Girl, tell me what you're doing on the other side
And so, just tell me what you're doing with that other guy
'Cause I ain't got patience
To slow down the bass
All your girlfriends are wasted
They need it, they chase
Face it
You want it, you crave it
Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it
Song: Friends, by Chase Atlantic
***
2019, October, 1st - tuesday |7:30am
Aster's PO.V.:
The trip to Washington is tomorrow, which means I have a lot to do today. I'll have to leave everything as organized as possible, making sure the interns and the rest of the legal crew will have all they need till next week, so they won't contact me while I'm away.
Even though the fact Harry is coming along was as complete buzzkill, I'm still excited about the trip. After all, PTS is the biggest and most important fair of the pharmacy industry so besides a lot of networking, I'll also be able to attend a lot of lectures and presentations concerning the market and chemical process, which not only will be great for my education, but I'm also pretty sure Harry won't want to join.
I mean, I simply can't see him enjoying a three-hour long lecture about new medicine discoveries. Just saying.
Anyways, I've decided to come a little bit earlier to work, but there was an accident on Joe DiMaggio Highway, which got me stuck in a terrible traffic and seriously moody as I'm parking my car only 15 minutes before the official working hours.
So moody, I decided to come to the deli across the street from S&L and buy a vegan donut, even though it's been months since I'd last craved for sweets. And considering I already lost one entire hour of my morning stuck in traffic, I might as well just sit here and enjoy my donut, instead of taking it to go as I would usually do.
After ordering the donut and a coffee at the balcony, I turn on the high heels of my shoes, looking around to find a booth, but everything is taken. Seems like I'll have to eat at my office desk again, after all--
My eyes stops in one of the booths, my subconscious recognizing him before I realize. Abel is sitting alone, a tall cup of coffee on the table in front of him, and even though we're indoors, he is wearing sunglasses. Before I can regret the decision, I walk towards him, cleaning my throat when I'm close enough, but he doesn't look up.
"Excuse me, good morning." I try to sound cheerful, but it sounds so fake that I end up cringing. "Abel? Can I sit here with you? All the other booths are taken."
He snaps his face up, turning it towards me - I can't see his eyes behind the dark lenses of his glass. Without saying a word, he just nods, then turns his attention back to the phone in his hand.
"Thank you." I sit across him, fishing the phone from my bag so I can distract myself. Abel clearly doesn't want to talk and I'm not so friendly myself.
Five minutes of awkward silence later, the waitress brings me my order, placing it on the table between us. Thanking her, I look up to grab my donut, at the same time Abel reaches for his cup and I realize his knuckles are busted, the crimson red blood still glistening, indicating the wounds are fresh.
"That looks painful." I comment, not because I want to make conversation, but because maybe this is a good opportunity to try and find out something about whatever shady shit Harry does with him and Rickie.
"It is." Abel answers shortly.
"You know, there's a ward at S&L, maybe you should go there and ask them to fix your hand." I try to sound pleasant. "I can take you there--"
"No, thanks." He cuts me, and even though he is wearing glasses, I could swear he is rolling his eyes.
God, I wish he was Rickie.
Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes too, looking away from the idiotic arrogant in front of me. He is just like Harry, enerving and uncalled for.
"Aster?" A familiar voice calls me and when I turn my head to see who is calling, a large smile forms on my lips.
Tim.
Looking gorgeous as ever with black suit and a light blue dress shirt. Simple, discreet and effective, unlike certain types of people. He has a to-go package and a single purple aster flower in his hands.
"Hey, Tim!" I scoot over on the booth. "Come sit with us." I add, throwing a bratty glance to Abel.
I mean, I could just grab my things and follow Tim outside, but it sounds more fun to just annoy Abel a little bit.
"Oh, sure." Tim sits down by my side, a little closer than necessary but it doesn't bother me. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine, how are you?" My smile gets larger when I hear Abel huffing.
