Love & London by Ellie White
CHAPTER TWELVE
As the evening went on, the temperature dropped and (after a substantial amount of street drinking) we had the great idea to head to a bar on the Southbank. We dropped the bag back to the office, jumped on the tube to Waterloo and, after a couple of more drinks, Jake is slowly wearing me down on the idea of karaoke.
"Come on, Maggs," Jake pleads with me. "That was the deal. I won pool, you have to sing. Everyone is so drunk, they won't notice how bad we are. Plus, most of these people are tourists, they won't remember us when they return to their normal lives on Monday."
I answer with a groan.
"Jason Donovan and Kylie Minogue? Elton John and Kiki Dee?" he asks "No, ‘Summer Lovin’? I know you love the song and I know you know the words and it's a crowd pleaser."
He looks at me with a sparkle in his eye and my last remaining resolve melts away.
"Ugh, fine. Sign us up before I change my mind."
"I promise you'll enjoy yourself and, you said so yourself, you want to try new things. Just, this doesn't include dating a bunch of weirdos, just singing a song terribly off key with me."
Why does he make it sound so appealing?
He hands our request paper over to the boy running the karaoke (who can't be any older than 18) who informs us we're the next but one. Enough time to sink a glass of wine and maybe a sambuca shot for a bit of Dutch courage. I used to sing karaoke all the time - Philip loved it - so why am I terrified to get on that stage?
Jake orders our drinks and we cheers our shots: Down the hatch, it goes. The liquid warms my throat as the aniseed assaults my senses. I smile as Jake screws up his face.
"I don't know how that doesn't make you want to throw up," he says, wincing at the taste. "I am not having any more of those!"
The announcer calls our name from the stage so I quickly chug down my wine. This time, it's me who winces and tries not to vomit.
"Come on, Sandy," Jake says, grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers through mine, pulling me onto the stage as the boy hands me my microphone. It's too late to back out and, as the music starts, we start to sing.
Unsurprisingly, it's extremely fun. Once I get into it, that is. Jake was right, everyone is so drunk that they think we're the Beyoncé and Jay-Z of the Southbank and I don't hate it which, for an introvert like me, is a strange phenomenon. We dance together to the rhythm of the cheesy music as the crowd cheer and sing along. Jake is loving the attention (as usual) but doesn't pay any attention to it, even the older lady in the front row who is undressing him with her eyes. I'm not even mad; I know how she feels. It's hard to tear my eyes away from him.
As we reach the end of the song, Jake spins me out, ready for the big finale. Suddenly, I can't feel the stage below my feet anymore and I fall to my extremely embarrassing death.
Okay, yes, that may be over dramatic but the searing pain in my right foot is certainly no joke.
"Shit, Maggie," Jake says as he jumps down to the floor next to me as I try my hardest not to cry. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
I don't speak for fear of bursting into tears. Instead, I settle for a shake of the head while pointing at my throbbing foot.
"Maggs? Can you stand?" he asks, looking an equal mix of concerned and guilty as hell as I shake my head once more.
I want the ground to swallow me whole. I'm so embarrassed that I almost don't hear the sounds of concern and smothered laughter from everyone that witnessed it. Almost.
"You can take her over there," the boy says, trying not to laugh in my face.
Christ. Why me?
Jake being the handsome knight in shining armour picks me up off the floor - bridal style - and takes me to an empty table next to the front door.
"Can we get another drink for the lady, please?" he asks as the boy saunters back to the bar with zero urgency or compassion for my now twice-it's-normal-size foot. "For the pain," he adds for my benefit.
He's staring at me with his beautiful blue eyes and I do momentarily forget the pain as my mind moves to the butterflies in my stomach. I also mentally thank the pedicure gods that I had my toenails painted as he takes off my boot to look at my foot.
"Maggs, can you say something. Please?"
"I'm just really trying not to burst into tears, right now." And it's becoming harder and harder as the embarrassment really sets in.
"We were really good up there. Did you at least enjoy yourself?" he says, trying to cheer me up.
