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Seven
Wes
Okay, I’ll admit it, this email exchange with Daredevil has definitely taken me by surprise. It’s not that I wasn’t expecting him to respond to my initial email—I did kind of poke the bear, after all—but I assumed I’d be dealing with another bombastic tirade from a hot-headed arsehole like the one he sent Natasha. That would have been ridiculously easy to ignore, and I’d be able to get on with things, satisfied that the job was done. But, of course, that wasn’t what happened. Nope. Instead of the tirade I’d been expecting, he decided to be all rational and even a little snarky. It was about as far removed from the original email as you could imagine.
And worst of all…it made me feel bad. It’s a rare day when I’ll admit that I was wrong, but, yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away with the threats in my initial response.Obviously,I was never going to actually carry them out, but I can definitely see now that I might have gone a little overboard.
“Wesley Holt, I’m very angry at you!” Natasha declares as she bursts into my flat, a whirlwind of raven hair, sequins and heels, startling me out of the hyperfocus I’d been in with my current sketch.
“Nice skirt,” I say with a smirk. “I didn’t know sequins were mainstream now.”
She lets out a huff of annoyance. “This isn’t sequins, it’s gold mesh. I swear, you’re the worst gay ever.”
I mock-cringe. “Oh no! I hope they don’t take away my license to practise over this.”
Tash just rolls her eyes and stalks over to the couch, where she flops down before immediately removing her sky-high heels.
I close my sketchbook and set it on the coffee table, getting to my feet and striding over to the kitchen. “Drink?”
“Just water. And crisps,” she orders. “I need to line my stomach for tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” I ask curiously as I rummage through my cupboards for some crisps. I finally find a packet and toss them over to Tash before filling a glass with water for her and grabbing a beer for myself.
“Sour cream and onion?” she exclaims. “Eww!”
I roll my eyes. “Take or leave. Those are all I have.”
She lets out annoyed huff and tears the bag open. “Doubt I’ll be kissing anyone tonight, anyway.”
“Why would you be kissing anyone?” My face screws up in confusion and I take a moment to study her. “Why are you dressed like you’re going clubbing?”
“Because I’m going clubbing,” she says simply. “Ooh, you should come with us! We’ll probably end up in Soho.”
I let out a little snort of laughter and sink back onto the couch, beer in hand. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
She shrugs. “Okay, but don’t complain to me about how you haven’t had a shag in ages.”
I let out a huff of wry laughter. I think “ages” might be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s been about a month; which, admittedly is actually a bit of a stretch for me, but I’ve been insanely busy with work recently, not to mention Mum and Emma enlisting me for help with the wedding at every opportunity. Guess I won’t need to worry about that anymore—yet another bonus of my sister finally seeing the light.
I’m about to break the news to Tash when she turns to me, levelling me with a hard glare. “You promised me you wouldn’t respond to that email.”
My brows shoot up in surprise and I attempt to make my expression appear as guilt-free as possible. “What makes you think I did?”
“He told me you did!” she says with an exasperated shake of her head. “When he emailed to apologise.”
I toss my head back, letting out a grunt of annoyance.Of course,the prat was a tattletale. Then the second part of what she said registers and I snap my gaze up to stare at Tash. “Wait—he apologised?”
She nods. “Yeah. He explained that he never meant to actually send the email, but even so he shouldn’t have written all those things and he felt bad about upsetting me. And,” she adds with a bright smile, “he threw in a two hundred quid gift card to Tattu.”
My eyes practically bug out of their sockets. “Bloody hell.Two hundred quid?”I grin at her. “When are we going?”
“Who saysyou’recoming with me?”
“Hey, if it weren’t for me, he never would have apologised,” I point out. “Which brings me to an important point—I can’t believe he thinks he can just buy you off like that. How does he know you’d enjoy going to a place like that? There he goes making assumptions again.”
Natasha just rolls her eyes. “He was beingnice, Wes. He made a mistake and wanted to make up for it.”
“He’s a twat. Trust me,” I tell her. “When I emailed him, he assumed I was a woman just because I was defending you.”
