"Mr Wright is waiting for you in the main office on the last floor." The young receptionist returns my smile with a voice just as warm.
"Wright as in Wright Books?" I whisper, in complete awe, that the CEO of the place is the one that has read my book and wants to talk directly to me.
"Yes, he wants to see you." She whispers back, mirroring me with a light giggle, clearly amused.
I look at her with wide eyes as my stress doubles. I wasn't expecting to meet someone so important. I gather the courage to walk to the lift, but I remember having my luggage and feeling stupid carrying it around. It doesn't make me look professional at all. I look like a kid going to school. So I turned around and walked to the receptionist again.
"I'm so sorry to bother you again, but do you think you can keep my luggage behind your desk while I meet Mr Wright?" I struggle to say, almost imploring her with my eyes. I am all over the place. I don't think the lady has seen anybody as desperate as I am at the moment.
"Of course." She smiles and hurries me to go to my appointment.
"Thank you," I say before running slightly to the lift again.
The last thing I need is to be late and replicate the same ridiculous show to her boss.
I get in the elevator, and the way up makes me nervous. I pressure myself to make a great impression. I want to seem professional and mature. I'm told it's my most important quality.
The lift has a lovely view of London outside the thick window. Seeing everything beneath me through the glass as I get higher and higher in the building is intimidating. I get a clear view of the city and the boroughs. I love this part of London. If I weren't wearing heels today, I would have wanted to walk these streets tonight after my meeting. Maybe tomorrow before my departure.
The lift rings, and the doors open to another reception desk right in front of me. I walked to yet another receptionist. She was also strikingly young and beautiful. It led me to the idea that Mr Wright had something for fresh meat.
"Miss Hemingway, the door is open. Mr Wright waits for you." The receptionist smiles at me from behind her desk on the seventh floor.
I nervously try to slick my blouse and formal pants, contrasting with what I usually wear.
I don't even question how she knows who I am. I quickly thank her and intertwine my fingers nervously together as I step closer to her boss's office. I slowly make my way to the door, taking a deep breath and walking confidently.
I am surprised by the brightness in the room. The office is so big it takes some time before I set my sights on the tall figure standing next to their desk. I barely have a glimpse of the man, a dry tone freezes me in place.
"Close the door behind you." He orders with a direct and low voice. There is a gentle and warm rasp to the sound of his voice, but his tone is so dry it makes me feel uncomfortable.
I turn slowly to the large mahogany door and obey his demand, frowning to myself and taking deep breaths to calm my rising anxiety. The cold greeting isn't easing my nerves. It doesn't feel at all like I'd imagine my dreams becoming true.
Is this the way business is done here?
I slowly make my way to his desk as the man, his head facing down, looks pretty focused on looking through a pile of papers, his glasses falling to the tip of his nose. I tried to gather some lost confidence when I opened the office door.
The man seems tall and much younger than I would have thought. I initially imagined a big older man, the happy, loving grandfather type. So it's shocking to see a young man, maybe a couple of years older than me.
I take this time to glance at him quickly. He is broad and seems confident. That instantly inspires my confidence, and I like it. He is wearing a dark blue Ralph Lauren polo under a grey unbuttoned cardigan with rolled-up sleeves and what seems to be beige trousers. It's an exquisite look. Once again, confidence. His hair is beautifully gelled back. He wears a brown leather watch on his left wrist, which hints that he is right-handed. But it overall indicates to me his elegance and professionalism.
I find myself looking forward to working with this good looking young man even though I made myself to the idea of meeting an older man. It's quite a significant update, I thought.
He still hasn't paid attention to me, completely lost in his frustration finding the document he is looking for.
"You can take a seat." He says as he lifts his eyes to meet mine for the first time.
I expected blue to match his brown sugar coloured hair, but I was again wrong. Green. A deep shade of green like emerald or jade, somewhere in between. I've never seen such a beautiful and mesmerising gaze. He looks at me intensely, intently. His brows flicker slightly, not knowing whether to frown or go up in surprise.