"I'm good. Hey, mate." Tim turns his gaze to Abel, who just nods without even looking up from his phone. "Not a morning person, I see." He adds and Abel ignores him completely.
What a douche!
Tim seems unfazed, though. He turns his head back to me, his cheeks suddenly getting flustered when his eyes falls to the flower in his hand.
"These are actually for you." He says, timidly, his gorgeous British smile making the words to sound even better. "It's a little have a nice trip kind of gift." He adds. "I know you love the muffin they have here... And did you know this flower is called aster too?"
"I did know that." This time, my smile has nothing to do with the annoyed guy sitting across the table. "You didn't have to, though. It's so lovely."
"Oh, it's nothing." He dismisses it with a smile. "It's just a wish of success, I'm hoping everything will go amazingly well."
"Maybe when I got back, we could have that date you suggested the other day." I blurt out, my mouth working faster than my brain and speaking what I've been thinking about ever since I left Harry alone in Maddie's room last Friday.
The idea of going out with Tim always seemed completely insane for me, just because he is a co-worker and I really don't like mixing pleasure with business. But lately, I've been thinking, and it might not be as terrible as I've anticipated - I mean, where else will I know a nice guy to maybe have a relationship with? Certainly not Pandemonium, that's for sure.
Not that I'm looking for a relationship, but if I have someone like Tim in my life - a person I can work on some kind of connection besides sex, then maybe I will be able to resist Harry. Because everytime we kiss, it doesn't matter if I'm the one to walk away, I always find myself hanging and wanting more. And that's something I simply can't afford.
I'll be brutal.
Every time his words crosses my mind, I have to clench my legs together, memories of how he touches me and kisses me keeping me up at night, all the things I want to do with him making me whimper even when I'm alone.
I simply can't let him control me like that.
"Really?" Tim's radiant voice calls me back to reality. "Oh, that's so nice. So... You're packing tonight, I suppose."
"Tonight?!" I chuckle. "No, actually I've already packed."
"Oh, there's a fantastic place nearby that I would love to take you. What do you think?" He wiggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.
I mean, I shouldn't. I was planning to go to bed early and get ready for tomorrow, when the S&L's car comes to pick me up and take me to the airport, at 6am. But now that I'm thinking about it, considering I'm going to make a 4 days trip with Harry, maybe I should blow off some steam before getting stuck with him in a hotel for so long.
"I would love to." I finally agree, and Tim almost blinds me with a bright smile. He is very handsome.
I've never went out on a date with someone this older than me, this might be something interesting. I mean, I've probably fucked older guys at Pandemonium, but that doesn't count - this is going to be an actual date.
"Great!" Tim vibrates with a large smile. "I'll pick you up around 8, is that OK? This way we can go home and change to some comfortable clothes."
I open my mouth to answer, but before I do, Abel is standing up. Quietly, he throws 5 dollars over the table, mumbling a see ya under his breath and turning his back to walk away.
"Such a ray of sunshine, this fella." Tim comments and I giggle, shaking my head. "You saw his hands? No wonder why he was in such a bad mood."
"Tell me about it." I roll my eyes.
We engage on a light conversation, mostly talking about what we did during the weekend and commenting on the last episode of Masterchef that was aired on Sunday. After I finish my donut and coffee, we leave the coffee house, taking the elevator together. Even though we've been lunching together for a few weeks now, I suggested today we don't, so we can "save it" all to our date tonight, to which Tim complied with a smirk filled with second intentions.
"Good morning!" I greet people on my floor with a large smile, completely incapable of holding it back. They all look at me with a puzzled look on their faces, probably wondering what has gotten into me, but I don't care.
I have a date tonight. With Timothy Mother-Fucking Jones.
I mean, after tonight I sure hope he will be Timothy Aster-Fucking Jones.
Giggling to myself, I shake my head, opening the door to my office and stepping in. And the smile vanishes from my lips the moment the door closes behind me and I see who is sitting on my chair, arms folded in front of him, wearing violet pants and a t-shirt that shows all the tattoos on his arms.
