Authors: R.J. Lewis
The Royal Show
After we had breakfast and another raunchy love fest in the shower, I took the taxi home. I reflected on our shower together all the way there. It was hotter than the first time, especially because his shower was freaking massive and bending down didn’t warrant having my face plastered to the glass.
I was walking on sunshine, and singing that silly tune in my head as I walked into the house only to climb the stairs and find Emily asleep on my bed. I paused by the doorway and watched her in concern. It’d been a while since she’d come to sleep over because she’d had a fight with her father. She did it to escape him, and seeing her in my bed again made my heart clench.
I quietly grabbed a change of clothes and backed out of the bedroom, shutting it quietly behind me. Halfway down the stairs my phone rang, and seeing “PRIVATE NUMBER CALLING” made me smile from ear to ear.
“Hello.”
“Hey, beauty,” said Ben, “just making sure you made it home.”
“I did. You know, it wouldn’t kill to give me your cell phone number so I can text you all day.”
“I can’t. I only have a work phone at the moment.”
“Is that what you’re calling me on right now?”
“Yes, it is.”
“So then get yourself a normal phone for
private
use. Hint, hint.”
He chuckled at my double meaning. “I’ll think of that. I prefer coming to see you instead of texting. Makes things a little more real. Plus you don’t know who is behind the scenes reading.”
“Well, if you want to be medieval about our relationship then I’ll just have to accept that, so long as you’re around a lot.”
He hummed in thought. “Relationship, huh?”
I froze in the hallway. “What else would you describe this? You said last night it was more than sex, so I automatically assumed that –”
He silenced me with his laugh. “I’m kidding, sweetheart.”
I relaxed. “It’s good you weren’t here to make that joke.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’d have kicked you up the ass. Or, wait,” I mused, “you’re English, so it must be ‘arse’, right? Or is it bollocks?”
“You’re being painfully stereotypical.”
“Stereotypical would have been inviting you over for scones and tea.”
“Yeah, let’s not push it. You do forget I immigrated here fifteen years ago.”
“I came here ten years ago and I’m still catching up.”
“No,” he disagreed, “you’ve got a jumbled accent. Another giveaway you weren’t a tourist.”
I strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I pulled out a chocolate bar and tore it open.
“What’re you doing?” he asked curiously.
“Pulled my chocolate out of the fridge,” I answered, taking a bite and leaning back against the counter.
“You store your chocolate in the fridge?”
“Yep.”
“Weirdo.”
I laughed. “My mother started doing it when we’d first come here. It would get so hot the chocolate would melt in the cupboard, so we’d put it in the fridge and, holy shit, cold chocolate was damn phenomenal.”
“Weirdo,” he repeated humorously. “I’m upset you’re hungry. Didn’t have enough breakfast?”
“I’m just snacking.”
With a low, serious tone, he said, “Is it bad that I miss you already? In fact, I called because I was trying to look for an excuse to see you again. I feel like a lovesick puppy right now. It’s really unbecoming of me.”
I sighed contentedly as my body tingled. God, this was too good to be true. It had to be.
“Well, I’m a bit of a loner,” I told him, smiling so wide my cheeks ached, “so if you wanted to pop by anytime, you’re free to.”
“Anytime? I might abuse that privilege.”
“Anytime,” I said adamantly. “And abuse away. I like to have sexy, English men with deep voices and beautiful bodies stalking me. And I prefer them naked all the time.”
“All the time?”
“All the freaking time.”
“Be careful what you wish for, beauty.”
“No, being careful wouldn’t have led me to you.” And that was the truth. I’d never have kissed him if I was too chicken shit to do the dare.
“No, it wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Now look, I need to find an excuse to see you sooner.”
“How soon?”
“Pathetically soon. Have any suggestions in that sexy little mind of yours?”
I thought for a moment, flicking through places in my head. There wasn’t much to do in this city without trying really hard to find something.
And then it hit me.
I gasped. “I know what!”
“Hit me with it.”
“The Royal Show. I think the final day is tomorrow, and you missed out last year.”
“How about we go today?”
I jumped up and down, unable to contain my excitement. “You’re right. Pretty pathetically soon.”
“I know. I think this is what you young ones call ‘pussy whipped’.”
I laughed.