I oblige again as he pushes back his glasses on the bridge of his nose, revealing the face I found myself so eager to see. Just when the corners of my mouth start to lift in a warm and genuine smile, he breaks our gaze to go through his papers again. His gaze seemed real, confident. Even if he's cold, he looks very professional, which inspires me good esteem.
I find myself trying to make a good impression to show my worth. But he is so lost in his mess of papers covered in Post-Its that all I can think to try is to help him in any way to make him move on from his frustrations.
"Do you need help?" I ask, trying to be of help and charm him a little as I sit on the tip of the seat.
"No. I'll be right back." He says and leaves the office furiously to enter the room next door.
I look at him walk away. His pace is quick and determined but not entirely confident. He holds his head leaned to the side as he scratches the back of his neck. He is, in fact, very tall, maybe a foot taller than me. It hits me as I see him walk through the door frame.
I stop my stare when he leaves my sight. I think back on our introduction, which wasn't one. It consisted of ordering me things without looking really at me. I didn't like his cold tone, so I decided to kill him with kindness. I challenge myself to make him smile. He probably was just stressed about his document missing. I am convincing myself.
It takes him literally two minutes before he comes back with a small pile of paper in his hands. It's my book. The more he walks my way, the more I see all the colours of Post-its in between the pages.
My eyes slide back on him as he finally sits behind the desk and sets his eyes on me. A long silence follows until he speaks utterly disturbing words with the most severe gaze, oblivious of how I might receive his comment.
"I was expecting someone more mature."
I look at him, not anywhere else, my eyes sinking in an emerald gaze that a few moments earlier inspired me with confidence. I realised that it was only cold, not the confident, strong and determined look that his first impression had given me. He seemed sweet, but we could only agree on one thing, that we were wrong about each other.
"Sorry to disappoint." I smile, using every muscle in my cheeks even though his words hurt me.
"I had high hopes because of your name, Miss Hemingway, and you did not disappoint."
He looks at me right into my eyes, very coldly but truthfully. It is somehow terrifying but, in a weird way, very comforting.
"I thought you to be more experienced."
I am taken aback again by his words. Whether he is rude of nature and doesn't know how to have a civilised exchange with a potential client, he is just as inexperienced as I am, and he is stressed. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he looks at me, piercing my skull with his steady gaze.
"I'm sorry..." I apologise to him, and he gives me a disrespectful annoyed glance.
What did I do!? I apologised when there was no reason for me to. What is his problem?!
It's like he shuts off the little attention I had from him. I feel like he doesn't even want me here. It bothers me a lot.
"In that case, you were wrong, which disagrees with your name, Mr Wright," I reply with an arrogance I didn't know I had, still not breaking eye contact with him. "I won't hide you my disappointment."
He looks at me and narrows his eyes. He doesn't say anything right away. He seems to be in his head a lot. He just looks at me. I try to stand my ground and not feel intimidated by him, which I am, but I try to act through it.
"Be careful of what you say to me, young lady." He threatens me as he lifts his head to be ultimately facing me for the first time.
"Young lady? You are not much older than me..." I let out with a thick Manchester accent as I defy him from sight the same way he has been doing to me.
"It's my name on the building. You should be bright enough to know to treat me with respect." He steps away from my manuscript on his desk and crosses both of his arms on his chest as he rests his back entirely against his oversized black leather chair.
"I'm not saying anything. You've been insulting me since I got in." I defend myself instinctively. Being offended now, I reply to him, making me so nervous that I'm shaking.
"I'm not. It's quite the contrary. I want to publish you." He is back to being confident, but his look is still cold and firm.
I don't know where to stand! Does he want me? Because he is not making it evident to me when he makes me feel horrible about myself.
"The contrary?! It's not because it's your family's company that it gives you the right to treat people like shit." I have no control over the words that come out of my mouth. It seems to have a brain on its own.
His gaze changes, and he looks immediately down. He stays silent for a couple of seconds. I am happy my words made him reflect on himself and his behaviour. He flattens his hands on his desk at arm's length and sighs deeply before looking at me. His eyes are softer, almost hurt, and I don't get what I might have said to upset him. I've only spoken the truth.
"This is going very badly... Look, I want to publish your story-- "
"Well, I don't like you." I honestly question whether publishing my book is worth it because I don't see myself working with him. I am really hurt and profoundly upset. I don't want to be angry and stressed every time we have to work.