I feel like I should be pissed that he manage to enter my office before me, but at this point I can't even say that I'm surprised.
"Oh, Honeycup, good to see you." Harry straightens his posture, not giving me the chance to ask what the fuck is he doing in my office as he keeps talking. "I have a few things about our trip I would like to go over with you, but I've been up all night and need to get some sleep first, let's say dinner at 8?"
What?
"I'm not having dinner with you, Harry." I roll my eyes, closing my mouth that has fallen slack open. "Whatever you want to "go over" about the trip" I raise my hands to make air quotations "We can talk on the plane tomorrow, or at lunch maybe, considering the fair only starts Thursday."
"No, I would really prefer to talk to you at 8. Give me your address and I'll pick you up." He says matter-of-factly, his eyes glued to me and watching every movement I make.
Sighing, I peel my arms off of the black blazer I'm wearing, hanging it smoothly in the hanger behind my office, then placing my bag right next to it.
"I have plans tonight, Harry. We can talk tomorrow, on the plane."
"So what? Cancel them." He states arrogantly, now dragging his eyes from my face to my feet and then back up, sucking his bottom lip when his gaze falls back to mine.
I fish my phone from inside the bag, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself down. I was in such a good mood, I won't let Harry ruin it with his cocky attitude that doesn't even make sense right now. After getting my shit together, I walk towards my desk, stopping right in front of him and looking down, with my chin raised.
He looks up at me, somehow managing to look dominant and at ease even though I'm the one standing and towering over him.
"I won't cancel my plans just because you decided you want to have dinner with me tonight." I roll my eyes. "Now come on, get out of here, I have work to do."
Harry stands up suddenly, his body brushing against mine from how close he is and he towers over me, the intoxicating smell of his cologne hitting me all at once. His eyes are glued to mine and he has a stern expression on his face that I'm definitely not understanding. I take a step back, trying to create some distance between us and have my brain functioning at full capacity again.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, as if battling with himself about his next words. This is so odd, what is wrong with him?
"What?" The question escapes my lips and I frown.
"I don't think you should go out with Jones tonight." He says sharply, knitting his eyebrows together.
Oh, so that's what his little tantrum is about.
"Oh, it would be such a problem to me if I actually gave a fuck about what you think." I answer him dryly, circling his body so I can sit back on my chair, but Harry grabs my bicep, keeping me up and still.
"I mean it, Aster. I don't trust that guy."
"You don't trust him?" I raise my eyebrows, trying to jerk away from his touch, but he is gripping me hard. "Why? And how do you even know I'm going out with him tonight?"
Harry opens his mouths, then closes it, not making a sound. He presses his lips together to a thin line and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
"Abel." He says dismissively. "I just don't trust the guy, OK?"
"No, not OK. There has to be a reasonable explanation, otherwise what you're saying doesn't make any sense." I insist and his fingers sink deeper in my arm, a sting of pain making me whimper. "You're hurting me."
The words barely falls from my mouth and Harry is letting go of my arm as if my skin just burnt his. "Sorry." He murmurs.
"What is it, Harry?" I raise my eyebrows, pinning my eyes on his, our gazes gluing together like magnets.
He keeps silent for a few more minutes, never breaking eye contact but not giving me an explanation either. I can see in his eyes that he is fighting with the words, hundreds of emotions flashing one after another. He has dark circles under his eyes, and even though he looks good as always, he also looks tired.
"Something doesn't feel right about him, s'all." He finally says, his lips turning to an upside down smile. "I don't like him, and I don't think you should see him outside of work."
"Well, Harry, thank you for the amazingly helpful insight, but I think I'll pass." I tell him, shaking my head and sighing. "Now if you could please excuse me, I have a lot to do."
