AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You lot ready?” our Camden crawl representative asks. It’s not the first semi-hypothetical he’s lobbed at the crowd with a relentless grin, but everyone answers as if he genuinely needs to hear from all of us.
I’ve never met a perkier person. He makes everyone laugh.
We follow him like sheep on a rope, enthralled by our leader doling out free drink tickets. At the first stop, he gathers us like we are his children, and he explains the schedule.
“This is Camden’s Recreational Debauchery district, which is a long arse of a road. Tonight we’re going bar-to-bar, but don’t settle in. Because I’ll be calling for us to move on in what feels like ten bloody seconds.” He pauses. “Get blitzed”—people cheer, so he raises his voice—“expect London prices to murder your wallet, and for the love of the Queen for those drinking British beers, they are supposed to taste that way. Don’t form an opinion until you’ve had a few, and by then, you’ll be loving ’em.”
He continues after the laughter fades. “Walk with a pint because it tells people you are a person worth being friends with. Because isn’t that what we all want? Love, acceptance and friendlyfookinfaces!”
With that, we rush inside the first establishment.
It’s chaos as welcome shots get passed around. Some sort of spice and sugar blooms in my mouth when I toss one back.
“It’s candy,” I say, giving one to Huan.
“I can’t.”
“Just one, and I’ll stop bothering you.”
“Is that a promise?”
After he downs it, I whisper in his ear, “Not at all.”
His mouth curves, and he holds the upper half of my arm. I place a palm on his chest. We aren’t close to being tipsy, but since we're in a pub crowded with people, close quarters is an absolute necessity.
There are extra welcome shots. I detangle, swipe another, and then come back to Huan. Mentally, I've already let loose. There's a strong urge to behave in a way that pushes my bodyguard to call me a brat again.
Is that my mission? That would be shameless.
I am shameless.
Also, why is it suddenly my favourite endearment? I want to force him to say it with that stern voice of his.
Oblivious to my needs, he asks, “What is it you want to do tonight?”
So goal oriented and focused, what Huan Li means is,How can I make it happen?
Other words bullet through my brain, and I can’t help but shiver.Use me.
He said that to me as a professional offer after those hostel d-bags crowded around me, but I don’t feel professional right now. An urge to notch the stakes higher pulses inside me. Not just because of Huan, but because of me.On this Camden crawl, I want to weep at the freedom. Yes, I’ve been traipsing around the city solo-travelling (plus Huan), but we’ve been sticking to small groups. Tonight I can be myself in public… at a large event… where there is music and dancing. And welcome shots.
It feels like a night whereanythinghappens, where time should not flee but be sipped, where sensory details are glow-in-the-dark paint being drawn in the air. Even if floors are sticky, walls look vaguely mildewed and frothy beers splatter everywhere, all I feel is excitement!
We’ve all bought in. This night is going to be epic.
I grab another shot from a wandering tray. A burn down my throat invigorates me, and I get close to Huan. “A dance floor means that at some point, pelvises must grind together. Thrustage is unavoidable.”
“Komal.”
I've never heard my name uttered as a spank.
“I’ll be gentle,” I promise, my voice on the knife’s edge of teasing.
“HR—”
“Is that your safe word? It can be if you want.”
When he touches the side of my head, I hold my breath. Is it happening? Is Huan acknowledging thisundercurrentbetween us? A piece of hair is gently thumbed back.