"I was enjoying myself until you threw me off the stage," I reply through a fit of laughter. "I can't believe you did that, who does that?!"
"I'm so sorry," he says, laughing as though he's been holding it in. "No, honestly, I am. Nervous laughter. It's a curse"
The boy drops off my drink and I don't hesitate to throw it back and hand him back the empty shot glass.
"Come on, we'll get a taxi and take you to A&E," he says, pulling me up with one hand and holding my shoe in the other.
"That's not necessary. It's fine, really." I refuse to waste anyone's time over a stupid karaoke injury. "On second thoughts, A&E sounds great," I quickly add as pain shoots up my leg when I try to bear weight on my poor foot.
He scoops me up in his arms again and carries me out of the bar. I am utterly mortified. That's it, we can never return. I’ll have to move to Lithuania where no-one knows me.
I'm enjoying having Jake carry me in a Whitney-and-her-Bodyguard kind of way. All I need is for Jake to realise he is madly in love with me and snog me to within an inch of my life. Unlike The Bodyguard, we live happily ever after in my imagination.
Oh, shut up, Maggie. That's the shots talking.
***
It's a long and painful wait to be seen by a nurse in A&E who takes my blood and vitals. 5 hours to be exact. 2 hours after that, the sun is coming up and I finally get an X-ray before being called in to see a doctor.
I sobered up halfway through my wait in the waiting room and so they gave me the good painkillers. Now, I'm exhausted. Maybe I’m still a little bit drunk and definitely high on morphine.
"It's just a fracture, no break. This is the crack in the bone," the doctor says, pointing at the X-ray as I squint and try to make out the weird shapes. Has anyone really thought about how weird bones are? "Should take a few weeks to heal. The nurse will get you a boot to wear so you can walk. For the next few days, I would suggest keeping your weight off as much as possible."
Christ, those pain killers are good stuff. I can barely feel my face, never mind my broken foot. I'm slightly concerned that the doctor sounds like he's underwater but, at the same time, I'm not concerned at all. I feel great.
I wonder if the doctor knows he has green eyes.
"I got it," I say, not entirely sure what it is that I've 'got'.
"I'll get you a script for some codeine, too, for the pain," he adds to me. "But don't take it for another few hours. Have some sleep first and, when you wake up, you can take it."
"Ugh, pain. Do you know what really hurts, Doctor? Pluto."
"Erm, what do you mean, Miss Jones?" he asks, confused.
"Pluto must be in so much pain. Imagine spending your entire life thinking you're a planet and then, one day, some jobsworth at the International Astronomical Union decides you're not. It's just rude. Pluto must be so sad," I say, ending on a sob as real tears fall down my face. "And then, what about us? The people who were raised in the nineties, a time where you would say 'My Very Easy Method Just Speeds Up Naming Planets'. Now, what am I supposed to do to remember what order they are in? 'My Very Easy Method Just Speeds Up Naming'. Naming what? It's ridiculous. Without the P for Pluto, it just doesn't make sense. It's. Rude!" I say, completing my rant.
The poor doctor is barely containing his laugh. Jake doesn't even try to hide his as he gently wipes away my tears with his jumper sleeve.
"It's plain rude. My grandma would tell me to write a letter." I annunciate for emphasis before promptly bursting into more tears. "Jake, give me your phone. I want to tweet Neil deGrasse Tyson."
"I know, it's extremely rude. We can talk about it when we get home, okay? But I can't let you use my Twitter to start beef with Neil deGrasse Tyson," Jake says as he cradles my distraught face against his chest, dabbing my eyes while simultaneously apologising to the doctor for this seemingly random outburst. "I am impressed you could say International Astronomical Union perfectly, though," he adds softly.
"Well, Miss Jones," the doctor says, clearing his throat from the laughter he is holding in. "Once the nurse brings you your boot, your boyfriend can take you home."
"He's not my boyfriend. He's my best friend, business partner, long standing pain in the arse. But he has a beautiful face and a smile that makes me go weak at the knees so I keep him around." I attempt to wink at Jake but my eyes don't cooperate and just close for a few seconds. “Don’t tell him I said this, doctor, but I have the biggest crush on him. It's his eyes, his beautiful, blue eyes. He just has to look at me and the world is a better place. And he's really kind, too. It's a shame he's way out of my league," I whisper loudly to the doctor as my eyes finally lose the battle and close completely.