Harry doesn't move, still standing right beside my desk and for the stern look on his face it doesn't seem like he is ready to give up, so I decide to simply ignore him. Sitting on my chair, I turn it to the table, opening the MacBook and typing the password for my account. I login to my email, opening the "to-do" list I saved in my drafts yesterday.
First thing on the list is to review a new campaign idea the marketing department selected from our creative agency and see if it's fitting with the company objectives and also if it doesn't break any law. I double click on the presentation attached, waiting for it to open...
... Which doesn't happen because Harry shoves my laptop shut, his hand plastered on the top of if.
"What the fuck?" I squeal, looking up and shooting daggers at him.
"I don't want you to go." He states effectively.
Is he... Jealous?
The idea sounds so absurd, it almost makes me laugh to his face. Harry doesn't strike me as the jealous kind, specially considering we have nothing going on between us, and even though we've fooled around a few times, he always made it very clear he can't stand me or my personality. Whatever that we have going on between us when we're alone, its purely physical.
"Listen, Harry, this might be a little surprising for you, but I don't give a fuck about what you want." I speak firmly, keeping my voice down and somewhat cold. "I don't know if this alpha male bullshit is because we fooled around a few times, but cut it out. You have no right to act jealous towards me."
"Jealous?" Harry scoffs. "Oh, honey, believe me, I am not jealous."
"Oh, no? So why do you care so much?" I raise my eyebrows defiantly.
"I don't care." Harry says stubbornly. "I'm just saying, there's something odd about this guy and I'm telling you, as your affiliate, that I don't want you to be near him."
"You don't want?" I hiss between my teeth. "Fuck what you want, Harry. Hate breaking it to you, but I'm not your property."
Harry inhales deeply and circles my desk again, grabbing the back of my chair and spinning it so now I'm facing him. He leans down and over me, only stopping when his face is so close I can feel his humid breath fanning on my skin. His eyes are intense, locked into mine and burning holes in my head. The air vanishes from my lungs immediately, the sudden proximity of his body making it hard to breathe. I try to look away so I can regain my control, but Harry grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping my head still.
"I'm not saying you're my property, Honeycup." He rasps, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I'm saying you should keep distance from him." He gets even closer, his nose brushing against mine.
I inhale a sharp breath, all red alarms going off on my mind, but I'm paralyzed, the only movement being the fast pace of my heart. Damn it, I hate that he gets me so easily under his spell. I part my lips, waiting for his kiss, but Harry darts his face in the last second, ghosting his lips over my cheeks and past my jawline till he reaches for my neck.
My face is almost touching his chest, the pearls of his collars hanging right in front of my eyes, the vanilla-y scent of his cologne filling my nostrils, the tobacco notes stronger than usual, indicating that he was smoking before. Goosebumps raises all over my skin when he brushes his lips on my ear and I exhale, only now noticing I was holding my breath.
"And as for owning you, princess" He pauses, hissing between his teeth. "When I decide you're mine, I know exactly what to do to ruin you to others."
My body's response to his words is immediate, a spark igniting in my blood and throughout my entire body till the heat between my legs, and I clench my thighs together to try and ease the sudden ache there. My cheeks gets warm, the skin somewhat rigid with the sudden flow of blood that's making me blush.
Harry huffs, slowly moving his face back so he can look at me, and it takes me everything I got to look away and rise both my hands, plastering them on his chest and pushing him away.
My actions take him by surprise and he takes a step back, raising his eyebrows. Even though my breathing is fastened, I keep my voice down and as firm as I can manage.
"Thank you for your input, Harry, but you're mistaken." Spinning on my chair again, I turn my body to the laptop, opening it again. "Please, close the door when you leave."
Harry stays still for a couple of minutes, and I can feel the anger irradiating from his body. He takes a deep breath and I keep my eyes glued to my laptop's screen, waiting for his next action as I hold to my last drop of self-control.
Suddenly, he moves, but instead of trying to convince me again or touching me in any way, Harry just walks away, shouting the door open and bagging it behind him as he steps off of my office and leave me alone.
