When I realised who I was sketching, my hand stilled, and I sucked in a breath. I dropped the sketchpad onto the desk.
Damn.
I stood and stretched. It’d been another long day at work, with a break in the middle to go and help Josie. A break to go and hear Griff tell me he was far from interested in me. A shitty day all round, really. Who had I been kidding even thinking a man as good-looking as Griff would be interested in me? Better to hear straight from his lips now how uninterested he was than to kid myself and keep flirting with him, hoping he might feel the same way.
I padded into the kitchen in search of wine. Opening the fridge, I came to the sad realisation I was out. Bugger. I pulled the diet coke out instead, and then reached up into the cupboard where I stored my bourbon. A few moments later, I lifted a glass of bourbon and coke to my lips and enjoyed the taste of it going down.
Walking to the kitchen table, I placed the glass down and walked back to my art room to grab my sketchpad. Turned out I did want to finish that sketch.
Two hours later, after a few more glasses of bourbon, I’d finished my sketch, painted my toenails bright red, baked some shortbread, surfed Facebook for a while and now sat on my couch with a mask on my face.
Christmas Eve.
Not only had today been long, shitty and disappointing, it was also Christmas Eve – a day I always struggled with. A person could have all the friends under the sun, but when they didn’t have a family to call their own, there were some days that just sucked. Birthdays and Christmas tended to be the worst. I’d called Magan earlier, hoping she might have wanted to come over, but her phone had gone straight to message bank, and she hadn’t called me back.
I sat on the couch and finished another glass of bourbon before deciding it was time to take my mask off. As I stood to head into the bathroom, a knock on the front door surprised me. A spark of hope flared in my heart – perhaps Magan had decided to come over. After all, it was just after ten; who else would knock on my door at that time of night?
When I peered through the front window to make sure I did in fact know the person, my heart skipped a beat when I saw Griff standing on the other side of the door. And then I remembered his words from today and I pushed that feeling deep down. She knows I’m not interested so she’s trying her hand at getting me to change my mind. Yeah, he’d made himself clear. However, I figured he visited his aunt often enough that we’d see each other around, and just because he wasn’t interested in me didn’t mean we couldn’t be friendly to each other.
I opened the door and greeted him with a smile. “This is late. Everything okay?”
He stared at me for a moment, as if I’d surprised him, before saying, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Can I come in for a moment?”
Stepping aside, I waved him in. “Sure.”
I closed the door and followed him into my kitchen. The bourbon buzzed through my body, causing my tongue to loosen. “If you’ve come to tell me again how uninterested in me you are, you don’t need to; I understood it the first time.”
His brows pulled together as he frowned at me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me like I was a freak with three heads. And suddenly, I remembered I had a facemask on.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Can you give me a moment? I’ll just take my mask off and then I’ll be back.” Without waiting for his reply, I scurried into the bathroom and quickly removed the mask.
When I returned to the kitchen, he stood at the table with my sketchpad in his hands. Mortification flooded me as I realised what he was looking at. The sketch of him I’d done earlier.
Can this day get any worse?
Choosing to ignore the sketch, I walked past him into my kitchen and grabbed the bourbon and diet coke, and poured myself another drink. Double strength, because at this point, I needed it. Stat.
I was so engrossed in my drink and shoving my embarrassment aside that I didn’t hear him move next to me. The first I knew he was there was when he placed his hand over mine that was holding the bottle. His touch sent jolts of electricity through me, and my legs wobbled a little as I tried to keep my balance.
Oh, God.
This man.
“How do you figure I’m not interested in you?” he asked, his voice all deep and gravelly, just the way I loved it.
I stilled. My breathing slowed as anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him. “You said as much today at Josie’s.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Had he suffered some kind of memory loss this afternoon?
“Yeah, you did, Griff.”
His gaze remained steady on mine. “When?”
“You said Josie knew you weren’t interested in me and that she was trying to get you to change your mind.”
He took a deep breath and his chest rose and fell with a hard thud. His hand slid off mine to take hold of the bottle, and he reached for an empty glass out of my dish rack. A few moments later, he’d poured himself a bourbon, neat. As he took a long gulp, his gaze found mine again, and I caught heat there.
“I am as far from uninterested in you as a man can get, Sophia.”
“Oh.” He’d caught me off guard with such an honest, straight-to-the-point statement, and words failed me. Excitement snaked through me, though, and I let that sink in. This gorgeous man standing in front of me, in my house, was interested in me.
“But, I don’t date,” he said, and in four words, obliterated everything he’d just given me. A man who didn’t date meant one thing – he only wanted sex.
