Page 5

I stare at her, press my lips together, and think— fuck it. This ain’t fun no more . Only do what I want, don’t I? I only do fun shit. And feelin’s? Nah, fuck ’em. Ain’t for me. That’s why I don’t get ’em.

What the fuck am I doin’, but? What am I even here for—passive-aggressively havin’ a go at some girl I just met ’bout her fuckin’ bodyguard—who’s just doin’ his job, fair play to him?

Too much drama, this.

Don’t want it.

Nod toward the door. “Right, yeah. I’m off.”

“Fine.” She shrugs, acts unbothered, but I see it—she’s bothered some, cos then she says, “You know, you chased me…left where you were to find me , asked me to come back to my place—”

“Yeah.” I nod. “And?”

Shakes her head, looks over my shit she does, but grand cos I’m fuckin’ over hers too and I only met her an hour ago.

“And nothing. I was just reminding you.” I nod once, turn on me foot, and walk out her hotel door, slammin’ it behind me.

Regret. Instantly . Fuckin’ slap to the face, it is. Me head drops back, and I silently scream fuck at the ceiling. Drop me face to my hands, tryna make sense of what the fuck is goin’ on with me now.

I don’t fuckin’ regret things. Don’t have arguments with girls I don’t even know cos the night ain’t going how I fuckin’ daydreamed it would an hour ago when I first saw her across a club. Mate, I don’t fuckin’ daydream at all.

But now? I’ve got this fuckin’ weird feelin’ like—I dunno, if I just walk away, I’m gonna fuck up the rest of me life.

Which is mental. Like, proper mental, I know—like, man, get a fuckin’ grip, yeah?

But like…I don’t got one no more. Not since I saw her, lost it the second I did.

Which is why I find meself doin’ somethin’ I ain’t never done before.

I turn back ’round and knock on her door.

About ten seconds and it’s just fuck-all silent.

Me heart sinks, if you can believe it. The state of me, man.

Then I hear her on the other side—door creaks open—she don’t even fill the frame.

Yeah like, she’s tall for a girl, but Christ, she’s tiny—all frownin’ at me like I pissed her off, arms crossed tight over her chest.

Her brows are up, proper annoyed. “What?” she snaps, impatient as fuck.

And then I rush her. One hand in her hair, the other on her face cos that face, man—

Her lips part in surprise as mine smash into hers again. Don’t even know why we stopped in the first place. Happy to be back. Ain’t gonna make that mistake again.

Different this time, innit? We’re behind closed doors now.

More lean-in from her, and it’s mad, cos I thought we were made from the same fuckin’ stone the first time.

But now? Now she coils ’round me, presses herself into me as I carry her through the toffiest room I ever stepped foot in in me life.

We’re stumblin’ towards her bedroom, movin’ backwards, sideways, bangin’ into walls, and I dunno when me jacket and shirt came off—but they’re gone now.

And her hands? Fuckin’ everywhere—my jeans, my chest, my hair—her hands in my hair, holy shit!

Heaven. Like, yeah, Charlie’s good, but this? This is fuckin’ summat else.

I fall backwards onto her bed, bring her down with me—she pulls back for a second, eyes blurry and heavy how eyes go when they’re cloudy with lust, know what I mean? She tilts her head, staring at me.

Prop meself up, give her a bit of a smile. “What?”

She puts her hand on me cheek.

“I get it,” she says after a sec.

Give her a look. “Get what?”

“You.” She shrugs. “Why people lose their minds about you. I get it now. Your face is—” She stops talking, scoffs, a bit like she can’t properly believe it.

“My face is what?” I push. Wanna see where she’s goin’ with this, don’t I? Know I’m gonna like it…

A little frown flickers over her face, goes all serious. I’ll write songs for the rest of me life about how her mouth goes when she’s serious, I swear to fuck I will.

“A masterpiece,” she says, but all solemn about it.

Now if you ask anyone who knows me proper well, they’ll tell ya: I already got a pretty big head, don’t I? But when she says that, I’m buzzin’, man. Chuffed.

“What’s this from?” Her finger traces the scar by my right eye. Girls love scars, don’t they? Fuckin’ eat ’em up, you know? Dunno why.

Give her a half smile. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her because that’s not a part me life I want her to know about, you get me? No fuckin’ way is that part of me ever gonna make sense to her.

Lie back down on her pillow—smells like her, right?

How the fuck do I already know what she smells like, is what I wanna know.

It’s lemons, by the way. She fuckin’ smells like lemons, and I’m mad for it.

I ain’t never paid much attention to how a person smells before.

Like, sure, I’ve smelled girls before, probably—in passing, yeah?

They all just smelled like…I dunno, girls ?

But she smells like lemons.

Catch meself sniffing her hair, and she catches me. Starts laughin’, shakin’ her head.

Now, look—I ain’t one to take too well to people laughin’ at me… Might let her laugh at me forever, though. Maybe. Just cos I like the sound.

“What are you doing?” She grins.

“Why do you smell like lemons?”

She brushes her hair over her shoulders—dark, long, wavy—and I’m hit with another wave of lemon. She shrugs.

“Only smell I like.”

Tilt my head, offer her me neck. “Like how I smell?”

She breathes me in and her eyes pinch playfully. “You smell like…cigarettes. And beer.”

I flash her a grin. “Yeah, I fuckin’ do.”

She smiles down at me, and I push some hair back behind her ear. Eyes go soft ’round the edges, hers. And if I’m honest? All of me’s soft ’round the edges for this girl now. Like a right fuckin’ melt. Tell meself to snap out of it. I’m Joah fuckin’ Harrigan.

In one move—worked a fuckin’ treat on other birds before—flip her so she’s underneath, me on top. Stares up at me, blinkin’, patient as owt. Like she’s got all the time in the world. Maybe she does, I dunno. Either way, I’ll give her all mine.

“Ready?” I check, cos let’s be honest, lads, consent matters.

“You talk a lot…”

“Alrigh’—” I roll my eyes, holdin’ back a chuckle. The fuckin’ nerve, know what I mean?

She bats her eyes at me bold as owt so I push into her, and that little breath she takes—?

Fuck, I’m done for. No two ways about it.

Thirty seconds inside her, and I know—I’m so fuckin’ in over my head with this girl, it ain’t even funny.

And you know what? Happy fuckin’ days. Never liked shallow water much anyway.