I let go a breath I didn't even realize I was holding, and look down to my shaking hands. That was close.
Seems like Tim is helping me avoid Harry without even needing to actually distract me with his full lips and nice body.
***
Albeit I've insisted, Tim didn't tell me where he was taking me tonight, and when I argued that I need to know which kind of clothes I should wear, he said I should just go comfortable. But I've had enough first dates to know guys like to impress, especially when they know from what family I come from. Considering Tim has been in my place before, I thought he probably expects me to be the type of woman who wants a big, fancy dinner at some overpriced restaurant.
And hey, don't get me wrong - I can be that kind of woman, I do like fancy food, but it's Tuesday night and I have an early flight tomorrow morning. Besides, Tim and I are always together at a professional environment, so I thought it would be nice to go to a place we can relax and talk to each other without the pressure of a meal course that needs more than one type of silverware to be eaten.
And let me tell you, I was not disappointed when he picked me up at my place, in an Uber, wearing a combination of jeans, boots and a t-shirt. I even felt a little overdressed with my tight black dress, black tights and Doc Martens boots, but as Maddie always used to say, it's better to be over than underdressed, so I guess that's OK.
Going against all odds and giving me a nice surprise, Tim ended up bringing me to a rather underground pub. Being only Thursday night, it's not crowded, and looks like he has been here before, considering the bartender greeted him by the name, then gave me a once over before winking at Tim, which I found a little disgusting, but let it pass. The space consists in one big, long room divided into two semi-separate spaces where there's pool tables, booths all around the corners, while the bar is up front. There's a low rock music playing on the speakers, soft neon lights scattered here and there, creating an eerie mood. It's tiny and the complete opposite that I was imagining this night to be, but I won't lie, it's kinda thrilling to be in such a different place.
Tim took off his leather jacket the moment we entered the pub, taking my black overcoat along and tucking them both under his arm. We sat on a booth and drank craft beer while eating spicy vegan "wings" - made out of cauliflower - and talking about our childhood. I've never imagined myself eating with my hands in a first date - well, honestly, not even in the hundreth -, but Tim managed to make me so comfortable it didn't even bothered me.
By the third beer I already know everything about his childhood - he was born in Hammersmith, a nice district in London. He only moved to New York after graduating in King's College London, leaving his family behind - but he still visits his mother every year for Christmas. I was taken aback when he said he was married once, during his early twenties, but it didn't work out and he ended up divorced before his 30th birthday.
It's quite exhilarating to know how much more experienced than me he is, I'm completely fascinated in knowing more about him and everything he has been through before entering S&L staff 8 years ago. He has been through so much, it's crazy.
"I feel like I've been talking all night." He chuckles, his raspy voice laced with the beautiful British accent that is getting thicker and thicker to each bottle of beer he washes down. "Tell me about you, how was College?"
"Oh, you know, the usual." I roll my eyes playfully. "Studied a lot, graduated a semester earlier, fulfilled the life-long dream of becoming a lawyer." I can't keep the sarcasm from my voice, but luckily Tim chuckles.
"No, I don't wanna know the clean version." He teases his tongue between his teeth, a naughty smile playing on his lips. "Give me the dirty stuff."
I scoff inside of my cup, almost choking on the beer, but luckily I manage to swallow it without any further accidents, shaking my head slightly.
I mean, it was during college that I became such a regular at Pandemonium, but this is not the kind of thing a person should drop in their first date - again, maybe not even in the hundreth, let's be realistic. This is the kind of stuff that usually scares the guys away, thinking that I'm some kind of nymphomaniac Dominatrix sex addict, when it actually just means I like sex enough to know that I want and when I want it.
"What?" Tim raises his eyebrows, his smile getting wider. "I'm sensing something wild, what is it?" He winks.
