Love Resisted (Entwined Hearts #2) (2 page)

“Thank you, Eric, really. But I need to work this out on my own. Anyway, you only have a two bedroom flat. I’m not sure I want to listen to you and Rich again, it was hard enough last weekend.”

Eric snickers. “Yeah, Rich had a hard enough time too.”

“Oh, Eric! Shhhh, will you!” I complain sticking my fingers in my ears.

Eric reaches up to my hands and pulls them out. “What? It’s because you don’t want to hear about the gay boys, huh!” he says trying to suppress a grin.

“Gah! We’ve been through this before, Eric, like a million times! It’s not because you’re gay, it’s because you’re…well you! I don’t want to hear about your sex life. And for the last time, as much as you want to believe it, you should have left the term
‘boy’
behind at least fifteen years ago.” I bite my lips between my teeth trying not to laugh.

“My my…someone’s a bitch today,” he replies while pulling my top over my head, dressing me like I’m a child.

“Sorry, Eric.”

“Don't apologise, Missy, be confident in your statements. You’re right. I like me a noisy boy and always enjoy telling the world about
all
his glory.” He stops and raises an eyebrow with a grin then continues, “And I like to think I’m a boy still. I’m not anymore, that’s true, however if you tell anyone I admitted that out loud, I will cut you!” he states and I laugh.

Eric is the kind of man who would run away from a fight. Well, he may possibly bitch slap the shit out of you. His boyfriend Rich is about as alpha as you could imagine, total opposites, but they work. Where Eric doesn’t stop talking, Rich hardly says anything. They are, of course, the sweetest, kindest couple ever. As long as you don’t get on their bad side. Then you’ll be in a world of hurt. Probably more so from Rich.

“Okay, duly noted. Now you’ve dressed me, am I good to go?” I ask with a wink.

“Of course, Missy.”

As I move to grab my bag and leave, Eric clasps my hand and spins me around to face him.

“Just to say, all humour aside, you need me I’m here. Rich too. You know that man loves you, and if he were straight, he would chase you down until he had you.” He rubs my hand. “Eric doesn’t like seeing his babies upset,” he says while I push the boulder back that’s forming in my throat.

“Thank you, Eric. I’ll keep that in mind, but don’t worry I’ll call or text before coming around. Don’t want to catch you out,” I tell him while sticking my fingers in my mouth and making a gagging sound. He rolls his eyes at me.

“Don’t let them, out there, see you do that.” He replies pointing back out to the now empty studio. “They’ll think you're one of
those
models.”

I wrinkle my brow. “
Those
models?”

“Yeah, you know the ones who throw up to maintain their skinny arses. It’s a waste of good food if you ask me,” he mumbles, but I’m not listening anymore. I’m remembering.

“Do you have to wear that dress?” my mother commented looking distastefully at my new floral shift dress which sat just above my knees. It was sleeveless, so I’d added a soft pink cardigan which was currently over my arm and flat pink sandals to the ensemble. It wouldn’t do to embarrass her with a ‘whore outfit.’ I look down at myself then back at her.

“Is it too revealing, Mother?” I asked meekly.

“No, it just shows every lump and bump on your body. You look like a pin-cushion.” She glared at me.

I covered my stomach with my arms. “S…shall I change, Mother?” I asked trying not to cry. You don’t cry. That made things worse.

“No. There isn’t time. I shall have to tell everyone that you put some weight on over Easter. Too many eggs.” She turned and walked purposely away toward the front door, to the waiting car. I threw my cardigan on and wrapped it around myself. Knowing that I’d go along with the lie, even though she’d never have allowed me to consume Easter eggs. I did manage to have some though. Pea, Con and Saul bought me one each and I’d scoffed them at Pea’s house, making sure to throw the food back up as soon as I’d gotten home. I couldn’t have that fat sitting in my stomach. Making me fatter. Making me dirty.

“Are you going home or what, Missy?” Eric asks bringing me out of my unpleasantness.

