Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Eleven
Freddie
As soon as we walk out of the airport, I breathe in deep, close my eyes — and gag. The sun’s amazing on my skin, but the same can’t be said for the stench filling my nostrils. Drains. How can I have forgotten about drains? Everywhere I’ve been around the Mediterranean coast, which admittedly hasn’t been very far, it’s the stink of blocked drains that smacks me full in the face.
“Freddie?”
I snap my eyes open. Elliot’s staring at me, his head tilted to the side, a questioning furrow on his brow.
“Are you okay? You look a bit pale. Is it still the effects of the turbulence?”
Heat pulses in my face. I clear my throat and shake my head.
“No, just got a whiff of drains.” The heat pulses some more. I’m not sure which is more embarrassing, me talking about drains, or me gripping onto Elliot’s arm for dear life when the plane was hit by a pocket of strong wind, causing the cabin crew to scuttle off and the buckle-up signs to come on overhead. I’d been shaking as I’d clawed at Elliot’s — mercifully — sleeve-covered arm, otherwise he’d have been scarred for life. In the end, after we’d emerged safe and sound, he’d had to all but dig my fingers out of his flesh.
Elliot wrinkles his nose, and breaks into a smile.
“I’ve made this trip so many times, I don’t notice any more. Come on, let’s wait over there for the car.”
We wheel our luggage over to a tall tree, leaving the drain stench behind us. Elliot scans the crowds coming and going, his face a study in concentration, and I can’t help but study in return. Not for the first time, I have to resist the urge to whimper.
Oh, but he looks good. He all but knocked me out earlier, when he’d picked me up in the cab, but now, under the impossibly bright sun, he’s something else — and I’m offering up thanks I’m wearing a loose, long shirt over my jeans, because my dick’s also liking what I’m looking at.
Straight legged dark chinos, and a fitted light blue shirt clinging to his defined torso. But it’s the dark glasses which are the icing on the cake. He could be a top security agent, or a bodyguard, all sleek and sexily professional, ready to pin me down on the ground, covering me with all that muscled weight at the slightest hint of danger…
“Earth to Freddie.”
I jump at his voice, jolting out of my fantasy, and gawp as he pushes his sunglasses on top of his head. He stares at me, his lips quirking in a crooked grin, one brow raised.
“Sorry,” I croak, finding my voice at last. “I, erm, was just appreciating the warmth. What do you think the temperature is? It’s been so cold and damp at home.”
“I’ve really no idea. Are you sure you’re okay? You were very pale a moment ago, and now you’re looking rather red. In patches.” He studies me intently.
Red in patches. I’m talking drivel, and I’m blotchy. I really need to get a grip, and I offer up a smile that I’m sure must look more like a grimace.
“I’m fine. I think I was just hit by the heat and humidity.”
“Yes, I suppose. Anyway, I said I’ve just had a message from Andrew. There’s been some mix up with the car he was sending for us, so we’ll have to take a taxi.” He thrusts his phone back into his pocket as, with the other hand, he waves to a short, stocky guy leaning on one of the half dozen or so cabs parked up.
Climbing into the battered back seat, I pull the seatbelt across and buckle up, but it’s worn and loose, and I can pull it out with just a quick tug. I don’t want to make a fuss, but it’s too late anyway as the driver screeches off, doing his best impression of Lewis Hamilton.
It’s not long before the cab turns off the main road, and winds its way along narrow, twisting lanes. Rounding a bend, we go over the top of a small hill and head down, and I let out a long moan as I catch my first glimpse of the sea, the afternoon sunlight sparkling like the brightest diamonds.
“That first sight under a hot sun’s always magical, isn’t it?”
Elliot’s voice is quiet, almost as though he’s talking to himself, and I drag my attention away from the glittering Med. His sunglasses are still on the top of his head, but a small lock of salt and pepper hair’s dropped down on to his brow. My fingers itch to push it back, to just touch him. I could do it and he’d not know because, as he gazes out to sea, wherever he is at this moment he isn’t with me in the battered old taxi.
Guilt wrenches at my gut, because all the time I’ve been slobbering over how hot he looks, as I indulge in fantasies that belong in the cheesy porn Cosmo and I watch, what I haven’t noticed is the strain pulling every muscle in that gorgeous face of his so tight they could snap like elastic bands.
He’s about to come face-to-face with his ex, with me in tow, a man he didn’t even know existed just a week before, and I’m going to be introduced to the wedding party as his new partner. The plan’s now a reality, and it’s rushing to meet us.
“I won’t let you down,” I say quietly, my words almost lost against the background drone of the Arabic music the driver’s switched on.
Elliot turns to me, and for the shortest moment his eyes are blank, as though he doesn’t know who I am or why I’m with him, before they clear and he smiles.
“I don’t doubt that for a moment.” He hesitates and I wait. “But, I want you to enjoy your stay and…” He glances at the driver, and lowers his voice. “I don’t expect you to be joined to me at the hip so, other than the wedding day itself, you’ve no need—”
“To be some kind of clingy limpet?”
Elliot looks at me, before he laughs out loud, displaying those little creases at the outer corners of his eyes that make something go all wobbly in my belly.
“Well, yes, if you want to put it like that. The villa’s large and the grounds sprawling. There are some little cottages — gîtes — in the grounds. The previous owners rented them out, but Andrew and Marcus use them as guest accommodation when they have weekend parties. The point I’m making is that if you want or need your own space you can easily find it. I really don’t expect you to spend all your time with me.”
I nod, but he’s already turning away from me, retreating back to his own thoughts and inner world.
My stomach twists. But what if I want to spend all my time with you? I won’t ask the question because I don’t want to risk the answer. I tell myself we’re each playing a role, that none of it’s true, and I need to remember that.
I gaze out of the window, as the cab bumps and lurches along the rutted road, jolting me from side to side.
“Ooohhff!”
The cry’s knocked out of my lungs as I’m hurled forward, arms flailing, as the cab swings a hard, sharp left before juddering to a halt.
The broken seat belt’s no match for me and my windmill impression as it springs free, leaving me to topple sideways and straight into Elliot with a hard thump. My catapulting weight pins him into the corner and his arms clamp around my middle, holding me tight to his body to stop me from slipping down and getting wedged between the front and back seat. But it’s no good, and I slide down that long, hard-muscled body, coming to a halt in a crouch, my face just a hair’s breadth from his crotch.
I stare up at him, my mouth gaping as I breathe hard.
“Are you—?” Elliot doesn’t have time to say anything more as the door’s flung open.
“Elliot? What on—oh.”
“Hello, Gavin.”
Strawberry blond hair, pouty lips, dark grey eyes and totally, bloody gorgeous. Gavin peers down at me as though he’s studying a sample of slimy pond life under a microscope.
Oh, fuck.