"Are you always this arrogant?" He replies arrogantly, ironically. He is back at being mean again. I shouldn't have said that and kept it to myself.
"I'm a very nice person. Which is something I can't say about you..."
I don't have the time to stop myself, and the words are out of my mouth. I regret them, even though I mean them.
"You dare judge me as we meet for the first time?" He spits out like a snake with its venom.
"You started. You haven't given me a chance yet. You were too focused on your disappointment with the idea you had of me."
"At least you are right on something. I'm indeed really disappointed now."
"Believe me; it's disappointing for me too. Plus, you seem desperate. I don't want to commit to something that won't be taken seriously. I have to travel from Manchester to be here. It's a big thing, and I don't want to be wasting any more of my time or yours." In a rush of adrenaline, I let out as I stand up and pick up my purse before heading for the door, more than ready to leave this toxic environment.
I take the knob in my hand with great determination to not let myself be bullied one second more. I exit the office with a sad deception hidden under the adrenaline still rushing through my veins.
Even if I didn't want to lift my expectations too high, this was by far the most horrible encounter I have ever had. I thought I came here to have my biggest dream come true, and it turned into a big joke and a failure. It turned out to be worse than that. It is a nightmare.
Under anger and nervousness of this situation, I get in the lift and press numerous times on the button to get the doors closed quickly. A great deal of sadness and disappointment gets stuck in my throat. It makes my eyes water. I try to keep it all in as best as possible, but I'm running back and forth in my mind about everything that has happened in that office, from the first word to the last.
When I hear the ding, I hurry out and go to the reception to get my bag. I walk fast and do not even smile at the lovely woman who was so kind to me earlier. I take my bag and get out of the building. The city air hits me hard like a train right to my face. I don't know where to go now. I don't know what I want to do, even if I knew my way around.
I breathe in deeply to calm myself down a few times, but it isn't working. My whole body is trembling, trying to keep myself composed, but I can't do that alone, not now.
I take my phone out and dial Steeve's number out of habit. Ever since we got together almost five years ago, I've always tried to convince myself that he had been my confidant, best friend, and right-hand man. We are so different from each other, but we complete ourselves in many ways. He isn't really into literature the way that I am. He hardly ever reads. He read my stuff and some biographies of great athletes, but that sums it up. We didn't have it easy at the beginning. We've known many ups and downs, but he's the only one I've got. He's the only one I've ever had.
He picks up on the third ring, and hearing his voice makes everything come out, from the anger to the tears I held inside.
"Hey, babe, what's up? Wait for a second. I'm turning the speed down." He says as I hear the beeping sound of the machine he seems to be running on. "How was your meeting?"
I try my best to contain my sobs, but with everything that happened today, all this bad luck to be all for nothing, I'm just so freaking knackered. My eyes water and tears quickly run out and fall on my cheeks. I take two steps ahead and sit on the border of the sidewalk.
"It was horrible." I take my head into my hands and rest my elbows on my knees.
"What? Are you crying, baby? Tell me everything." He breathlessly asks, his concern evident in his voice.
"I'm so tired of everything. I don't know why I came here in the first place. I met the editor, and he was so rude to me."
"What? I thought they wanted to meet you because they liked your book."
"Yeah, he told me it was good, but he thought I would be more mature and experienced." I struggle to say as I wipe the few tears under my eyes.
"What a wanker! Come back home, Grace. Get up, head into a bar, drink your arse up to have a nice time in the city and come back home to me tomorrow. I'll make you scream all the anger you have inside, in a pleasurable way." He tried to cheer me up, emphasising the right word, as I heard him stop his machine, and it genuinely brought a smile to my lips.
I thank him. This experience made me realise how much better my life is at home than what I would leave it for.
"Why are you not here with me?" I whine a little.
"A night with you, in a hotel room, I wouldn't have said no. But I had to work this morning..."
"And you are at the gym now? Did you make any sales?" I wonder, trying to change my mind, and I know that if there's one thing Steeve loves more than me, it's to talk about himself.
