Page 41 of London's Calling: Part 1
Mickey
When Roni returns a couple of minutes later carrying our takeaway, I’ve laid plates out on the counter along with cutlery. I pull out Roni’s Pad Thai and hand it to her, our fingers brushing as she takes it from me.
“Cheers,” she says, eyes meeting mine briefly before dropping them to the container in her hand.
I try to cover up the fact I’m watching her as she dishes up her food and moves around what equates to my apartment. I’m also trying to deny something shifted between us moments ago. I know she felt it, it’s why she shut me up. But the moment has passed, and I guess we’re just going to ignore it for now.
I join her in the lounge where she’s reclaimed her earlier seat and is tucking into her dinner as she scrolls through TV channels in search of something to watch.
“Wanna watch a movie?” she asks, around a mouthful of noodles.
“Sure, but I’m not watching some mushy, romantic chick flick, so pick something decent,” I say as I settle on the sofa beside her.
“How do you feel about zombies?” she asks as I take a mouthful of food.
“I often feel like one, so…”
“Good. Let’s watch this.”
She tosses the remote onto the sofa beside her, and I look at the TV to find Shaun and Ed flinging records like frisbees at the zombie in their garden.
We eat in silence for several long minutes, but when I sense her watching me, I turn to her. “What?” Her eyes drop to my mouth. “Are you trying to give me a complex? Quit staring at me and eat your noodles.”
She smiles. “I mean, they’re good noodles. How did I not know about this Thai place?”
“Maybe ’cause you don’t live in Mayfair usually,” I tell her, giving her a wink.
“Oh, you’re hilarious. It’s not my fault you’re shit at strip poker.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Nah-uh, I don’t usually play against cheats.”
“Someone is still sore over losing,” she jests, twirling her fork in her noodles and bringing it to her mouth.
I watch her, my eyes fixated on her tongue as it swipes out and wraps around a loose noodle, then her lips close over the forkful, and I can’t help picture her doing that to my cock. I’m so fucking lost in the vision I don’t realise she’s stopped chewing and is watching me until something sharp digs into my thigh.
“Ow, shit!” I curse, snapping out of it. “What the fuck, Roni?” I look down to see her fork pointed at my leg. “Did you just stab me with a fork?”
She rolls her eyes with a small, huffed laugh. “Yeah, I fucking did. Stop picturing me sucking your cock, eat your food and watch the movie instead.”
I shake my head because what the hell am I meant to say? It’s not like she’s wrong. I was absolutely picturing her doing just that, and my dick is all the way in on that kind of action. It seems my dick feels the same way as I do about her—it can’t get enough.
I finish my food before Roni and wait for her to do the same before grabbing her plate and taking them to the kitchen. When I return, she’s pulled a throw from the back of the sofa and is curled up in the corner watching TV. I pause and let my eyes rove over her. She’s completely oblivious to my presence. I take my time observing her completely unguarded. The way her brow arches, just one of them, when something happens on the TV, the easy, wide smile that evolves into a laugh and the way her nose creases with her amusement.
The moment is shattered as I’m hit with the incredibly real feeling of contentment, warmth, something never experienced in the presence of a woman before. Reality comes crashing back in. I need to get the fuck out of here. What am I doing? I don’t do this shit. I don’t spend the day with a woman, eating and watching TV like we are a couple in love.
Fuck no!
“Hey—” Roni calls, breaking off when she turns to find me just standing there. “Mickey, you okay?”
I can’t hide whatever my face is displaying before she sees it, so I turn away from her, stepping back into the kitchen. Not before I see her rising from the sofa and padding along behind me.
“Hey, what happened?” she asks as I have no choice but to turn and face her having backed myself into a corner.
“Nothing. But I need to go. I have some things I need to go over for work,” I say, stepping around her and heading for the stairs.
She doesn’t follow, and I’m grateful. I collect my clothes, pulling them on as I go. But my relief is short lived as I turn to leave the bedroom and find Roni, leaning against the door frame, arms folded.
“So, do you want to tell me the real reason you’re running out of here?”
