He’s pointing at a slushie machine in the corner. There are two neon-colored drinks being churned simultaneously. Pink and blue.
“A slush puppy?” I exclaim aloud when I see the sign on top of the machine.
“That’s what they’re called here,” Reed replies. He follows me to it. I can’t stop chuckling with delight.
This is exactly what I need.
I fill two plastic cups, one pink and one blue, and take them to the counter. While I pay, I can feel his eyes on me again. The way he watches me sends shivers down my spine.
There’s a part of me that’s telling me to leave now. Run. Forget about the slushies and just go. The last thing I need at this moment is to feel attraction towards a man. Not after everything I’ve been through with Rodney. Not when I’m just starting to feel like I’m recovering.
I bring the cups over to him. He takes the blue one and then a big sip quickly.
“Brain freeze. Damn!” he groans, clutching his forehead like a child would. It makes me laugh. His tongue is already stained blue, and I see this flashing fantasy image of tasting it myself. My tongue in his mouth. Tasting and stroking that blue stain. My belly tightens. I walk out of the store in a hurry.
I can’t do this. I don’t know this man. He’s a complete stranger. Devastatingly handsome and a little bit funny too. But tonight was supposed to be about freedom!
“Thank you for reminding me of these. I don’t think I’ve had one in years. I’ve definitely not had one in years.” His voice is right there behind me. Strong and soothing. I have to turn to face him again.
Or…I could just walk away. Pretend that he doesn’t exist.
“Why? Are you too good for a slush puppy?” I demand, cocking one eyebrow.
Reed smiles. His lips are tinged with blue too. Oh my God, I want to kiss him.
“No, they’re too good for me,” he replies. “We can’t go back to the bar with these. Do you want to walk instead?”
I know I should reject the idea. Right here, right now. Make it clear it’s not going anywhere. But those icy blue eyes make it really hard to walk away. I gulp mouthfuls of pink slushie instead. Hoping that I’ll be able to make this feeling go away. All I need to do is calm down.
“Yeah, a walk sounds nice, I guess. I mean, I have nowhere else to be.” I’m over-explaining. I’m using too many words. I should just stop speaking now.
“Me neither,” Reed replies and then turns swiftly to start walking in the opposite direction. I follow him. These heels feel too high. My dress is too short.
Soho is busy, and it doesn’t really feel like it’s close to midnight already.
“Something tells me you haven’t been in London long,” he continues.
I suck in a deep breath and face him. Finally, I’m beginning to find the courage to tell him what I’m really thinking.
“Maybe it’s better if we don’t discuss anything personal tonight. I’m leaving tomorrow. Leaving London.”
Reed’s eyes become larger as he takes in this information. I see a hint of surprise, disappointment too, maybe? But then his face relaxes and he gives me a big nod.
“Yes, that sounds perfect. Nothing personal.”
“Good.”
“Great. What do you want to discuss instead?” he asks.
I would absolutely love to discuss what his body looks like under that sweater of his. The thought makes me blush again. What is happening to me?
Across the street, I see an arcade. It’s buzzing with people outside. I turn back to Reed, my eyes glowing with excitement. I know I don’t have to say anything; he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Mind reader.
Before either of us make a comment, he pushes the button beside him and the traffic lights turn green. In the next moment, he has grabbed my hand and we’re running together to the other side of the street.
This night is turning out to be more adventurous than I could have ever imagined.
1
Reed
I’m not exactly sure what made me want to talk to this girl at the bar. It has to have been more than just those unusual bronze curls. She has sparkling hazel eyes. Big. With strikingly dark eyelashes. In the zippy lights of the arcade, I can see she has some glittery makeup on, but its subtle and understated.
She has the most delicious curves. Hips wide enough to hold on to, generous breasts. I’m trying not to picture how soft the insides of her thighs would be.
Her dress is short and sexy. Black and simple. High heels. But she has a young casual air about her. She is confident, but not overly so. Her eyes shine with curiosity. I was sitting there, staring at her while she drank her martini at the bar counter.
Judging by the sour expressions she made, it was pretty obvious that she was hating her drink. I anticipated that she is someone who doesn’t drink a lot.
Now she’s standing in the corner of the arcade, playing pinball on a retro machine. Her cup of pink slushie is on the side, and she reaches for it from time to time.
I’ve noticed that her mouth is stained pink, like strawberries, and I want to kiss her. I want to pull her away from the pinball machine and kiss her right here. But she’s barely meeting my eyes. She’s totally absorbed in recording a new high score.
With every victory, she pumps her fists in the air. I’m no match for her pin-balling skills.
“Reed, come on! You have to step up your game!” she exclaims; her breasts heave with excitement.
“What do I get if I win?” I ask, having another go at the machine.
“Let me see…what do you want? What do you really want?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
I make one good move, and the balls go flying around and the machine lights up.
“Your email address,” I reply and look up to meet her eyes. Ella’s cheeks flush. I know she’s thinking about it.
I know I want to see her again, but she said she’s leaving London tomorrow. Chances are, I won’t see her after tonight. I only know her name; will that be enough to find her? I don’t know where she lives in the States. This chance encounter isn’t going to last long enough.
She hasn’t told me what she wants if she wins. I don’t ask. I’m just focusing on winning this game so I can get her email.
Ella and I battle it out ferociously on the pinball machine. Our yelps are so loud, her fist-pumps are so ecstatic, that a small crowd gathers around us to watch us play.
I haven’t felt this much pressure in a long time. I’m literally sweating under my collar.
“Yes!” she hisses after the last round, skipping around the floor in her high stilettos. A cry of cheer rings out in the crowd while she does her little victory dance. She’s laughing, and I’m laughing too. Her energy is infectious. Then it dawns on me that she’s won and I won’t get her email. No means of contact between us after tonight.
Some guys in my peripheral vision have stepped up to her. They’re interested. I can see it in their body language as they flirt with her, chucking compliments in her direction. She giggles and flicks her hair over her shoulder, but there’s something in her mannerisms that tells me she’s not interested. She’s reaching for an excuse to walk away from them.