"Yeah, I'm at the gym. I talked to the place manager, and they want new machines as they plan on renovating the locker rooms to make more room in the gym. So, I might sell some soon." He proudly says, still out of breath.
"That's incredible. I'm so proud of you." I wipe the final stubborn tears and smile at the phone as this news might be the thing I needed to get over the failure I just lived.
Steeve represents a fitness store and makes commissions on the gear and the machines he sells. Since we've moved in together in a small flat in Manchester, over Nando's, and with me still studying and not working as much, we need the money. We desperately need the money. This book deal would have saved us a lot of worries.
"Don't worry about it. J.K. got turned down many times before getting published, and she wrote Harry Potter, which is a massive phenomenon. Everything is going to be fine." He says to me, being surprisingly fitting, and this is precisely what I needed to hear to feel better.
"Thanks, I needed that. I needed you. I'm going to try and find myself a nice hotel. I'll see you tomorrow. Big kisses to you." I hang up and get up to look around for a place to spend the night.
All the hotels in the city are expensive. So, I get on the tube and get on the Piccadilly line to Heathrow to get to a station with cheap hotels. I get out at Knightsbridge and find Harrod's instead. Half the items in the store are higher than the monthly rent for my flat back home. It's incredible. And by incredible, I mean ridiculous.
I get out of there in no time since I can't buy anything and get on the tube to exit at Hammersmith. It's a beautiful part of London. To find a hotel, I decide to connect to the O2 Wifi to check online instead. I see something last minute in Hayes through Expedia. The price is low and affordable for me. It's a small studio apartment in a hotel called Staycity. I book online and find my way with Google Map.
I get back in the tube to exit at Heathrow Terminal 1,2,3. I head directly to the airport bus station and look for the right red bus to get to my hotel. A bored woman answers me lazily to take the 140 to get there and exit at the Hayes and Harlington station, which I do and get off right by the hotel.
I walk by a construction site right next to the building and make my way around to get in. I am pleasantly surprised by the Tesco on the side of the building. I might go there to get something to eat, but I just remember the promise I made to Steeve to head out and have fun to forget how bad my day has been.
I walk inside the hall, and it's beautifully clean and decorated with yellow, black and grey couches and matching accessories. It also has a grass carpet on the cement wall. It's surprisingly very gorgeous for the deal I got.
I check in at the front desk. I am welcomed by a lovely lady that hands me the key to my room. I walk with lazy steps to the lift. It gets me smoothly to the eighth floor. I walk to my room and get in. The room is small but beautiful. Everything is simple and cosy. I place my luggage at the end of the bed and let my body loudly collapse on the mattress.
I look at the ceiling and, for a long time, think back on what happened. I don't know how it could have gone wrong. I can barely believe it. But I get up and decide to get ready to head to a bar as Steeve told me to. I quickly get changed into clothes that are more like me. I pick tight jeans and my AC/DC tee from my bag and put on my comfortable black Converse instead of the stuck up clothes I wore to make a good impression. I guess it didn't help me at all, unfortunately.
So I get back outside and blindly walk through the streets. I don't even walk for two minutes that, right around the corner, I find what looks like a live music bar or something like that. I look around and see no proof that the pub is open. No lights. I see nothing through the windows. I look at my cell, and it says 8:47 PM. It should be open. I don't know why it wouldn't be. I hope it is as I pull the unlocked door and see many people there. Thank God!
Instruments are being tuned in the background, and I can see that the crowd is mainly of what seems to be usual drunks, all sitting at the bar, as a few tables are occupied next to the small stage where a band is setting up. A woman is sitting at the table right in front. I decide to take the free table next to her and maybe talk to her later because drinking alone is never fun. She looks to be about my age, so it makes contact easier.
I go to the bar and ask for a pint of Fuller's London Pride ale and chips to fill my hungry stomach. Once I get my order, I walk next to the woman I noticed earlier and sit at the table right beside her.
As I drink a first sip of the fresh bronze liquid, I look up to the band. There are two men. First, I see the guitarist, the frontman. He is hot. He has my attention. His style is excellent, from his tight black jeans to the piercing on his lower lip. I look behind him, and the lad that walks to the drums is gorgeous. He wears a tank top of a famous rock band I know too barely about, and I notice his beautiful caramel locks. He is the one having all my attention now. I don't know if it's the rough, edgy style he has or the free spirit he awakes in me that draws me to him more.