"We can talk about that when we get home, too. And I think we'll go easy on the pain killers from now on. Right, Maggs?" I can hear Jake say as he softly kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair until I slowly fade into unconsciousness.
***
The next thing I'm aware of is my head banging against the door frame as Jake opens the door to my flat. Did I give him the key or did he take it out of my bag?
I don't care.
"Ow."
"Shit, sorry."
"S'okay," I mumble, my eyes still tightly closed.
He's much more careful as he manoeuvres through the sitting room towards the bedroom door. When he places me down on the bed that smells just like him, I suddenly realise this is not my flat. It's his.
"You brought me to your flat?" I ask as I groggily open one of my eyes. The bright light is blinding.
"Yeah, I thought it was easier to bring you here since I had my key and I know where everything is. Let me get you a T-shirt to wear and you can make yourself comfortable," he adds, turning off the big light and leaving the light on in the hallway until my eyes adjust.
I look to my side for the zip on my skirt through one squinted eye, the other still firmly closed.
"Help me, please," I whimper after a few attempts before realising the zip is at the back.
The bed shifts as he sits down in front of me and brushes my hair out of my face. Just that one moment of contact results in goosebumps pricking over every inch of my body. He reaches around to slowly lower the zip on the back of my skirt as I drink in the sheer pleasure of his touch. Yes, I take this opportunity to inhale him like any other red-blooded woman would.
It's a crazy thought but I wish this were real. I wish he were undressing me for a different reason.
He starts to move off the bed when my arm gets stuck trying to pull my jumper over my head.
"You're going to have to help me get it off. And help me stand so I can get my skirt off."
He lets out a throaty laugh and I wonder how hilarious this looks to him.
He's a man with a reputation. Surely, he's helped a woman get undressed before. So why does he look so unsure?
He's gentle as he untangles my arm from my sleeve and easily pulls my jumper over my head. His fingers graze my side and my body responds with an embarrassing shiver and accompanying goose bumps.
His warm hand lingers for a moment on my bare skin, noticing my reaction for the first time, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly like he's trying not to react himself.
"Thank you," I say, barely above a whisper but not caring that I'm sat in front of Jake Mills in nothing but my unzipped skirt, a lacy bra which leaves nothing to the imagination and an attractive medical boot.
He clears his throat and pulls his T-shirt on over my head while I shove my arms through the holes. He then helps me to stand on one foot so I can wiggle out of my skirt.
"I've never put clothes on a woman before so this is all new for me." He laughs nervously.
"I meant thank you for everything. For always being there when I needed you on those shitty dates; for standing up for me when Cylvie was being a bitch; for making an effort to prove to me that we can work together and for showing me new things. For being my partner. You're one of the most important people in my life and I don't know how I managed to live so long without you, I'm scared that, one day, you'll wake up and meet someone and you won't want to hang around with us anymore."
"I'm sorry I spent so many years being a twat. And you don't need to worry about me meeting someone. At this point, you're stuck with me. I don't think I could live without you anymore and I most definitely don't want to live without you but we'll talk about that tomorrow," he says sincerely.
I pull the bobble off my wrist and move to tie back my hair but, as my hands are busy trying to pull the uncooperative bundle together, I slowly start to tilt to the side. Jake catches me by my waist before I face plant his bed and the contact shocks me again. He doesn't remove his hands once I'm upright. We just stare at each other, not in a weird kind of way but more like an I-can't-bear-to-take-my-eyes-off-you kind of way.
"I really enjoyed our date tonight, even if I did maim you and I hope you did, too. I wish I had plucked up the courage and asked you out sooner, could have avoided those crappy dates you went on," he says, leaving me wondering if I had imagined what he'd said. It's something he'd say in my dreams.
Was tonight a real date? Is that what he said or was that a painkiller-induced hallucination?
