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“Where did you learn?”
“Family cook. Family bake. Always Christmas cookies.”
“I love Christmas cookies too...are you sad to not be going home this Christmas?”
He shrugs. “Miss family, yes. But happy here.”
“Tell me about your family?”
“Mother only. Father dead. Five sisters.”
“Whoa, you have five sisters?”
“Yes,” his face lights up, “all younger. I am oldest. Big responsibility.” Yeah, I’ll say. I can’t imagine leaving to go and live in a different country and parting with a single mum and five younger sisters.
“What are their names and ages?” Ace rattles off their details and tells me a little about life at home in Slovenia. It sounds amazing. I can’t fathom why he’s here. When I ask him, he just says that he’s here to study, so I go back to asking him about the baking.
“TV bad in Slovenia. Family watch English show every time. Cooking old lady. Berry lady.”
“Do you mean Mary Berry? Your family all watches her show?”
“Yes!” He nods delightedly. “Big fan of old lady. Good baking. One day be like.”
“One day, you want to be like an old lady?” I tease.
He pushes me, too hard, and I start to a slide sideways off the stool. I quickly reach out and grab him to steady myself, but because I take him by surprise, he too topples sideways, and in a moment we’re on the floor. I’m sprawled out on my back, unhurt, and Ace is laid on top of me. Our faces are so close that his warm breath tickles my cheek.
“Neroden,” he says again, softly this time. It almost sounds warm and affectionate like a term of endearment. He gently kisses my lips, barely a whisper of contact. “Lepa, krasen, carobno, zapeljiva dekle.” With each compliment - I just know from the soft tone of his voice and the tender look in his eyes that he’s complimenting me - he kisses me lightly on the lips. He’s still pressed on top of me, but he’s holding his weight from being crushing; instead, it’s comforting. Our chests are pressed together, and I’m breathing hard. I can feel his elevated heartbeat thudding against mine in a crazy pitter-patter rhythm. His gentle kisses have me lightheaded and greedy for more. I want this beautiful, sensitive, kind boy to kiss me properly.
A low groan escapes my lips from somewhere deep in my throat, and that seems to be the green light he was holding out for because in the blink of an eye his lips are firmly on mine, kissing me with a desperate fervour that leaves me breathless. Ace has never kissed me like this before; like he’s a drowning man in the last throes of life and I’m his one chance at salvation. His lips move against mine with bruising force, but I relish it and meet his passion equally. I want more.
When his hand slides under my top and lightly grazes my stomach, I jerk, tickled by the sensitive sensation. I don’t hesitate to arch my back a little to encourage him to slide my top up and over my head. We kiss furiously the entire time, only breaking apart for a split second to remove the shirt. My fingers frantically scrabble at the buttons on his shirt and push the material off his shoulders and down his arms. That’s when we reach a snag because I can’t seem to pull the sleeves from his arms.
We break apart, panting hard, and Ace growls, “Sranje!” and makes quick work of the cuffs. While he’s pulled away from me, sat back and straddling my hips, I drink him in greedily. I’ve seen him shirtless so many times - sparring, running, relaxing in the hot tub - that I feel like I have all the lines of his body memorised, but at the same time, I feel like I’m seeing him properly for the first time.
I reach up and run my fingers over the ridges of his abdomen, loving how firm and toned he is, mesmerised by how he shudders under my touch. He truly is a work of art; his body is pure perfection. I rise up a little to loop my arms around his neck and sink back, pulling him down to the floor with me. He’s been gone too long, and I hate the distance between us. This time when my back hits the cool kitchen floor, it’s only for a moment as Ace loops his arms under me and rolls so that he’s on his back and I’m straddling him. I can feel his arousal pressing through his jeans, and I wriggle slightly to test its size. I’m not disappointed. “Jebemti -,” he groans, so I do it again. His hands shoot out and grab my hips, forcing me to stay still, and I pout at him. “Nevarna igra, majhna puncka.” I have no idea what he’s saying to me, but it sounds sexy as hell like he’s losing control.
A shrill beeping sound distracts us from our make-out session, and I pull back, confused. “What the hell?” Ace shoves me off him and quickly clambers to his feet. He rushed over to the oven and silences the timer - oh! - and proceeds to remove yet another sheet of cookies from the oven with a mitt.
“Shoo,” he waves his hand at me, and I’m seriously about to lose my shit at him. What is going on? “Out. I need tidy. Go!” He comes over and all but pushes me backwards out of the kitchen door. “Lepa moteca dekle.” He shakes his head as he turns away and disappears back into the kitchen.
I’m pissed. Absolutely fuming. What’s the girl version of blue balls? Because I’m that too. I huff and slam and stomp off upstairs to my room. That’s the first time I’ve ever been rejected in favour of food. Food that he isn’t even planning on eating either! The insult is too much. I need a long cold shower.
When I’ve cooled down - in more ways than one - I start to think I may have overreacted slightly. While I’d happily pull this stroppy girlie crap with the other guys, I can’t help but wonder if it’s pointless to do it with Ace. I don’t think he’d understand my passive-aggressive, snarky comments or lousy mood anyway. I sigh as I sit on the bed and dry my hair. I’m just sulking because things were just getting interesting with Ace. If I’m honest with myself, I want to fuck him. And it doesn’t have anything to do with my revenge plan. I want to sleep with him because I like him. Really like him. And I don’t know if my heart’s just overruling my head, or if I’m trying to kid myself, but my gut tells me that he isn’t involved in Lizzie’s death at all.
Lizzie’s Journal
Feb 28th
I'm trying to remember where I left off! It was so long ago the details have faded in my mind... only joking Sis! They’re burned in my memory forever.
My date with Rebel was really good, taking place near the end of January. He took me out for tacos, and I got in a right mess. He didn’t care, though. It was definitely an ice breaker. And he even took me straight from school, so there was no chance of him standing me up (his words not mine!) He seemed a bit shy at first, but we got to talking, and things were easier. He’s really funny. He has quite a fiery temper - like you Charl - and I loved it when he talked about his music. He’s really passionate and animated. He said he’d take me out after his next gig if I came to watch it and I’m really looking forward to it.
Which leads me on to my next date: with Thorn. He took me to the cinema after approaching me at lunch and asking me out one day. He’s loud and boisterous and quick to laugh so I expected that he’d picked the cinema as an excuse to feel me up in the dark. But he didn’t. He also insisted on a chick flick, which I assumed he was just choosing to please me, but to be honest, I think he enjoyed it more than I did! I spent most of the film watching him. His face is so animated, his reactions over the top. He’s playful and funny, and his kisses are the same. I love that he finds joy in everything.
Finally, Jax approached me to ask for a date. It was probably the one I was most nervous about because I know him the least. I find him intense and intimidating, which you’ll probably laugh at because if you could see the size of Rebel you’d expect me to be scared of him. He’s a pussy cat though. Not Jax. There’s something...darker about him. I’m intrigued enough to want to go on a date with him though.
So there you have it, Charlie. You’re probably reading this and moaning about the total lack of detail from me, but a girl has to have some secrets, doesn’t she?
Love ya, sis!