I didn't quite catch what happened, but he laughed loudly enough for me to hear and be completely charmed by him. He can't stop smiling as dimples grow on his cheeks. Wow.
"Hey! Are you here for the band?" I hear the woman next to me say, clearly excited to meet another fan which I might just become.
I change my attention from the mesmerising drummer to the woman. I look at her quickly before bringing it back to the band setting up as they are now four on the stage. Her face seems vaguely familiar and bothers me a second as she speaks.
"I wasn't, but they caught my attention," I answer honestly, looking back at her quickly. I really can't shake that feeling.
"Aren't you the girl that came in to see Mr Wright earlier?" She replies, and it gets me looking right back at her. How could she know?
"Yes, I am..." I say as I recognise her as the woman at the front desk that greeted me and kept my luggage during what became a big fiasco.
"How did you end up here? It's a little far from the company." She asks as she leans on the table to get closer to me, visibly interested in talking to me.
"I have a room in the hotel next door. I wanted to let off some steam and get a drink. What are you doing here?"
"I live nearby, and my boyfriend is in the group." She brightly smiles and glances at the band for a second.
"Which one is he?" I mirror her smirk, praying it isn't the handsome drummer.
"Lucas, right there, the guitarist." She points me to the lip-pierced hot fellow.
"Wow, he is handsome," I say as it is a colossal understatement.
"Yeah... He is great."
"So, what is the band called?" I ask as I take a sip of my beer to hide behind and stare back at the curly one in the back.
"The SOS. There's my Lucas, the guitarist and lead vocals. Right next to him there's Caleb, the bassist and vocals. On the left, with the bleached hair, Mike also plays the guitar and sings. And behind the drums, it's Ashley. He sings too."
"Ashley, uh?" I can't stop looking at him as he notices my stare and smiles back at me.
My body is covered with chills as my cheeks blush. I'm too embarrassed. I look down, but curiosity and infatuation force me to look up so that our gazes lock again. I have never felt like this before. Nobody has ever made me feel like this before. What is happening?
"Yeah... I know it sounds like a girl's name, but it isn't so weird anymore when you know him. I just call him Ash." She says as she doesn't even notice how I begin to blush from the stare he and I share. It only breaks when she invites me to her table.
I drink the rest of my beer at once and excuse myself to walk to the bar to order myself and my new friend another pint. Then, I join her at her table and watch the boys leave the stage as their soundcheck is over. I am so expressively disappointed to see them go that she chuckles and instantly reassures me of their return.
"Oh, don't worry. The boys are on in twenty. They'll come back." She winks at me with a smirk before becoming more serious and turning her body to face me. "So? How did it go with Marcel?"
"Marcel?" I frown at her as I don't know who she is talking about.
"Marcel Wright, the son of the chief editor and owner of the company? You didn't seem very happy when you left. What happened?" She genuinely seems concerned, and that's why I feel so compelled to trust and confide in her.
"He's a jerk, and I turned down the offer." I let out and take a sip of the ale to calm the anger he rises in me. I am not usually this hateful. I seem to be another person today, more confident and direct. Plus, I don't usually make eyes with other men than my boyfriend. That has never happened before. I never was attracted like that to another man.
"What offer? A job?" She asks and takes a chip in my basket after silently proposing to her.
"No, for my book."
"He wanted to publish you?" She says, seemingly amazed, looking at me with her big hazel eyes.
"Yes, but I don't like being bullied." I let out, trying to think about something else than the wreck that happened today by eating the chips in front of me.
"Wow... He never likes anything. We barely publish any work of fiction in our books, but when we do, they are major hits, and it's all because of him. He is challenging to please. No one really likes him at the office. But don't take this the wrong way. If he likes your book, you are a goddess. We mostly publish biographies or non-fiction. It's not that we don't like fiction, but his mom writes fiction, so she prefers publishing other genres."