He's sat next to me, now, with one leg tucked under himself and the other stretched out behind me, his chest almost touching my side. I hadn't realised that my hand was resting on his thigh or that he was tracing patterns on the back of my neck with his fingertips until another shiver runs down my spine.
"Jake?" Again, I'm hypnotised when he looks at me. "Will you kiss me?"
"I think it's time to get some sleep," he says, letting me down gently.
Oh, god. Did that just happen?
"Ugh, yeah, it was stupid. I blame your eyes. Your stupid, beautiful eyes."
"I want to, believe me, I really want to kiss you. It's taking all my self-control not to but I don't want our first kiss to be one you don't remember when you wake up. Plus, you're pretty high on morphine; it wouldn't be right for me to take advantage."
My brain is too foggy to fully process his words. It sounded like he said he wants to kiss me.
"Please, don't leave me alone tonight. Sleep here with me?"
"I'd love to," he says softly. "Let me get changed."
He helps me lay back, tucks the quilt around me and, as soon as my head hits the pillow that smells just like him, my eyes refuse to stay open any longer. The next thing I know is feeling his warm arms wrap around me and his lips press to the side of my neck as I sigh and relax into his embrace, my body melting into his as he holds me tight.
I've spent so long trying to stop myself falling for Jake that I hadn't realised I already had. What was an innocent crush feels like so much more and I'm scared that I'll not be able to go back if things go wrong.
My worries are long forgotten when I feel him pulling me in close as he buries his face into my neck again. He kisses me gently along my shoulder before I feel his head settle onto the pillow next to mine
"Goodnight, Maggie," is the last thing I hear before I give in to unconsciousness.
***
I wake up to bright sunshine streaming in through the large, familiar window. Sitting up to take a better look around, I'm greeted with a sharp pain in my foot.
Right, my fractured foot.
My brain is foggy as I look around the room and struggle to put everything together in my mind. The bed is soft and comfortable, the dark quilt still wrapped around me. I feel safe and warm.
Hang on, what am I wearing? Did I get changed? I can't read the writing upside-down but I think its Jake’s crazy golf T-shirt.
All at once, my memories return although they're still a little blurry.
Oh, god. Jake.
Oh, I'm so stupid. Why did I ask him to kiss me? Obviously, he was going to reject me. I look around the floor but can't seem to locate my stupid boot or crutches.
Memories of him undressing me. Oh, sweet Jesus. At least I had on a nice bra and a decent pair of knickers that was halfway between slutty and classy. They didn't match or anything - I wasn't that put together - but at least they weren't grey.
Thank god Laura had added a bikini wax and pedicure to our appointment last week; the alternative would have been mortifying.
This... Well, this is just extremely embarrassing.
I stand and try to hop to the door to find Jake so I can apologise for being an embarrassment but, instead, I wobble and catch myself on the floor in some sort of downward dog yoga pose with a thud and a squeal.
Ow. That hurt like hell.
"Shit, Maggs. Are you okay? You should have shouted," he says as he runs into his bedroom to help pick me up off the floor. Again. He sits me on the end of the bed, looking relieved that (at least, this time) he wasn't responsible for my fall.
"Yeah, I'm fine... Just want to find my boot. I should really ring a taxi and go die of embarrassment at home," I say, not meeting his eyes. "What time is it?"
"It's just after 2 pm. Don't go just yet. I made you some breakfast. Well, lunch. Waffles and pancakes. I was about to come and wake you up," he says as he bends down with my boot to put it on me and handing me two crutches.
"Oh, right. Thanks," I say, not knowing what else to say but feeling extremely nervous and embarrassed in equal measure.
"Do you, uh... Remember much? From last night? I honestly don't think I've seen anyone get so high from such a small dose of morphine." He grins, teasing me as he shoves his hands in his jean’s pockets. I want nothing more to return his grin and forget about everything but I just keep replaying the moment I begged him to kiss me in my head and the moment he politely said ‘no’.
Stupid.
