Quick note before you enter Scarlett’s world - given this crazy thing called chronology, I recommend starting with chapter 1 (wild I know)!!
A few bites in, Scarlett felt her blood sugar levels ease into balance. Annoyingly, Albie was right – she had been hungry. He sat across the table, leaning back in a relaxed posture, arm stretched over the chair to his left. As he watched her, he seemingly grew more content with each mouthful she ate.
“What’s with the grin?” she eventually asked.
“Nothing, you just look cute.”
“I want to be sexy not cute.”
“You know I think you’re that too.”
“Do you shamelessly offer the same empty flattery to every girl you bring home?” Scarlett said, standing to look around the living room before he had the chance to answer.
He had taken her straight to the kitchen and made pasta while she sat on the counter, legs dangling off the edge. They spoke about life. She described how some days it felt like she was going insane in the corporate world, being told what to do and surrounded by people taking their jobs too seriously in some subconscious attempt to make themselves feel important. He told her about the imposter syndrome he sometimes felt in social settings, despite the confident demeanour others perceived.
From the living room, Scarlett heard Albie clearing the empty pasta bowls. She studied the pictures on the mantel piece above the fireplace, spotting more innocent versions of Albie and Miles. Both grinning, their arms were looped around each other, faces less battered by life.
“How did you and Miles become friends?”
“Ah yes, he said you met last night.”
She made herself at home on the sofa, waiting for him to elaborate until impatience got the better of her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Albie released a sigh as he sank into the other end, evidently in no rush to answer her. “School. We met when we were eight and have stuck together since. He’s probably my best mate.”
Scarlett nodded.
“Who’s your best friend?” Albie asked.
“Ivy.”
“Ivy is your sister.”
“Thank you for the reminder – I wouldn’t have known had you not mentioned it.”
He squinted his eyes. “I mean, Ivy doesn’t count. Apart from Ivy, who is your best friend?”
“Grace.” She hesitated. “Or maybe Thea – my friend from university. Sometimes it feels like Grace doesn’t understand me fully whereas Thea’s a little more perceptive.”
“What doesn’t Grace understand about you?”
“Grace assumes we’re the same – that there’s only one way to see and experience the world. It’s not a criticism, one of my favourite things about her is that she doesn’t overanalyse, she just lives. Perhaps I should be more like that.”
His eyebrows hinted at a frown but didn’t fully go there. “I like the way your mind works. Don’t change it.”
A decade of therapy had nothing on the inner-child healing potential of those few words.
“We don’t have to have sex, by the way,” he said, breaking the stare they were locked in.
“What?” She tensed at how clearly laced with disappointment her response was. It wasn’t even that she wanted sex. What she wanted was to be irresistible.
He couldn’t escape a smile. “As in, that isn’t why I brought you back here. I wanted you to eat.”
“Oh, right.”
“Scarlett, it’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you. I obviously do. It’s just that we don’t have to.”
“I know that. What about Miles?”
“Are you asking me if Miles wants to sleep with you?”
Scarlett rolled her eye, half for show given she hoped Miles wanting to sleep with her wouldn’t be too wild a concept – she did desire to be desired after all.
“You have this habit of jumping from one topic to the next, totally unrelated and without warning. So, forgive me for needing a second to adjust.”
He’d got there once before.
“Does Miles get you the way Ivy gets me?” she clarified.
“So many questions about Miles.”
“Why, are you jealous?”
“Should I be?”
“If you’re worried I’m into your best friend, give one of the lucky girls on your roster a quick call.”
His expression shifted, then settled. “I don’t know where you’ve got this roster idea from, but to answer your question, I do think Miles gets me fully. We’ve known each other for a long time and been through some pretty rough times together.”
Albie had let her into periods of his life when he struggled to see what the point of it all was. He told her the pursuit of adrenaline was an attempt to find an antidote to what otherwise felt like a void of meaning.
Scarlett got up to resume her self-guided tour of the living room. The house had that classic Notting Hill look of high ceilings combined with long-sash windows. It felt lived in, contrasting with the more polished homes she had grown up in, despite four children in the mix. She and Ivy had two older brothers – Rory and Patrick, slightly removed from their sisters’ everyday lives given the age gap. Everything Ivy knew about being a protective older sibling, she had learned from the brothers.