I frown and instantly regret my decision to walk away, but the memories of his cold gaze are enough to make me angry again, and I know I made the right decision. With school and work, I have no time for myself. I have no time to work on my book and all that it implies. Travelling to London is one of the issues. I am sad I passed on this opportunity, but I couldn't have worked with him under these circumstances.
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I said no, I won't be publishing my book with him."
"What? That sucks. I get that he is a jerk, but he is not the only person you would have worked with, there's a whole team behind it, and that's not counting the people that won't get to read your story."
She makes a valid point. I'm second-guessing myself. I think I regret the decision I made. Sophie is right, and I feel awful. I probably will not have had to work as closely with him --and hopefully not at all--, but it's too late.
"I didn't think about that... But he just began insulting me, and I didn't want to be a victim. I'm the hero of my own story." I try to convince myself and joke to lighten my mood.
"Yes, you are. I hope great things will happen to you then, with or without us at the company."
She smiles widely at me and takes big sips of her beer as I feel delighted to have made a friend on this mediocre day.
"Thank you very much. You are very kind. This might sound weird, but we haven't been introduced. I'm Grace." I offer her my hand as a formal sign of introduction.
"I'm Sophie." She smiles back at me, taking my hand into hers and shaking it softly. "Where are you from? If you have a room in a hotel, you mustn't be from around here."
"I'm from Manchester."
"Oh, nice! It's quite far, though. I've always loved to go there. I have family in Manchester."
"See? It's another point on why I'm OK with turning down the offer. It's quite far from home. The bus ride is six to seven hours to come here. But if you ever come to Manchester, you can text me at this number and come stay with me for a bit."
"Oh, that's so kind of you. Let me text you now so you can have my number too. The same applies to you if you ever come back." She offers back with the most genuine smile.
"Who in your family is living there?" I ask, taking the last chips from the basket and pushing them farther on our table.
"Uncle, aunt and cousin."
"Nice. What is your cousin's name? Maybe I know-"
I stop talking when the boys come back on stage, and Sophie applauses and cheers them. I join her as well as half the people in the pub. The lights are dim as the spotlights are on the band. I look around the crowd, and I am pleasantly surprised to see many more people, but the place is far from being crowded.
The sexy drummer starts the song with a rocky rhythm, and I'm surprised at how good they are. I like their sound. Lucas comes to the mic and starts to sing. His voice is pure silk. I was amazed by the band. They have a unique smooth classic rock sound. I love it. That's the kind of music I like. I will have to follow them closely.
"They are amazing!" I lean to Sophie's ear to tell her.
"I know, right?" She responds to me with the happiest grin.
I need to fight the urge inside every nerve in my body to keep me from dancing. It doesn't keep Sophie from moving in any way. She knows every lyric by heart, and it's so cute to see the little glances Lucas and her share.
More people got very interested in their music as they gathered closer to us at the front tables. In the corner of my eye, I see a forty-something-year-old male coming to the place I was sitting at when I first got in. It's weirdly close to me, but I don't make any case of it as long as the band keeps playing because all my attention is on them. If I'm honest, I'd say 75 pour cent of it is on the drummer, which can't get out of my sight for more than ten seconds.
I know I have Steeve waiting for me back home, but it's my only night in London and surely the only time I will get to see Ashley in my life. So why would I keep myself from enjoying looking at this gorgeous specimen banging his drums? Why would I look at something else than the veins popping out of his neck and his muscular arms as he plays some excellent music? I can see how much of himself he puts into his art. It's sexy.
They finish their song, take a short break, but announce they'll come back in a bit. Sophie immediately leaves me to get two pitchers of beer for the band and us before the next set. She leaves me at the table as I watch the band leave the stage to hide in the back.
I'm pretty excited for Sophie to return. If I've understood correctly, the boys will come to us. I get all giddy to think I may be talking to them, hoping to get Ashley's attention. He certainly got mine.
"Excuse me, Love. I couldn't help but notice you dancing." The old man says to me, barely audible, leaning towards me, his breath reeking alcohol.
I don't say anything, but I'm instantly disgusted. I content myself to smile shyly and nod since I had already made eye contact, and it was too late to ignore him. I wasn't dancing!