“Oh, yeah, pfft! I don’t want to hang around here any longer than needed.” Forced cheerfulness radiating from me. Eric hands me my bag, spins me around and pats my bum.

“Get,” he says shoving me toward the door.

I step outside and take in the fresh February night air. It’s later than I thought. Glancing at my watch, I realise it’s 8.00 p.m. and I’ll have to walk down two dark roads to get to the taxi station or bus stop. Debating what to do for a minute, my brain kicks into gear thinking fuck it! There’s someone who keeps telling me to call him so he knows I’m safe. He answers on the second ring.

“Tink?”

“Hey, Dane. Listen, I was wondering…the shoot went over a bit and it’s a fair walk to the taxi station—”

He cuts me off. “Where are you?”

“Oh, errm…I’m in Moor Street.”

“On my way. Stay put.” And with that he ends the call. Nice. I look down at my phone then walk over to a bench and perch on it waiting for Dane. I forgot he used to call me Tink. He told me it was because I was blonde with lots of sass.

Ten minutes later he pulls up. Sliding in the car my body relishes the warmth from his heater.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

I fiddle with my fingers. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he asks looking at me with his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you want to go home?” he continues.

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess…?” He pauses. “What is it, Tink?”

“It’s just since Con and Pea…I just…I kind of feel like a third wheel.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m getting that. They can’t leave each other alone those two. It gets a bit sickly after a while. You want to come to mine and sample my culinary skills, or we can order take out?”

“Yeah, dinner sounds good,” I say softly, smiling at him. I sometimes forget what a kind man Dane is.

As the car rolls forward and we start our journey back to his place, I feel a sense of relief. I didn’t realise how much I’d craved some company and normality back in my life. I’ve felt like everything has been a bit crazy for a while now. It’s nice just to go and have an evening meal with a friend. I look over to Dane.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Anytime, Soph,” he replies.

When we pull into the drive, my mouth drops open at the sight of Dane’s house. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never been to his house and, to be honest, I never thought it would look like this. Instead, assuming he would have a lad’s pad. Some new build apartment with all the mod cons. This is something else. This house is beautiful and big, especially in London.

Before I realise it, Dane is around my side of the car and has opened the door.

“Come on Tink, let’s get into the warm,” he says reaching for my hand, which I extend to him. He takes it and leads me to the door. When we get inside, I stare at the high ceilings and beautiful details.

“It’s cold in here,” I murmur.

“Yeah sorry, I was at Pea’s when you called, so haven’t been home to heat the place up. And because it’s so big it takes a while to get warm. If we go into the lounge though, I’ll put some logs in the fireplace and it’ll be warm in no time.”

“You were at Pea’s?” I reply stupidly.

“Yeah,” he says and frowns.

“It’s just…she’ll wonder why I haven’t gone home.”

“She won’t, don’t worry. I was in the kitchen when you called.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” A grin spreads across his face. “Let’s just say it was uncomfortable, and if Pea wasn’t already pregnant, I’m pretty sure Con would have made her that way just from the kissing they were doing tonight.”

I make a gagging face and we both burst out laughing.

“Come on, give me your coat and go in the lounge. It’s through there,” he says pointing to a big white door. I shrug off my small leather biker jacket and move to the door. Opening it and walking through, I’m amazed at how large the room is. I shouldn’t be surprised, the house is huge, being London I was expecting it to be more like the size of a typical lounge. But no it’s massive. It’s decorated in browns and creams, and even though it’s huge, it still manages to look warm, inviting and cosy. I sink into one corner of the comfy sofa, kicking my shoes off and curling my legs up and under me.

Dane walks over to the fire and throws in a few logs along with some kindling and lights it up. I watch the flames take shape and wonder how some people make things look so easy.