“Why do your parents keep this house if they don’t live here and you’re in New York?” Scarlett asked.
“It’s a good question.”
She knew it was a good question, or she wouldn’t have raised it.
“They still use it sometimes, as does my sister,” Albie continued. “Besides, my mum likes that I stay here when I’m back from New York.”
“Oh, how the rich and privileged live.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to give me that chat.”
Scarlett’s phone buzzed on the kitchen table. She walked over, grateful for the distraction – there was only so much staring at Albie she could stomach before going insane. A message from Grace reminded her it wasn’t exactly great form to leave without saying goodbye. The excess question marks in the message were still arguably unnecessary. Ivy had also texted, asking if everything was alright.
Scarlett put the phone on silent and placed it face down.
“You’re still loving the single life in New York?” she said from the kitchen. While the question was self-sabotage, there was also something thrilling about guys who weren’t looking for relationships. They were harder to win over – the case had to be stronger.
“Work being busy hasn’t left much time for dating,” he replied.
Anyone’s guess as to whether that was the truth or a commendable attempt at evasion. Either way, Scarlett was slowly learning that Albie had a talent for avoiding the question of what he wanted without ruling out it could be her.
She hovered at the entrance to the living room. “They say American girls love a British accent so I’m sure they’re all very disappointed.”
“Come here,” he said, standing up from the sofa.
without ruling out it could be her.
She hovered at the entrance to the living room. “They say American girls love a British accent so I’m sure they’re all very disappointed.”
“Come here,” he said, standing up from the sofa.
“Why?”
“So I can kiss you.”
She fiddled with the pendant attached to the delicate gold chain around her neck. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex?”
His laugh was marginally concerning as she hadn’t meant to be funny.
“Firstly, I never said I didn’t want to have sex with you. I just said we didn’t have to, and we still don’t. Secondly, I’m only trying to kiss you for Christ’s sake.”
“You can’t just kiss me when you want to.”
“No?” he said, walking towards her.
Scarlett lifted her chin and rolled her slightly hunched shoulders back.
He slid a hand to each hip and slowly pulled her towards him. She let him, questioning whether her instinct that he too felt something made her naïve. Maybe, but the pace of her heartbeat at the sensation of him against her suggested it wasn’t the time to wonder. Or maybe, that was precisely the reason she should wonder.
He wasn’t just looking – he was seeing her. Taking her subtle shift towards him as permission, Albie brought his mouth to hers. He waited for her lips to part before claiming her deliberately. His hands slipped to her lower back, tracing the strip of skin between her jeans and halter top.
Scarlett pulled back. “I think I might be ready for bed.”
“Do you want to go home?”
“Not really.”
Albie took her cheeks in his palms and kissed her again, deeper this time, before leading her upstairs by the hand, his thumb stroking circles against her palm.
His bedroom matched the sense of mystery he was known for. There were signs – random pictures and trinkets which probably weren’t random at all – but for the most part, it was impersonal.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Albie said, treating her to a torso flash as he peeled off his jumper. The insistent stir it prompted deep within her served as a reminder of the places he’d sent her that night.
“Just observing,” Scarlett said. “What’s going on in your head?”
“Also observing.” His line of sight made the object of his observation clear.
Albie reached for her waist, guiding her so the backs of her legs brushed the bed. Delicately, he moved her hair with his fingers, leaving exposed her bare chest and collarbones. He kissed her pale shoulder, following the line of her neck until he found her mouth. Scarlett surrendered to the building heat inside of her, pulling him with her as she fell back onto the bed. His hands snuck beneath her top, roaming her body with a sense of familiarity. She arched her back into his touch and felt him smile against her lips.
He broke the kiss to admire her from above.
“I meant it, Scarlett,” he said, breathing heavily. “We really don’t have to have sex.”
“That’s sweet, but we both know I call the shots.”
He shook his head, leaning on his forearms, tangled in her long, hazel hair. The irony, of course, was that she couldn’t feel less in control when it came to him.
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I am hookedddd🥹👌🏾❤️
Ever thought of making a chapter in Albie’s POV?