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“Erm…”
“Nope. I don’t want to hear it. Clear your schedule for next weekend. By the end of it, you and Freddie Camden will be k-i-s-s-i-n-g and well on the way to officially becoming my sister within the year. Mark my words.”
Like I said, I’ve known this girl long enough to know that when an idea forms in her head, there’s no point in trying to dissuade her. So I shrug, laugh, and go with the flow. Either I’llend up a weird fifth wheel in a couples dinner party, eating and drinking more than I should, with Freddie cancelling at the last minute. Or he’ll turn up and be the arsehole version of him and I’ll need to drink copious amounts of alcohol to stop myself from throttling him. Either way I’m getting a free dinner and alcohol. What’s to moan about?
Everything. Everything is to moan about. I was wrong. My life has taken a dangerous turn and I’m questioning my friend choices right now.
Ivy and Lola are tag teaming me. I’ve not only been roped into shopping, which I hate, but I’m also standing in the changing room wearing a dress they both insisted I try on that shows off my hoo-ha when I bend over. I yank the curtain back and hiss for them to come to me because I don’t want everyone else in the shop seeing me in my exposed state.
“OH.EM.GEE. You look amazing, Bebe.” Lola's excited squeal causes me to shoot her a death stare and she steps behind Ivy and utters something that sounds like ‘eeep.’
“Okay, I take it we don’t like this dress then?” Ivy states a matter of factly as she tries to fight her smirk.
“Dress? It’s hardly a bloody dress, Ivy. It’s barely a top. And everyone can see everything. Look.” I proceed to bend over and give them both a glimpse of my knicker clad bum. “I’m not looking for a new job, and if I was it wouldn't involve walking the streets looking for clients. You two are in serious trouble.” I fold my arms over my chest and glare at them.
Ivy giggles and Lola speaks from behind her sister's shoulder. “In my defence, that dress would be knee length on me as I’m ashort arse. It’s you and those luscious long legs of yours that are making it so short.”
“Luscious legs. Nice alliteration there, Lola, but I don’t think flattery is going to work in this situation.” Ivy smirks at me, completely ignoring my frown in response. “Give me five minutes, don’t hurt Lola, and I’ll bring some longer length dresses back.”
My glare follows her through the shop and then shoots back to Lola who ‘eeeps’ again.
“She said not to hurt me.” She throws her hands up in a karate style move and then chops into thin air with her hand. I giggle and shake my head as she lowers her hands down and smirks at me.
“I won’t hurt you and you don’t know karate.”
“Shhhh, don’t tell everyone.”
I throw my head back and laugh and she places her hand on the bottom of the dress to cover my modesty.
“Maybe that dress is a little short after all,” she mutters and I look down at her and smile.
“Oh really, you think?” I step back inside my little cubicle and slump onto the seat that’s more like a footstool. “What am I doing, Lola? I’m getting all dressed up for what? He won’t show up. And if he does, nothing will come of it. I may as well come wearing my sweats, no makeup, and scuff my hair into a messy bun. Maybe I need to get over him.”
“Yeah, you do. By getting under him first.” Lola steps into the cubicle with me and sits crossed legged on the floor. She looks so much like Scarlet with her dark hair and big doe-like eyes. “Don’t give up. You’ve been in love with Freddie since we were kids. And I know he loves you too. His capacity for love right now is buried under stupid promises and grief, but that's why we’re doing this. If we can get him drunk, we can get him to admit hisfeelings. And then once he does that, you can live happily ever after together. It’s the perfect plan.”
She smiles up at me, and instead of letting her know I think her plan is extremely flawed, I smile and nod. Part of me hopes she's right and I end up with Freddie Bear and not arsehole Freddie. But the other half, the more realistic side, knows I’m taking a one way trip to Alonesville, population, me!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Freddie
Sometimes the idea of being an only child is really appealing to me. Not having to deal with your sister's stupid ideas or having your other sister guilt trip you into attending stupid dinner parties that you don’t want to attend sounds ideal. But unfortunately, I’m not an only child, Idohave to deal with Lola’s stupid ideas, and Iwasguilt tripped by Ivy who told me I’d upset Lola by calling her dinner party a stupid idea and I needed to make it up to her.
I don’t like upsetting my sisters. Especially Lola. She’s sensitive and takes everything personally. And even though I know this, and it’ll make me feel like shit, I still manage to do things to upset her. It’s why I’m dressing to the nines to drive twenty minutes to my sister's house to have dinner with her, Dan, Ivy, and Ivy’s latest boyfriend. Something I’ve done wearing sweats before, but tonight calls for a formal dress code. So I’m wearing a suit, under strict instructions from Ivy, to make Lola happy. And like the sucker I am for my baby sister, I’ll do whatever it takes to see her happy.
Sliding the blazer over my shoulders and grabbing the bottle of champagne I swiped from the restaurant, perks of being the owner, I head out the front door, jump into the car and pull out of my driveway. Sliding the volume up loud, I let Ed Sheeran sing to me. His songs always make me feel happy. And knowing I’m about to spend the next few hours—hours I should be at the restaurant making sure everything is okay—with people I love, makes me happy. There’s no one else I’d rather be spending my time with.
Well, apart from Phoebe. The mere thought of her has my heart beating faster and my dick stirring. She’s been on my mind a lot since the whole park fiasco. This is what happens when I spend time with her. The more I see her, the more I want.
But I can’t have her.
I won’t leave her behind.
So instead of spending every minute I have with her, I run away and avoid her. Because I’m a bloody coward.
Ed’s voice floats through the speakers, singing about his perfect partner, and instead of finding it soothing, it agitates me. I tap my fingers on the wheel in frustration instead of to the melody and turn the volume down.
The more annoyance swarms through my body, the more my heart starts to pound. My vision starts to get blurry and I pull the car over quickly and safely. Tingles have taken over my left hand and I grip the steering wheel tightly. I force my eyes closed as I breathe through the pain. Fuck. These are getting stronger and more frequent. I need to get a grip. I focus on taking deep breaths again. It’s the only thing I know to do to try to control these attacks, whatever they are.
