition but, he now knew it, it wasn't enough.

Because he missed the action. He craved an adrenaline rush.

Still, he knew his discharge was inevitable. He couldn't bear to stay if Noah wasn't there any longer.

When the doorbell rang, startling him from his book, Riley realised, with much dismay, that that was the biggest adrenaline spike he had had in weeks.

He placed the book on the glass coffee table in front of him and crossed the large living room. He opened the door, expecting to see his cousin ringing his own doorbell to warn Riley he was home, in case he had been up to something sketchy.

But it wasn't Aidan.

Chocolate soft curls were the first thing he saw. They fell graciously on the woman's shoulders, staining the white of her cardigan like caramel swirls. Her legs were long, despite her being almost twenty centimetres shorter than him, and dark denim gloved her muscular thighs. When she looked up, a confused look on her face, Riley found himself momentarily lost in her big, black eyes; he had never seen eyes so dark. She frowned and two thick grooves formed on her alabaster forehead, between her parted fringe.

"And you are?" She asked slinging her bag over her shoulder. A twang in her accent.

Riley frowned in response, she had rung the bell why was she questioning him?

Then a figment of recognition formed at the back of his mind.

"You're Aidan's girlfriend..." He said.

The woman studied him.

Her round onyx eyes heavy on him.

Then her look softened, her pink plump lips parted slightly.

"You're his cousin, of course! I forgot you were staying at his place..."

American. Boston? New York? He couldn't remember and couldn't place her rolling vowels.

Her voice was velvety, almost husky but sweet.

"Riley," he offered his hand.

"Alice," she shook it with a welcoming smile.

"Oh, come in," he said.

Riley closed the door behind the woman, who dropped her coat and bag on a high stool.

"Aidan's not home yet," he informed her.

"Yes," she sighed. She didn't look surprised. "I've called him a couple of times but he hasn't picked up. Probably busy in a meeting".

Riley watched her confidently walk to the mahogany bar across the living room and pour herself a scotch. He had never pictured his sophisticated cousin with someone wearing Dr Martens to a date night.

She took a sip of the amber drink and turned to Riley, his gaze still glued on her.

"Oh sorry, want a drink?" She asked.