"So?" He leans closer between our tables as I try to look back to see if Sophie is coming back anytime soon. "Are you with the band? A groupie?"
"Excuse me?" I let out as his smirk grew wider on his lips, showing the damage to his teeth, probably from cigarettes or even drugs. I am terrified of him and his intentions. What is happening? Who would say something like that?!
"Did I say how hot you are?" He emphasises as he looks down at my body, and I try to step away, sliding my chair on the floor. "I live nearby. Do you want to come?"
I frown in fear of what is happening. This is the first time somebody is hitting on me in a bar, and I hate it. I find myself hoping Steeve would have been here with me, like he always is, keeping me from having these kinds of encounters. He would have had his arm around my waist as dominant as he always becomes.
Being with him for more than four years makes me a bit lost and scared when I'm not with him. I've seemed to grow dependent on his presence as it is so accustomed to me. Not having him in my shadow this time makes it hard for me to adapt as I'm feeling very destabilised and scared by the unwanted presence of the drunk next to me. It's barely 10 PM.
"She isn't interested." Somebody next to me says before I can look up.
"Are you her boyfriend or something like that?" The drunk arrogantly lets out, looking up at the tall figure standing next to me.
The stranger puts his hand protectively on my back, and that's why I don't freak out about yet another man getting too close. The heat his hand radiates comforts me as it seems like a sweet gesture of affection if I had known him.
"Yeah, something like that." The confident voice next to me responds quickly and throws ten pounds on the table before the man. "Go buy yourself another pint at the bar and get away from her."
The arrogant man is visibly more attracted to the money than his pride. He takes it in a heartbeat and walks away from the table. My saviour takes a chair and pulls it next to mine.
I find myself attracted to seeing his face as a few seconds have passed since he first got here, and I didn't get the chance to glance at him. I find my gaze locked again with the curly drummer, but he is only a few inches from me this time.
I get lost looking into his eyes, which I notice are a beautiful and weird mix of green and hazel. They look right back at mine with a satisfied smirk on their owner's lips.
"Thanks for this." I talk to the magnificent creature smiling at me from so close it's overwhelming.
"I think you could have dealt with him on your own, but it just gave me an excuse to come talk to you." He smiles, and small dimples dig his cheeks adorably.
"Then I'm glad..." I murmur as I willingly flirt back, but I know that that's all this will be.
"Ash! I see you've met Grace. She's a new fan. I am finally not alone!" She jokes as she puts the pitches of beer on the table, and I see the three other lads coming to join us.
"So? Grace. Is AC/DC your favourite band?" He smirks at me, his gaze sliding to my shirt a second.
"It's not actually... I'm more of a big fan of Bon Jovi or QUEEN, but I still like them. I'm a sucker for the Stones too." I admit proudly, and I can't seem to look away from the growing smile on his pulpy pink lips.
"Wow, she fits right in with us." I turn my head to notice Lucas and the two other band members sitting around our tiny round table to serve themselves some beer.
"What are your favourite bands?" I ask them out of curiosity.
"Green Day."
"Nirvana."
"Red Hot Chili Peppers."
"Bon Jovi is great, but I listen to all of them..." Ashley admits as he takes the glass. Mike hands him and takes a sip.
"What about you, babe?" Lucas asks Sophie.
"You know my favourite band is you guys." She cheesily says as her boyfriend takes her in his arms to kiss her forehead quickly.
"So, what brought you here tonight?" Ashley turns to me and asks as I feel his gaze burning my skin from our proximity.
"I had a crappy day, and I wanted to change my mind." I look at him with a slight smile on my lips because the cold face of Mr Wright comes back to haunt me to ruin my fun. Sophie explains how I've had an awful day from what she knows and the marvel of the destiny that made our paths cross again. I rest my head in the palm of my hand. I listen to her and her day at work and find myself lost in my thoughts. My eyes scan randomly through the bar, but nothing catches my attention until my sights set on Ashley next to me.
