Page 38 of Peep

Jay

Sorry, text to speech, lol. I’m two minutes away, sweetheart.

Pfft, fucking sweetheart. Is he having a laugh? How is he so chill? He has an actual person he’s kidnapped rolling around in his boot, and he still has time to use pet names. Yet here I am, crawling out of my skin and experiencing aggressive palpitations. This is a terrible idea. I really will risk everything for a good piece of arse and pretty brown eyes.

I wedge my foot in the door, half hanging out of the exit, looking back and forth between the lifts and car park. What feels like two minutes passes, and my heart pounds like I’ve taken ecstasy.

Jahmar’s car swings around the corner, lights on full beam. Bloody idiot, he isn’t even trying to be discreet.

He pulls up right outside the exit and jumps out of the car with a bright smile, acting like what we’re doing isn’t completely illegal.

“Hey, you.”

My stomach flips at his sultry tone; I almost forget what we’re here for when he grabs my hips and kisses me senseless. My head tips back, and I melt into him. I refuse to acknowledge the little whimper I make. Shoving him away, I feel slightly light-headed from the all-encompassing kiss.

“Jahmar, hurry the fuck up. Do you want to get caught?”

He smirks, not even marginally offended by the fact I’m being a whiny bitch. I scowl in his direction, and he just leans against the car like we’re two old pals having a casual chit-chat.

“Relax, little lion. It’s a ghost town at this time of night.”

He pushes off the car, swaggering to the boot. I finally take in his mouth-watering attire. Black trousers, combat boots, a snug long-sleeved top and a cap also in black. Fuck, he looks hot. It’s giving secret service; I’m-about-to clean-up-dead-body vibes. A shiver runs through me.

I keep the door ajar as he heaves the trunk out of the boot, grunting like he’s being pounded.

“Shit, do you need a hand?”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” he huffs, flexing his muscles and sending me a wink.

The staff lift pings, making my stomach drop.

“Anders, weh yuh a duh?” Femi asks as she steps out.

I slam the exit shut, swinging around to face her with an overenthusiastic ‘nothing to see here’ smile.

Heat rushes my pale face as I scrabble for an excuse. “Nothing, I erm, I’m just doing my walk around. I thought I heard something out there. Probably foxes, horrible little bastards.” I release a forced chuckle.

Femi’s eyebrows crease and lips purse. “Yuh a one odd bwoy, yuh know dat, Anders?”

Her tone is laced with a heavy dose of scepticism.

I release an awkward laugh. Imagine the hyenas from The Lion King, after they’ve downed two cans of Red Bull. That’s how outlandish my laugh sounds.

A light knock comes from the exit, making my stomach twist into tortuous knots.

Please, not now, Jahmar.

“Weh dat was?” Femi quizzes, stepping towards the exit with pinched eyes.

I swing my arm around her shoulder, leading her back to reception.

“I’m almost done. Now, how about you get the kettle on? Do you have biscuits? I hope so. I’m losing weight, look.” I pull the waistband of my trousers, which fit me exactly how they always have, but it’s enough to distract her.

“Yuh rite, mi haffi’ fatten yuh up. Mi a go bring in some Jamaican rum cake pan Friday, weh yuh tink?”

“Amazing!” I practically cheer, pushing her through the double doors. My forehead slams against the doors when they close, and my shoulders sag in relief.

“Anders,” Jahmar whisper-shouts through the closed exit.

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