"Oh, not too much out of the ordinary, really." I decide to play it safe, at least for now. "Went to a few frat parties, fooled around with obnoxious frat boys, tried marijuana. The usual... I'm actually kinda boring, aren't I?" I giggle.
"Not at all." He winks. "But I feel like you're holding yourself back."
"I'm really not." I smile, raising my eyebrows and looking around, trying to find something to distract him from the subject. "I mean, I didn't even learn how to play pool during college, isn't it enough proof of how boring I'm?"
"No fucking way!" He rolls his head back, laughing openly. "No, there's no way you don't know how to play snooker."
I shrug, biting my tongue. I may not know how to play pool, Tim, but I've learned how to deep throat in my third semester.
But of course I won't tell him that.
Maybe if he was Harry, by this time I would be actually showing him my abilities by now, considering we can't stay in the same room for more than 5 minutes without fighting or making out.
Ugh, stop it, Aster. Now is not the time to think about that other stupid British.
An idea pops to my mind and I flutter my eyelashes to Tim, a crooked smile cracking up my lips. "Well, it's never too late to learn." I wiggle my eyebrows, throwing a gaze to the pool table next to us then back to Tim.
He grins, wrinkles sinking around his eyes in a very mature, sexy way, and before I realize he is standing up and gesturing something to the bartender. He circles the booth, turning his open palm to me. Gulping down the last sip of my beer, I place my hand inside of his, letting him pull me up.
His hand is not as big as Harry's, but it's chunkier and more calloused. He wears a single square ring on his index finger, and it's very sexy.
Tim guides me to the pool table, grabbing two pool cues. The bartender reaches us, putting the multicolored balls on the table and handling Tim two new bottles of cold beer. He nods to me before turning on the heels of his sneakers and leaving us alone again. There's two guys playing in the other pool table, but they're so concentrated on their game that it feels like Tim and I are the only ones here.
Tim gives me one of the beer and we cheer it, eyes locked together, and for the first time tonight, my stomach flutters, actual excitement shooting through my veins. Even though I'm definitely attracted to him, I haven't been nervous till this moment, but it's a nice and welcome change.
I watch while Tim organize the balls over the table, using a plastic triangle to put them all together at one end, then placing the white ball in the other end, aligned with the triangle. He handles me one pool cue.
"So, should I give you the basics or do you already know?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
"I know the theory." I giggle and he nods, turning his body and leaning his large torso over the table, still gazing at me.
"It's not difficult." He starts, straightening his arm over the table and placing the middle of the pool cue between his thumb and index finger. "Roughly, all you have to do it smash the white ball and pocket all the balls. The red ones scores 1 point, and the other colours scores the numbers they have imprinted. The player who scores the bigger number, wins."
"Quite simple." I smile, taking a sip from the cold beer and loving how raw it tastes. "So who goes first?"
"Always the ladies." He winks at me, stepping aside to give me space.
"Hmm, bit of a sexist, aren't we?" I tease, placing the beer bottle on the table's edge and throwing Tim a knowing look. I feel that other Aster is fighting to emerge ever since we step foot inside of this bar, and I think maybe now it's time to let her play a little bit - specially after almost four beers.
He shrugs. "I'm just trying to be a gentleman."
"I see." Leaning over the table, I mimic Tim's position from before, perfectly aware my dress is still covering my ass, but barely. Looking over my shoulder, I catch the exact moment Tim is discreetly trying to gaze what is underneath the fabric.
I clean my throat loudly and he snaps his eyes back to my face, a snarky smile on his lips. I roll my eyes playfully, incapable of biting down a smirk before I turn my eyes back to the ball on the table in front of me, making the first hit.
The first game goes smoothly, but even though I'm terrible at it, I win. Tim was obviously holding his game, purposely missing balls and playing it dumb when I committed some kind of fault. By the end of the first round, we're both starting the sixth beer of the night and I'm feeling pleasantly buzzed.
