Page 13

Nicky

The notification bar on my phone taunts me. So far this morning, I’ve had messages and emails from every person I’ve ever met, it seems. From every person, except one.

Cherry.

After she left the restaurant last night, tipsy and sexy as hell in those faux-leather pants, I’d done something impulsive.

Something so out of character for me, Sue had sent two follow-up emails confirming my request was real before actually completing it.

And now, here I am, waiting for a response from this woman who’s got me acting impulsive and possessive and all kinds of other adjectives I’ve never been before.

“Screw it.”

I give up pacing in my room and head down to pace in front of hers.

The text I sent Cherry last night asked her to be ready at 8.

00 a.m., so here I stand at 7.55 a.m., with still no response.

I know from James that she and Serena had stayed out drinking and dancing until 2.

00 a.m., so there’s a very real chance she’s not even read my text yet, let alone will be ready to leave in five minutes, but I’m not ready to admit defeat yet.

Not when there’s still a chance that I get to spend the day with her.

Just the two of us. Away from the track; away from everyone watching us.

I’m so gone for this woman.

With a clenched fist, I knock on her door. Light at first and when I hear nothing on the other side of the timber, with a bit more force. Biting back a smile, I sigh with relief when there’s a thump, and a muttered curse, followed by a raspy, “I’m coming.”

I shuffle my feet and wait for what feels like a really long time for one small person to make their way to the door, when it finally opens.

There in front of me is Cherry. Her hair is a mop of wavy disarray around her face.

Her skin is pale and blotchy, her eyes are rimmed with remnants of black mascara, and she’s wearing those pyjamas again.

Otherwise known as the skimpiest pjs in the world.

Two scraps of material I’ve fought long and hard to forget about since we shared a suite in Shanghai.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I drawl, warmth filling my chest as her enormous blue eyes blink up at me. She’s a mess this morning—an adorable mess—and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone more.

Eager to get our day under way, I take two steps into her room, stopping when she takes two rapid steps back.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice hoarse from all the karaoke singing from the night before.

I know this because I was privy to her performance, courtesy of the video James sent to me at 1.

00 a.m. She puts a trembling hand to her head, a wrinkle marring her brow like she’s racking her mind for the reason I’d be standing at her door.

There wasn’t any talk of the two of us meeting today, so I understand her confusion.

It seems my text message to her had gone unread after all .

“You didn’t see my message?” I ask, my eyes unable to stay focussed on just her face.

Like right now, they are stuck on where her hands are playing with the hem of her shorts.

Her short shorts, showing off miles of creamy skin and toned thighs.

“Do you get some sort of discount for your pyjamas?” I add, the words out of my mouth before my brain can stop them.

Seriously, Nicky? Get it together.

She glances down at her cotton baby blue singlet and shortie set, like she’s looking for a clue. Like she doesn’t see what the problem is.

“It would only seem fair, given they seem to have forgotten half the fabric.”

Great. You’re making it much better. Shut up.

A deep red blush starts at the base of her neck and travels up over her face, and I swallow a groan when she grabs a cushion off the couch next to her and holds it in front of her body, making it so she now looks naked.

“That’s not really helping.” I try and cannot bite back a grin, chuckling loudly when she turns and launches the cushion at me. At my face.

“So, what are you doing here?” she asks.

I put the cushion back on the couch between us, taking several steps closer to where she’s standing.

I watch, fascinated as she fiddles with her pyjamas, first with the hem of her top, pulling it down enough to cover her stomach, then pulling it up to cover her chest. The poor thing looks so uncomfortable. I rush to put her at ease.

“We’re going to Kyoto,” I announce.

Her fiddling stops.

“The team is going to Kyoto? Like on a field trip?”

Seriously? She’s so freaking adorable.

“No, Cherry. Not the team. Just you and me.”

Her mouth hangs open and I wait for her to say something. Anything. When the silence lingers and she continues to gape at me, I wonder if this is a misstep. That perhaps she won’t want to spend the day playing tourist with me.

“If you want to…?” I add into the void. She’s not said anything in a long while and I’m now planning a way to get out of this. To extract myself with some shred of dignity.

“I do!” she blurts out, finally. “Stay there. Don’t move. Give me five minutes.”