We sorted out a time to meet and got off the phone. I hurried back into my bedroom and went through my closet. By then Emily was stirring awake. She turned to her side and watched me with an amused look.
“What’s the lucky bitch up to?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
“Ben wants to go to the Royal Show with me,” I answered excitedly.
“Didn’t you just come back from his place?”
“Yep.”
She laughed. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up.” I stopped and gave her a look over. “How are you doing?” I asked in a more concerned voice.
“I’m alright,” she reassured me. “Just needed to avoid an alcohol fuelled rant from good ol’ dad, you know?”
I nodded. “You know, I’m here for you, right?”
“And I’m here for you too. Now find something cute and semi-slutty to wear. And show some damn cleavage. He’ll want to see your boobs. That way you can tease him all day long.”
I pulled out some clothes, allowing her for once to pick a suitable outfit. By th
e end, I was in black tights, a red low-cut tank top, and a grey cardigan to keep me warm.
I smiled at myself in the mirror before heading out.
I felt good, and I
looked
good.
*****
We met at the entrance of the grounds. Ben walked right up to me and kissed me as though he hadn’t seen me for years. I was so surprised, I would have been knocked back if he hadn’t already wrapped an arm around me.
“You look incredible,” he said, taking a step back to run his eyes over my body.
I checked out his jeans and thin grey sweater and said, “So do you. All dressed like us normal people.”
“Normal? Coming from a girl who stores her chocolate in the fridge.”
“As opposed to?”
“The cupboard.”
I laughed as we stepped into the giant line at the ticket booth and said, “Okay, let’s play this game then. Where do you store your ketchup?”
“Ketchup? You mean tomato sauce?”
I cringed. “We’re going to be butting heads all day.”
He chuckled. “I store it in the cupboard.”
“Ugh.”
His face fell. “No. Tell me you do not.”
I nodded proudly. “Fridge!”
“Fuckin’ hell. Does everything go in the fridge with you?”
“No… Maybe.”
“Okay,” he said, “my turn. Bread crusts on or off?”
“Off.”
“Oh, no.” He frowned gravely. “I’m not sure we’re compatible after all.”
I gave him a smack on the shoulder. “You seriously eat the bread crusts with your sandwiches?”
“Absolutely.”
“Now you’re the weirdo.”
We bantered like this until we got our tickets and entered the grounds. There were people everywhere, and kids running and screaming with their faces painted and their hands full of candy.
While we strolled through the fairground, passing exhibits and animal shows, I barely took anything in. My eyes were solely reserved for Ben, and he seemed just as enamoured with me. It was so unlike last year’s trip here – when Emily and I had scoured the grounds for hot guys and loaded our pockets with their numbers.
I had more fun this time around, even though we didn’t really do anything except eat and watch the animal shows. It was the perfect excuse to see each other in a relaxed environment.
It was while I was buying cinnamon donuts that Ben kept a distance away to answer some phone calls. I waited in line and watched him. His face
twisted in irritation at the heated conversation he was having.
I looked away. I had to mind my own business. Call it ignorance, I didn’t want to know about that part of him. It was better being in the dark. Besides, what a person considered as “work” didn’t define them as a whole.
“Damn,” muttered a voice behind me, “check out that ass.”
A low whistle sounded, and when I turned to look behind me, two guys smiled in return as they blatantly checked me out. Not wanting to acknowledge them, I looked away quickly. But I’d be lying if I said the attention didn’t make me happy.
A tap on the shoulder followed and a voice in my ear whispered, “You got a name, love?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, come on. A name, please?”
I didn’t respond.
“Do I have to beg for a name –”
“Fuck off,” came Ben’s harsh voice as he stood right beside with an arm wrapped around my waist. “You saw me standing with her minutes ago, fuck-heads. Have some bloody decency.”
Silence.
I held my laughter in until after I bought the tray of donuts. Then we continued our trek through the grounds while Ben scared off anyone that looked my way.
*****
It was dark when we finally left. I was pretty sure I’d eaten my body weight in cinnamon donuts and cotton candy. We strolled to a nearby park, the air getting chillier by the minute.
“That was so much fun,” I said to him. “Thanks for taking me out and spoiling me.”
We sat down on a bench under a gazebo. The park was silent and void of people. I leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around me.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I wish I could say the same.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because your tight little outfit attracted way too much attention. My eyes are sore from glaring.”