Damn.
I stood and stretched. It’d been another long day at work, with a break in the middle to go and help Josie. A break to go and hear Griff tell me he was far from interested in me. A shitty day all round, really. Who had I been kidding even thinking a man as good-looking as Griff would be interested in me? Better to hear straight from his lips now how uninterested he was than to kid myself and keep flirting with him, hoping he might feel the same way.
I padded into the kitchen in search of wine. Opening the fridge, I came to the sad realisation I was out. Bugger. I pulled the diet coke out instead, and then reached up into the cupboard where I stored my bourbon. A few moments later, I lifted a glass of bourbon and coke to my lips and enjoyed the taste of it going down.
Walking to the kitchen table, I placed the glass down and walked back to my art room to grab my sketchpad. Turned out I did want to finish that sketch.
Two hours later, after a few more glasses of bourbon, I’d finished my sketch, painted my toenails bright red, baked some shortbread, surfed Facebook for a while and now sat on my couch with a mask on my face.
Christmas Eve.
Not only had today been long, shitty and disappointing, it was also Christmas Eve – a day I always struggled with. A person could have all the friends under the sun, but when they didn’t have a family to call their own, there were some days that just sucked. Birthdays and Christmas tended to be the worst. I’d called Magan earlier, hoping she might have wanted to come over, but her phone had gone straight to message bank, and she hadn’t called me back.
I sat on the couch and finished another glass of bourbon before deciding it was time to take my mask off. As I stood to head into the bathroom, a knock on the front door surprised me. A spark of hope flared in my heart – perhaps Magan had decided to come over. After all, it was just after ten; who else would knock on my door at that time of night?
When I peered through the front window to make sure I did in fact know the person, my heart skipped a beat when I saw Griff standing on the other side of the door. And then I remembered his words from today and I pushed that feeling deep down. She knows I’m not interested so she’s trying her hand at getting me to change my mind. Yeah, he’d made himself clear. However, I figured he visited his aunt often enough that we’d see each other around, and just because he wasn’t interested in me didn’t mean we couldn’t be friendly to each other.
I opened the door and greeted him with a smile. “This is late. Everything okay?”
He stared at me for a moment, as if I’d surprised him, before saying, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Can I come in for a moment?”
Stepping aside, I waved him in. “Sure.”
I closed the door and followed him into my kitchen. The bourbon buzzed through my body, causing my tongue to loosen. “If you’ve come to tell me again how uninterested in me you are, you don’t need to; I understood it the first time.”
His brows pulled together as he frowned at me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me like I was a freak with three heads. And suddenly, I remembered I had a facemask on.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Can you give me a moment? I’ll just take my mask off and then I’ll be back.” Without waiting for his reply, I scurried into the bathroom and quickly removed the mask.
When I returned to the kitchen, he stood at the table with my sketchpad in his hands. Mortification flooded me as I realised what he was looking at. The sketch of him I’d done earlier.
Can this day get any worse?
Choosing to ignore the sketch, I walked past him into my kitchen and grabbed the bourbon and diet coke, and poured myself another drink. Double strength, because at this point, I needed it. Stat.
I was so engrossed in my drink and shoving my embarrassment aside that I didn’t hear him move next to me. The first I knew he was there was when he placed his hand over mine that was holding the bottle. His touch sent jolts of electricity through me, and my legs wobbled a little as I tried to keep my balance.
Oh, God.
This man.
“How do you figure I’m not interested in you?” he asked, his voice all deep and gravelly, just the way I loved it.
I stilled. My breathing slowed as anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him. “You said as much today at Josie’s.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Had he suffered some kind of memory loss this afternoon?
“Yeah, you did, Griff.”
His gaze remained steady on mine. “When?”
“You said Josie knew you weren’t interested in me and that she was trying to get you to change your mind.”
He took a deep breath and his chest rose and fell with a hard thud. His hand slid off mine to take hold of the bottle, and he reached for an empty glass out of my dish rack. A few moments later, he’d poured himself a bourbon, neat. As he took a long gulp, his gaze found mine again, and I caught heat there.
“I am as far from uninterested in you as a man can get, Sophia.”
“Oh.” He’d caught me off guard with such an honest, straight-to-the-point statement, and words failed me. Excitement snaked through me, though, and I let that sink in. This gorgeous man standing in front of me, in my house, was interested in me.
“But, I don’t date,” he said, and in four words, obliterated everything he’d just given me. A man who didn’t date meant one thing – he only wanted sex.