"Sadly for my ego, I remember most of it. It was the morphine talking so don't feel guilty about your rejection. Obviously, it was crazy that you and I would - You know…" I say, trying to dismiss the fact that I was deadly serious when I asked him to kiss me. The last thing we need is awkwardness.
"Oh... Right," he says, echoing my earlier statement. "Well, come and get some food. You must be starved. You haven't eaten since our food last night."
"In fairness, we probably ate a week’s worth of calories in one go. But yes, I'm starving," I reply.
"You want some help?" he asks.
"No, I should really get some practice using these things," I say as I struggle to coordinate my crutches and hopping.
I clumsily follow him out into the kitchen dining area and, when he sees me struggle, he guides me with his arm around my waist. There's that tingling sensation again.
"It might take some getting used to but we can practice today," he says when we reach his breakfast bar where he has stacks of pancakes and waffles surrounded by bowls of fresh fruit and a big jar of Nutella. He helps me take a seat on the high stool before taking a seat opposite me.
I'm painfully aware I only have his T-shirt and my knickers on. At least, the T-shirt covers most of my modesty.
"This is incredible. I knew you could cook, obviously, but I didn't know you could make pancakes and waffles like this. Don't let Laura know; she'll be out for blood."
"Mum taught me. She loves pancakes but, like you've said in the past, I'm a mummy's boy so who knows if they're actually good or not?"
"Yep, this is incredible," I say as I chew my way through a large bite of waffle, Nutella and strawberries. "Seriously. I could eat this all day every day and not get bored."
He laughs his throaty laugh and starts to load his own plate up.
"I owe you a massive apology and I should have said this weeks ago, it's at least a decade late. I judged you and I got it all wrong."
"You're surprised I'm not an arrogant, obnoxious womaniser?" he asks, grinning at me and repeating the words I threw in his face not long ago.
"Not anymore. I remembered the kind of man you were that first night and last night was perfect, aside from the broken foot. I'm just sorry I never took a moment to remember the man you are, instead of avoiding the man I thought you were for such a long time."
"It's not your fault, Maggie. If anyone should get the blame, it's me. I spent three years pushing you away then, when I realised what I'd lost, I acted like a twat to get your attention. I'm not saying that some of the stuff wasn't true but it was exaggerated and embellished whenever you were around. I don't think there were half as many women as I'd have you believe. I didn't know what else to do. After Philip died, you would only talk to me when you were pissed off at me or berating me over something so I kept it going. I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me again."
"You went on like that because you wanted to talk to me? Why didn't you just - I don't know - talk to me like a normal human being?" I laugh. "I missed you, the old you who used to sit and play on my brother’s Xbox and eat all of Mum's posh biscuits. I missed the boy who would pick us up in his little, silver Saxo with his leather jacket and drive us around wherever we needed to go."
"I didn't know how to talk to you because you weren't the same person anymore either. You had grown up; you weren't the girl I pushed away. You were older and I was intimidated. You are easily the smartest and the kindest person I know; you're loyal, funny and you're drop dead gorgeous. Add them all together and I was nervous."
I can feel the blush warming my face like it has so many times with him.
"Well, I'm glad we're friends again. I'd never have gotten this cool boot if we weren't," I say, laughing again to ease the sexual tension that surrounds us.
"I'm really, really sorry for what happened to your foot. I'm hoping you'll let me make it up to you."
"You could start by driving me home? And then to my parents’ house for James' birthday party? I know you don't normally come to those things and they're usually rubbish but I've got a feeling this time will be different. If you come, that is. Mum might even try her hand at pyrotechnics again."
"If you're sure you want me to come, I'll be there. I can't wait to see you explain that to your mum," he smirks, pointing at my boot.
"I'd be pretty scared, if I were you. If she finds out it was your fault that her darling daughter was maimed, she'll be calling for your head on a stake."
"Shit. Didn't think of that. I'll just use you as a human shield; it's not like you can move very fast," he says playfully.
"I suppose it is in my best interest to protect you. I'd very much like to keep you around. For professional purposes, obviously."
"Is that the only reason? Professional purposes?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
"I like having you around," I say, wary of my words. He is way too suggestive this morning and it's actually going to be the death of me.