“Sophie, will you hurry up? I want to feel the warmth. I’m unwell you know!” Mother screeched from her position on the sofa. When I’d gotten home that afternoon, she’d told me she was poorly. It was the flu - apparently. I wasn’t so sure. Usually, when people had the flu, they were bedridden and couldn’t move their muscles. Mother just had a cold. She was certainly sniffling enough to give that impression. She was also using the excuse to order me around. Not that an explanation was necessary. I’d had a cold a few weeks before hers, was bedridden, shivering and burning up. I wasn’t able to eat and was hardly drinking fluids. She still left me by myself to do her social butterfly thing.

“Sophie!” she shouted. I quickly knelt down at the fireplace. It wasn’t often used. We’d normally have the central heating on. I’d never started the fire before, but she was adamant that the fireplace had to be on, as it was the only thing that would keep her warm. She couldn’t possibly get up off the sofa to do it herself. So I loaded in the wood and then popped the kindling in as I’d seen her do in the past. I reached for the matches and pulled one out of the box. I was scared to light it. I hadn’t ever lit a match and was frightened it would burn my fingers.

“Sophie! For goodness sake, get on with it. I’m getting worse by the second!”

I struck the match against the sharp edge of the box to light it. Nothing happened. I tried again and this time the match snapped.

“Sophie, if I have to come over there!” she threatened.

I took a deep breath and the next match my shaky fingers retrieved I managed to light. With trembling hands, I leant over and held it to the kindling until it took and watched the flames ignite. I didn’t manage to pull myself back quickly enough though, and the ends of my hair caught the flame. Of course, my head was doused with hairspray as Mother fixed my hair with it every damn day. So the side of my hair quickly went up in flames, and as I was trying to put the flames out by hitting my head, they’d managed to lick behind my right ear.

“Ahhh!” I screamed.

“Here,” my mother said casually while throwing a pillow at me. “Use that to pat the side of your head, it should put the fire out.” She looked at me while I frantically patted away. “I was planning to buy new pillows, anyway,” she said almost as an afterthought to herself.

“Mother my ear hurts,” I complained.

“Oh, go and have a shower. Let some cold water run over it. You’ll be fine. The same cannot be said for your hair though. We will have to take you to the hairdressers and get your hair cut and styled in a way that it doesn’t show that significant chunk that’s now missing, thanks to your carelessness.”

I felt my eyes brimming with tears, partly because my ear really hurt and partly because my mother just didn’t care.

“Get me a glass of milk, before you go shower,” she said.

I got her milk. Wishing I could tip it over her. Instead, I passed it to her and headed for the shower. My ear was so sore. I washed and cried and got into bed.

The next day, I visited Pea’s gran, telling her that I had hurt my ear on the fireplace. I explained that I hadn’t told mother, as I didn’t want her to tell me off for playing with the fire. I’m not sure she believed me, but she did take a look. She cleaned up my ear and applied some cream which she gave to me, and told me to re-apply it regularly. She had looked down at me with her soft, sad eyes.

“Soph, maybe you should tell her,” she had coaxed. “No Granny Pea, I don’t want her to be mad.” She had stroked the good side of my head. “Soph, she should know. I mean, you shouldn’t have to take care of this yourself. You’re only eleven-years-old, hunny.”

And that’s how I remember the fire. My mother making me light it and injuring myself. She didn’t care, I don’t think she ever had.

“Food?” Dane asks in his still kneeling position in front of the fire.

“Oh, erm, yeah, food sounds good,” I mumble.

Dane looks at me quizzically, his eyes going all squinty. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure?” I say, but it comes out as a question.

Dane gets up and walks over sitting next to me. “You know, you can talk to me,” he says, and I wonder how many more people are going to say that to me today.

“I know.” I stand up and move over to the fireplace to get warm.

“Okay…I’ll just go and see what there is to cook,” Dane says walking out the room.

Holding my hands out toward the fire and feeling the warmth on them forces my emotions to flood to the surface. I still love fire. It fascinates me. How it manages to decimate everything in its path.

