Page 4 of The Vow We Made
2
Breakfast
Icouldn’t sleep this morning, so I found myself beating my feet against the pavements of Kensington. The run is pointless. Any good I’ve done will go out the window in about twenty minutes when I tuck into eggs and bacon.
I jog on the spot, turning off my music and pulling out my earplugs. I'm about to head into the café when a sharp jolt and brief pain hit my upper body. Instinctively, I let out an almighty girly squeal on impact as I find myself falling backwards, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. In what feels like slow motion, my phone slips from my fingers when they fan out to break my fall. I land flat on my arse with an almighty bump to the hard pavement below. It takes me a second to realise what's just happened and I'm confused when, almost immediately, my upper arms are wrapped in large hands, helping me up with such ease.
My focus clears but I’m still bewildered. “Are you alright?” a smooth masculine voice asks.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine I think.”
I awkwardly bend down to retrieve my earplugs and evaluate the damage. He offers, “Let me get that.” I hang back, dazed and embarrassed.
I register his dark hair and broad back while he collects what’s left of my phone. When he stands, towering above me, I realise his chest must have been the hard wall of muscle which knocked me off my feet.
His open palm reveals a thousand tiny grains of shattered glass, stealing my attention from his athletic upper body.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath while picking at the remains in his large hands. It all happened so fast, I can't think straight and initially, I'm more concerned about the spider web of cracks across what's left of my screen. When I look up, I’m faced with his warm brown eyes. My mouth drops uncontrollably and the concern for my screen soon passes while I take him in properly. He must be in his early thirties I guess, I'm not great with ages, but considering his smart blue jeans and blue shirt, he’s definitely hot to trot. He's taken time on his appearance and looks pretty dapper for a Sunday morning. His short dark hair, classically chiselled jaw, perfectly bowed lips and the slight stubble surrounding them, catch me out and steal my breath away, plus he smells good, all clean and fresh. My brain is mashed and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I take in how totally knockout gorgeous he is.
He can see I’m struggling to string any kind of sentence together, so he takes everything I’m holding, places it down on the pavement then unexpectedly looks straight into my eyes as he takes my wrists in his hands and holds them out to the side. I find myself mesmerised while he gives me the once-over.Do I know him? I’m unsure. Somewhere deep inside I feel we’ve met before but it could be a case of déjà vu.The thought leaves my head as soon as he speaks.
“I’m just checking for cuts or—” He stops in his tracks, giving me a sideway glance with a slight smirk when he notices my vacant expression. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
He’s hot, there’s no point in beating around the bush on that and this man is currently turning me into a sweaty mess.
I shake myself and smile. “No harm done.”
He continues to check me over. “You’re sure now?” His deep voice is smooth like melted chocolate. He isn’t helping.
The power of speech fails me again and I’m positive my complexion is a deeper shade of pink as the heat rises through my cheeks. Our eye contact holds, perhaps longer than it should until I break our bond and give my full attention to his hands still gripping my wrists. He lets go and the warmth of his skin leaves me as I reluctantly move away and pick up my belongings from below.
I stand slowly, keeping my head down to avoid his keen, appraising gaze. I can only guess he’s smirking at my awkwardness, so I dare to glance up despite the heat to my face. I roll my lips while I think what to say, but I can’t seem to string a full sentence together. “I’m just going—,” I gesture behind, towards the café.
He quickly catches my arm before I can move a muscle. “At least let me get the phone fixed.”
My eyes instinctively glance to the screen again. “No, I can’t let you do that. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt before he has time to say a word. “I’m late.” I spit out far too abruptly and I could kick myself. I hope he doesn’t think I’m being rude. It’s probably due to the way he’s making me feel. Nervous, but in a good way. I allow myself the pleasure of one last indulgent glance before I give him a brief smile and push my way through the door, which he catches and holds open. “Honestly, I’m fine,” I call while stepping inside, but still sensing his body heat behind me.What is he doing?
My heart thumps and I wish I could say it was due to my run earlier and not the giant Adonis who knocked me off my feet. It takes a few minutes to catch my breath and I use the time to find my friends, never daring to look back. It's packed to the rafters in Billy's place today, although nothing new for a Sunday morning. They make the best hangover cure in London.
I hear my name and spot Bronte and Faith waving frantically. I’m about to go over to them when my arm is caught once again.
“You might need this.”
My stomach takes a nose dive at the very moment my heart revs up for a second time and all because he’s taken my hand in his. I focus on my palm and can’t understand why it now holds a twenty-pound note. “What’s this for?” Instinctively I glance towards his heavenly browns, catching a glint in them.
“You dropped it outside.”
“I did?” I stare blankly towards the money before the penny drops. I’d stuffed the note in my top, as I always do for breakfast. Without thinking, my hand dips in my bra. I rummage around, only to find it empty and that’s when I notice a lift at each corner of his mouth. Shouts of, “Oi, oi!” are heard from two rowdy boys on another table. What the hell must I look like with my hands down my top, but there isn’t a lot I can do about it now. I pull them out, shamed by my instinctive search and even more so when it appears he seems to know them.
“Shit.” He rolls his eyes at the unruly twosome. “Fuck off,” he mouths in their direction while widening his stance. He takes a breath causing the buttons on his blue shirt to pull slightly. “Sorry about them.”
“Not a problem,” I smile up at him self-consciously, “and thank you for this.” I take the note from his grasp, holding it in the air like a prize, only to have my attention caught again. This time it’s the outline of his mouth causing my hot flush. His sinfully seductive lips are lush, full and ready for me to take a bite.
The background noise of innuendos jolts me back into the room. I turn my head on hearing familiar voices and notice Bronte standing on her chair, two fingers in her mouth, joining the party of wolf whistles and Faith with her thumb up, mouthing, “Nice,” and “Go for it.”
I will the ground to swallow me up, taking a second to pinch the bridge of my nose. As I said, it was a second, just to compose myself, but when I turn back to maybe apologise and thank him again; he’s already taken his seat with the rowdy boys who are now grinning from ear to ear and one of them dares to wink.
I half smile when quickly making my way to the girls. “Now I feel like a twat,” I growl, pulling out a chair.
