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“Where’s Billy?” Sapphire asked as we were leaving the station.
“He left in a hurry after making his statement. Cops freak him out. He can’t afford another conviction.”
“Oh, really? He’s been in trouble before?” she looked alarmed.
“Let’s say we both had difficult pasts.” I looked at Manon, who I imagined understood the meaning of that because I was sure she also had a troubled history.
Chapter 7
Manon
Wejumpedinataxi and dropped Sapphire off at her house. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We can go shopping again if you like.”
She smiled and gave me one of her uncertain nods. I think she couldn’t believe my sudden attachment.
I’d never really had a girlfriend before. I guess it helped that, despite her sweet nature, she was half broken like me, given how her mother had left them when she was young. Also, her angelic innocence played on my heartstrings and somehow sparked this desire to support her by buying her things. Before meeting up with Drake and Billy, we had done a spin around Oxford Street, where I’d bought her a pair of jeans. She had hugged me, leaving a teary stain on my silk blouse. I didn’t mind. It felt nice.
Perhaps subconsciously, I craved some of that hopeful, blind trust she put in people, which was the opposite of me. I put my walls up, assuming everyone had ulterior motives, which made me paranoid. I hadn’t exactly had outstanding role models.
Over and above everything, however, helping Sapphire gave me a deep satisfaction, even more so than when I bought myself something. It was the same warm, fuzzy feeling I’d only experienced once after my grandmother had accepted me and even suggested I change my surname to Lovechilde. After I got over the initial shock, I fell in love with that idea. Who wouldn’t want to be known as a Lovechilde?
I’d even noticed my grandmother smiling more lately, which was probably due to love. The only time a smile came naturally to me was around Drake.
Was I in love? Maybe in lust. But then, he wasn’t exactly throwing himself at me.
Maybe I really was too young for him.
Strange how the world was—older men wanted younger women, and young guys gravitated towards older women.
I planned to change that. At least with Drake. I couldn’t discourage girls from tossing themselves at older men to secure their futures, however. I wasn’t superwoman.
As we drove to my place, I sat close to Drake. Our shoulders touched, making it the closest I’d ever been to him physically for a prolonged period. I could smell his soap and sweat. Or was that tension from the fight? Whichever way, sexy.
Going on his long face, Drake seemed shitty with me. I couldn’t blame him. I hated myself for not walking away from those drunken dickheads. Me and my big mouth. It had just sprung out of nowhere before I’d even had time to think. Like there was a bad me lurking within, waiting to pounce and unleash a dark spirit.
Disruptor and provocateur a therapist had once described me as at that therapy session forced on me after being caught shoplifting.
I hadn’t known what those words meant, but I’d looked them up, and my dark side had almost smiled. Better than being well-behaved and under the thumb, I thought. But currently, I wasn’t so sure, because that react-first-deal-with-the-fallout-later programming had placed a wedge between me and Drake. Or maybe his coolness towards me was more to do with him not being interested.
Then why those long gazes at the pub? Like when I wasn’t looking, which I still noticed, of course. I always noticed things about Drake. Even from across a large room, I sensed him gawking.
“That was some night.” Drake sighed.
“Are you okay?” I asked, turning to get a good look at that beautiful face. Roughed up, he looked even better. “From where I was standing, you were blocking their punches. I didn’t notice you take a hit.” My voice sounded thin. I hadn’t even apologised for inflaming the situation. “That was awesome, by the way. You and Billy on those five guys.” I chuckled. “I bet they’ll be sore tomorrow.”
His brow puckered, and he gave me a piercing look. “You enjoyed that?”
His angry tone turned me to wood.
Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. That apology just couldn’t make it to my mouth. Why was I so fucking emotionally constipated?
Given his rough tone, I was busting to give him the middle finger, but I dug my nails into my palms for a hit of pain instead. “Well, it’s nice to have strong males fighting for my honour.”
He laughed coldly. “You make it sound like something out of the fucking nineteenth century. The guy was a first-rate arsehole, but unless someone comes at you swinging, it pays to ignore them. Can’t you see he was itching for a fight?”
Fire bit my belly. “Oh gee, thanks for the advice.”
He just responded with a loud puff, and just as a trickle of sweat slid between my shoulders, we arrived at my mother’s Knightsbridge house. She’d gone away to Paris with her rich boyfriend, which meant I had the house to myself.