"One more game?" Tim asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
"One condition." I step closer to him, pool cue still at hand, tucking myself between him and the pool table, getting so close he has to look down to look at me. "This time you're going to actually teach me how to hold the stick, so you won't have to be gentle with me while we play." My lips tug up on a flirty smile and I softly brush my hips on his leg as I step away, making sure of letting my intentions clear.
Tim frowns, taking a big sip from his beer with his eyes pinned on me, and the way his bicep pops gets me clenching my thighs together.
I mean, I always see him at work, even had him over to dinner, but something about this whole ambiance and the fact we're actually on a date here makes me look at him differently, and suddenly I feel thirsty.
Putting the bottle down to the edge of the table, Tim rearranges the balls to the same triangle as before. Then, he straightens his back. "Come here." He states, stepping aside to open space for me.
I left my bottle beside his, going in front of him and turning on the heels of my boots so I can lean over the pool table, the pool cue in hand. His body is warm behind me, and I look over my shoulder with sly eyes. "Aren't going to teach me, Tim?" I ask teasingly.
He smirks, stepping closer to me, his body finally touching mine, exactly where his center meets my ass. He is firm and strong, and I really enjoy the way he feels pressed behind me. He leans his torso over my back, running one hand to the extent of my arm, his blunt nails softly dragging on my skin and making me shiver. His hand meets mine and he uses his other arm to circle my body and grab the stick on my hand.
"Here" He rasps on the shell of my ear, and presses his body further. "Hold the stick, like this." He grabs my fingers and circles them around the pool cue, closing his hand over mine to maneuver it. "Just hold it firmly.... Yeah. You gotta good grip." He whispers and the little hair of his growing beard brushes on my neck, making me shiver and squirm under him. "You need to stay firm." He scolds me, his other hand going to the curve of my waist and he holds me still. "Got it?"
"Yeah." I pant, kinda expecting him to tease me a little more, maybe thrusting his hips forward a bit, but instead, he straightens his back, circling the table again so he is standing in front of me, but across the table. "Now do as I showed you."
I bite my bottom lip, sucking it inside of my mouth, lingering my eyes on his for a little longer than necessary before turning my attention back to the balls in front of me and hitting them with the stick, just like he teached me, and to my surprise it goes way better than what I was doing before.
The second round goes better, mainly because this time Tim is not holding himself back. Every time he gets past me, he brushes his hand on mine, or his hips on mine, but in a way that is very, very lowkey. It is driving me crazy, and for the second time this night I imagine what would happen if Harry was the one here.
He would probably be fucking me over this table right now.
Shit, I have to stop thinking about him.
When I decide you're mine, I know exactly what to do to ruin you to others.
Such a cocky motherfucker. Who does he think he is? He actually thinks he has some kind of control over me.
But he doesn't.
With that in mind, I circle the table again. There's only one ball left, and it's my turn again. So taking a deep breath, I go to Tim again, raising my eyebrows and actually pouting my lips.
"I really don't want to mess it up. Help me?"
"I thought I was supposed to be your opponent in this game." He smirks, but immediately steps closer. He is not very tall, but I'm so short he still manages to tower over me.
"I'm still learning." I argue, creasing my eyebrows. "Please?"
"What do I get in return?" He raises his eyebrows, getting even closer and trapping my body between his arms as he palms on the edge of the table. He is so close now I can see all the details on his handsome face.
I look down to his lips, my eyes lingering there for a few seconds before I drag my eyes up again. My moves are calculated and I keep my mind cool as I get on the tip of my toes, almost brushing my lips on his before I dart to his ear. "Guess you'll have to find out." I whisper, softly ghosting my teeth on his earlobe.
Tim groans under his breath, his chest vibrating. With a swift movement that actually surprises me, he grabs my hips and spins me, then presses his center on my ass and oh--
He is hard.
"Take this." He rasps to my ear, handling me the pool cue I almost dropped with his sudden movement. I do as he say and he places one hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me forwards so I lean over the stick, mimicking the position he teached me a couple of minutes prior.