Once I realise I have been staring, I zone out of my trance and look away, trying to pay attention to the stories Sophie shares, but I can't seem to be succeeding as Ashley is the one on my mind. Why is he distracting me so much? I mean, I have just met the guy. I know nothing about him, literally. It's not even about his beauty, but there's something about him that attracts me. I'm genuinely captivated by him, but I don't want nor won't pursue it as I'm happy with Steeve... Our goals are different, and our personalities are so not similar that I don't get how it can work, but it does, and it has been for four almost five years. We met in school. We've grown together all of our lives, but he was the cool, friendly, popular kid, and I was the small weird kid he picked on. I remember him teasing me all of my childhood until our graduating year when I dyed my natural ginger hair.
My hair has always been significant insecurity for me. I was the only ginger in my group of friends, for the few I had, and the other kids, including Steeve, were making fun of me, asking me if I was a leprechaun and all that shit because I also have a small height, which I grew to embrace. So now, my hair has been blonde for five years.
Somehow, Steeve stopped picking on me when I started that. He turned against his friends, trying to make them understand they were disrespectful to me. He has been protecting me since then. I like to think the lion fell in love with the lamb, but that's just me and my overly romantic side.
Like I was saying, we are two different types of people. He is all about working out and sports, and I'm the lazy potato that studies all the time and brings Nando's take away after my shift. One thing we have in common, though, is our love for their mashed potatoes. And sex. We love sex. He is at his most affectionate when we make love. And that's the Steeve I love most.
As I'm thinking about him, I feel my phone vibrating in my tight jeans. I slide my chair back and put my hand absentmindedly on Ashley's back to whisper to his ear.
"I'll be back in a minute."
I get up, and I'm glad my hand rests on something because I feel a lot woozier than I thought I would be. The pub seems to be turning a second before I decide to take a step forward. Once I'm alright, I walk quickly away from our table and, finally, away from the whole pub that has become quite loud. I push the door from which I came in and get out in the fresh air of early spring.
"Hello?"
"Is this Grace Hemingway?" I get very quickly that it isn't my boyfriend calling me as I thought.
I frown at the voice on the other end of the line and look at my screen. It's 10:23 PM. Who could be calling me at this time of night? I look at the number. It's a number from London and not from Manchester. Who could this be?
"Yeah... This is she." I try my best to respond to the polite greeting formally.
"Hi, this is... Marcel Wright from Wright Books. How are you?"
I look at my phone again and begin to pace, pacing back and forth in front of the pub. What does he want? Why is he calling me? And at this hour?
"Honestly, I'm doing fine, a bit drunk, but fine." I let out, completely not caring about what he might say back to me or if he judges me at all.
It helps that he is only a couple of years older than me. If it had been a full-grown adult with lots of experience, never would I've had the guts to say half the things I said to him today.
"It's OK. So am I." He only responds, and I'm definitely surprised, but it also fuels me.
"Why would you even call me? Have you seen the time?" I lash out loudly, getting unrequested attention in the street.
"I'm sorry. I just can't get your story out of my head." I hear him sigh, and my heart sinks to my heels. Why? I have no clue.
"Why?" I whisper and press my phone closer to my ear.
"I like your way of seeing the world. It's so naive and pure."
"Thanks..." I spit out arrogantly.
"It was meant as a compliment."
"Continue..." I calm down but stand behind my guard.
"Your descriptions are so precise and clear. You convey your emotions so beautifully. It's impossible not to feel them back." He sweetly says as I don't recognise the man acting so cold in front of me earlier. How could they be the same person?
"Thank you..." I smile briefly at his kind words, and it fades to face back the doubts and my guard towards him.
"You know... I never do that." He sighs again, murmuring every word.
"What? Apologise?" I poke my tongue out and smirk in satisfaction at my joke.
"No... You think you are funny?"
"Mm-hmm..."
"Anyway, I just want another chance. Meet me tomorrow for brunch."
"OK. But you have to come to pick me up, and it needs to be quick."
"Alright. That works for me. I'm great with quick and effective."
"Great, then, but don't you dare put up your jerk act again, or you'll find me walking away again."
"I'm not a jerk." He retorts as soon as I'd stopped talking.
"God! You are already making me regret this. I'm ending this conversation right now before I get mad at you. Thank you! I'll text you the address of my hotel. Have a good night. Sweet dreams. And I have nothing more to say to you. Goodbye."