Page 7 of Past

As I walk into the party, I see Allie laughing as my family stands around her, and I know I have a chance. I may have royally fucked things up in the past, but I know she is worth it.

Chapter 3

Allie

Hangovers suck.

That’s the only thought I can come up with as I wake up. I thought drinking my weight in vodka to forget what happened last night at the party was a good idea. It really, really wasn’t. I’m never drinking again. Okay, maybe I will, but for now, I’m not drinking again.

My phone is buzzing somewhere in my bed, and I feel around for it.

Maisybear: Meet you in town at Starbucks at 12 (in two hours) and invite your roommate.Izzy says she is cool. Xx

Me: Sounds good, I will need coffee for my headache and I will ask her xx

Maisybear: Hangover you mean ;) see ya Alliecat x

I laugh, as I get up, until I look in the mirror by my bed at my mad hair. I look like I’ve been dragged through a bush backward. Or thoroughly fucked, not that I know what that feels like. I quickly change my thoughts and grab some clothes. I shower in record time, before drying my hair and putting it up in a high ponytail. I hurry to put some makeup on. I look at myself in the mirror quickly and decide I look okay in jeans and a simple, long-sleeved black top.

I grab my phone and keys, shoving them into a purple handbag before going to get something for breakfast. I come to a complete stop when I walk into the kitchen. A shirtless Elliot is cooking bacon. My mouth drops open as I look at the massive, angel wings tattoo on his back, which is beautiful. It’s like a hot dream; a gorgeous guy with massive, muscular arms and chest cooking with no top. Elliot doesn't notice me as I walk up to him and stare more at his tattoo; it’s extremely detailed, as you can see every feather in the wings. I notice there are raised scar lines in the wings, which they seem to be covering. Without thinking, I reach out to touch one of the larger scars in the right wing. Elliot tenses under my touch, and I quickly move away.

"I like your tattoo," I say, clearing my throat and thinkingwhat the fuck did I just do? I’m feeling really awkward when he turns to grin at me. I notice straight away his cut lip and bruised cheek. Elliot always looks like he just beat someone up.

"Couldn't help yourself, by all means, touch away,"he says and widens his arms.

"Is that bacon?" I ask, changing the subject and looking away from the nice view I have now of his chest. Fuck me, that's a nice six-pack with that V-shape dipping into his jeans. All girls love that V-shape, even if it’s not talked about. I could imagine running my hands all over him, wondering if he feels as firm as he looks. He runs his hand through his messy, black hair, winking at me before cooking again.

"Yeah, grab a plate, angel. There is more food on the table," he says. I know he is smirking as he turns back to his bacon. I shake my head at how flirty he is being. The reason I got drunk in the first place last night was because of his flirting. It’s like someone has hit Elliot on the head and his whole personality has changed. I don’t mind him not winding me up, but honestly, I think I miss it. I walk into the living room, forcing myself to think of all the reasons I don't like Elliot King.I’m not finding many reasons, and it’s pissing me off. Also, why the fuck is he calling me ‘angel’? He really doesn’t know me well if he thinks I’m any kind of angel.

"Hey, Al," Emilia says when I sit down. Blake is typing away on his phone and waves before eating his food.

"Hey, Em, do you want to come shopping with me and the girls today?"I ask her, and she grins at me. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling Emilia was a little lonely before she moved in with us. Maybe sheltered.

"Sure." She smiles before eating some more.

I grab some eggs and toast before sitting down. Elliot walks in a little later, thankfully wearing a top now, and hands me the plate with bacon on it. I take a few pieces before handing it back and look over to see Blake looking between me and Elliot. He smiles before laughing to himself.

"Shut up, Blake," I mutter and kick him under the table. He doesn’t even flinch, and it makes him laugh louder before he tries to hide it with a cough.

My phone starts ringing, and I quickly pull it out. It’s Harley King. I have, literally, no idea why he is calling me.

“Hey, Harley, what’s up?” I ask as I answer, and I see Elliot turn to me, giving me his full attention as he eats.

“Allie, morning. You remember I agreed to let another dance instructor set up a new class for eight to sixteen-year-olds on Sundays at four?” he asks.

“Yes, I remember. I think I'll try to come and watch a few,” I say.

“Well, the instructor has fallen and broken her arm. I now have thirty-two children expecting a class tomorrow. It’s all paid for, and I know it’s not your thing, but could you take it over? Just until I find another instructor who lives near here. I will pay you,” he asks me.

“I can’t teach that many children. I don’t know what to do,” I reply.

“Izzy and Maisy said they will come and help you. Please, I need you, Allie. The kids are so excited about this class. Ten of them are from a local foster home, and even if I refunded them, they won’t find anywhere else to go this year. The next gym is miles away, and no one else does dance classes in town.”

“This is a guilt trip. I can see where Izzy gets it from. Fine, I'll try,” I tell him.

“Thank you, Allie. You’re the best. Say hello to my sister when you see her,” he says.

“Will do. Later, Harley.”

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