Taking a deep breath, I hit the ball, but the proximity of his body and the way he is pressing me against this table is too much to handle and I get so distracted I miss the 8-ball by far.
"Shit." I mumble under my breath. I just want this game to end so I can start another one.
"Screw this." Tim mutters, spinning me again and smashing hips lips on mine before I could even catch a breath.
His lips are so full, they feel soft as a pillow, a nice contradiction to how hard his fingers are gripping my flesh. He smells like beer and musky cologne, it's a nice combination, the rough growing beard scratching my face. I kiss him back, brushing our lips together, and he hums, teasing his tongue on my lips and I invite him in.
The kiss gets deeper and more heated. I shoot my arms up, wrapping them around his neck, our tongues circling together, bodies pressed against each other. A little whimper falls from my lips when he gently pushes his hips forward, brushing his obvious hard on on me.
It's a really, really good kiss. The way his tongue circles around mine, how his lips feels brushing against mine, how firm is his tight grip on my hips. He obviously knows what he is doing, but deep down, I feel like there's something missing.
There's no spark when our skin touch each other. My heart is beating fast but it's not racing. He is an amazing kisser, but he doesn't feel exactly how I wanted him to feel.
But that's OK. I can work on that.
Breaking from the kiss, I bite down his bottom lip and Tim groans, the hand that was gripping my hip travelling to my back and he press me harder against his chest. I moan and he darts his head to my neck, sucking the skin softly - enough to make me shiver, not enough to leave a mark.
Take that, Harry.
No. Stop.
I flutter my eyes slightly open, and for a second my heart skips a beat when I see a familiar silhouette leaning against the bar.
The dreads are almost unmistakable, and I'm pretty sure it's Abel. Acting out of pure instinct, I push Tim's chest, making him take a step back as I squint my eyes, trying to see better, but the person, whoever he or she was, is gone.
Maybe I'm imagining things.
"Is everything OK?" Tim asks, creasing his eyebrows.
I look back at him, his normally full lips even fuller, swollen with the kiss. "Yeah, it's just... This is a public place and all." I giggle, nervously, looking around, but there's definitely no one with dreads in this pub. Maybe I'm going crazy.
Tim smirks, then buries his face back to my neck and grabs my earlobe between his teeth, then rasps to my ear. "Wanna go to my place? It's close."
Oh. Very straight to the point I see.
I bite my lip. I mean, I shouldn't. It's past midnight and tomorrow I'll have to be up at 5, and even though I'm used to wake up this soon, I usually go to bed around 10pm. But, in the other hand, I'm going to a trip with Harry tomorrow, and I really need to keep distance from him. So maybe I kinda need Tim right now.
Last but not least, Tim is a really good kisser. And hot too.
"Hmm..." I hum, trying to buy me sometime while I mentally debate what I should or shouldn't do. And then, the solution forms miraculously in my mind. "Do you mind going to my place instead? I know it's not so close but tomorrow I have to be up real early, and it would be better if--"
"Your place is fine." Tim smiles, giving me a long, open-mouthed kiss before taking a step back and intertwining our fingers together to pull me to our booth.
He grabs our coats, helping me dress mine before he puts his leather jacket, and less than 2 minutes later we're saying our goodbyes to the bartender and stepping out of the pub, the cold nocturn air hitting my face.
"What's your address?" Tim asks, letting go of my hand to fish the phone from his pocket and looking down to the screen.
"It's 400--" My voice trails off as I lay my eyes to the person standing across the street, slightly leaned over a black Audi R8.
Oh, fuck.
***
A/N:
Hello!
Before you start calling me names for the cliffhanger, I'm already working in the next chapter and will have it uploaded today. So this is kind of a double update, it will just take me a bit longer to have the next chapter all wrapped up and ready to post. :P
Just give me a couple of hours!
Love,
-T.