“There’s salmon, pork loin and chicken breast. What do you want?” Dane asks bursting back through the door.

“Salmon, it’s my favourite.”

“I’ll do a stir-fry, that way it should be ready pretty quick.”

I nod and watch him stride back out to the kitchen to prepare our food.

Sitting back on the sofa and defrosting myself as the fire takes hold, I’m just dozing off to sleep when Dane returns.

“The food’s ready. Usually, I’d eat at the table, but it’s too cold to eat in the dining room tonight, so you’ll have to manage with the plate balancing on a cushion on your lap.”

I smile. I like relaxing, and I prefer eating with the plate on my lap than at a table any day. Being forced to behave so
‘proper’
as a child brings out a need to rebel when it happens as an adult.

“That sounds good, Dane. I want to be comfortable while eating. I’ve been uncomfortable all day.”

“What?” he asks staring at me. “Did someone do something on the shoot?”

“No. Easy there, tiger.” I wink, but he doesn’t look amused. A sigh slips out of me.

“It was just the way I had to pose today, it was uncomfortable for most of the day. I was glad when it was over.”

“Well, just relax now and we can have some nice food…hopefully.” He grins at me sheepishly. “And we can watch a film if you like?”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great.” I already know I’ll probably miss the end as I’ll fall asleep.

Almost as if he’s reading my mind he says, “You can stay here tonight. If you need a break from the happy couple.” His lips twitch at the corner.

“Would that be okay?” I ask, knowing Dane wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t mean it, but my drilled-in politeness means I have to check.

“Of course. There’s five bedrooms, Tink.”

I feel my shoulders relax. Grabbing for the plate he placed on the coffee table in front of me, I plop a pillow on my lap. Dane turns the television on and it hums to life.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks balancing the plate on one knee and turning on Netflix.

Shrugging my shoulders. “I’m not bothered,” I reply around a mouthful of food.

He stops on one of the Harry Potter films and starts it. I look over to him with my eyebrow raised, but he’s not looking at me. He must feel me staring though as a moment later he looks across at me.

“What? Oh wait, haven’t you watched the Harry Potter films?” he asks pausing it. He’s clearly surprised that I might not have watched them if his widening eyes are anything to go by.

“I have seen them. So don’t worry, you don’t need to start with the first one. I’m just surprised
you
like Harry Potter. I never imagined that would be your thing,” I say then shove another forkful of food into my mouth.

“He’s the boy who lived!” Dane says with such belief that I start laughing and simultaneously choking.

“Oh my God…Oh my God!” Tears are streaming down my face now from nearly choking, but I’m still laughing. “You are funny as fuck, Dane.”

He cocks his eyebrow and says, “Don’t pretend like you don’t think Harry Potter is the shit!” Which makes me laugh even more. Then he starts laughing, knocking over his beer.

We push our food to one side and sort ourselves out. Dane clearing up the bottle of beer he spilt, and me grabbing a tissue to wipe my eyes.

“Beer?” he offers once we’re finished.

“Yeah, that would be nice, thanks.”

He wanders out grabbing both our plates at the same time, then reappears with two beers. “I didn’t ask if you wanted one with dinner. Usually, you’re careful about drinking unless you’re out at a club or something.”

I look down at the beer in my hands. “Yeah, empty calories.” My voice is laced with sadness.

“Hey,” he says and waits for me to look at him before continuing, “It’s not like you need to worry about that shit.”

“It’s not that, Dane. It’s something else.” He stays silent, waiting for me to continue. I huff and say, “I’ve worried about it for too long. I’m not sure I care anymore. That’s all,” I finish and know that’s all he’s getting out of me. Thankfully, he must get the idea because he doesn’t try to fish anything else out of me for the rest of the night.

We just have a lovely evening watching Harry Potter. Then when it finishes he puts another one on. We laugh and drink beer, but not enough to get drunk and he shows me to a spare room, which is prettily decorated in blues and whites, but it’s still very feminine.