A relieved chuckle escapes my lips and I sink onto her couch, my eyes following her as she bolts into the bathroom.

I listen to the water turn on in the shower and force myself to take my phone out of my pocket, unlock the home screen, open up my emails and scroll through them.

All to keep my mind from picturing Cherry in the shower. Under the water. Wet.

You are a bad best friend, I lecture myself. Annoyed at my lack of self-control, I open up photos of me and Matt. If he was inside my head right now, he’d never forgive me. And he’d probably be punching me in the face. Deservedly.

With my mind now focussed on my friendship with Matt, I keep my thoughts pure, only to be thwarted when the bathroom door opens and I’m treated to a flash of her pink-tinged body wrapped in a tiny towel flying from the bathroom to the bedroom, leaving a tantalising scent of coconut in her wake.

The exact smell that has been taunting me for weeks.

“I’m ready.”

Cherry’s husky voice pulls me from my thoughts and I stand, my eyes running over her as they love to do.

Today she’s dressed more casually than usual, wearing light denim jeans, a crisp white t-shirt, a long grey cardigan and sneakers.

Her hair is swept up into a messy bun, with a few damp tendrils curling around over her small ears.

Her face is no longer pale; her cheeks are now flushed with colour, her plump lips glistening and oh-so-kissable.

I’m going to hell. And Matt is going to send me there .

“Are those shoes comfortable?” I ask, in place of all the other things I want to say to her. The first being to tell her how truly beautiful I think she is.

“Yep.” She throws her phone, purse, sunglasses, lip gloss and her trusty camera into a small backpack and bounces over to where I’m standing.

I shove my hands into my pockets and exhale her scent out of my nose. This, us spending the day together, may not have been a good idea after all.

“Let’s go!” She marches out of the room and I follow, my hand finding the small of her back like it’s supposed to live there, guiding her to the car waiting for us.

We settle into our seats as Cherry waves at James, who’s in the passenger seat next to the driver, and I’ve never been more grateful for his presence. With him following us today, we won’t be alone just the two of us. He will be protecting me from myself.

“Are we driving there?” She’s vibrating with excited energy next to me and I relax into my seat. Cherry is happy. It’s a good thing.

“No, we’re taking the bullet train.”

She grins at me, all lips and teeth and excitement. I lean away from her, because of how much I want to lean towards her.

“We need to hurry though.” I clear my throat and my thoughts, looking at my wristwatch. We’re cutting it fine to make our train.

“Sorry I wasn’t ready this morning,” she whispers, her chest caved in like she’s trying to make herself smaller. I’ve noticed this is something she does, something new. Shielding herself away from incoming criticism.

My blood thrums in my ears, anger simmering inside. This is what Matt was talking about. This is Troy’s doing.

“It’s not your fault. I sent the message last night knowing you may not see it until this morning.”

“But still—”

I place my hand on her bouncing knee. “But still, nothing.”

She leans back in her seat, her eyes searching mine. I’m watching her so closely; I see the moment something clicks in her mind. It’s in the way her shoulders come down from her ears, and her spine elongates.

This isn’t on me , her posture screams.

The knot in my stomach loosens as she smiles up at me. I’ve had a lifetime of Cherry smiles to catalogue and this one may just be my favourite. It’s one I feel she gives only to me.

“We’re here,” James says from the front seat, pulling me from the moment where the air between us pulsates with…something.

I pull in some much-needed oxygen and grab her hand in mine, hurrying us along towards where our train is waiting. Her shorter legs are hoppy hopping to keep up with my longer strides and I adjust my speed so she’s right next to me, rather than following. The way it should be.

“We made it.” She flops into the seat next to me, flushed and a little breathless and I tear my gaze from her heaving chest, focussing on ruffling through the backpack at my feet instead.

“Here. For you.”

She takes the can of coffee I’m holding and stares between it and me, before swallowing a big gulp. “You bought me coffee in a can? ”

I shrug like it’s nothing. Like I hadn’t gotten up early and braved the morning crowds to source this for her after hearing her rave about the vending machines in Japan and how she’s dying to try all they offer.

“I know it won’t be up to your coffee snob standard, but it’s caffeine.

And I know what you’re like if you don’t have your morning coffee. ”