Always Remember (Memories) (6 page)

“
You have no words? Wow. You’re speechless. I feel kinda special right now.”

“
Oh, honey, you are special.” She puts milk in the trolley and puts her hand on my arm. “You’re window licking special.”

One side of my mouth curves up in a half grin and my eyes wash over her face. Her eyes are wide with faux innocence, her lips puckered in the smile she
’s trying and failing to keep off her face. She raises an eyebrow and reaches behind me for some whipped cream. She looks down and reads the ingredients on the back, her hand sliding down the can.

I
’m jealous of whipped cream. I want to punch the can and kick its ass kind of jealous. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I can’t help but drop the sarcastic comments for something more... Distracting, when Bing looks at me the way he just did.

His eyes get this little spark in and the fire slowly spreads outwards, consuming everything and anything between us until everything disappears. The fire suffocat
es me, wrapping me in a crazy, constricting blanket that cuts off all oxygen leaving him the only source.

It makes me want him
even more than I already did.

And it makes me wonder what I
’m doing wrong if he can look at me that way and not drag me off to make me feel that heat first hand. I must be the only girl in London he’s resisted, because that’s what he’s doing.

I hand him the whipped cream
, and he slides it into the trolley slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. It takes my breath away, and I drop my gaze to my shopping list.

This time, I break under the weight of the feelings snowballing through my body, in fucking
Tesco
of all places.

This time, he wins.

~

“
I cannot believe I’m letting you throw balls of ice at me.”

“
It’s not really ice...” Bing says uncertainly.

“
It’s cold. It’s frozen water. Its damn ice, and ice is for going in drinks not down my top.” I protest, pulling my zipper up a little higher.

“
Who said anything about putting snow down your top?” Bing’s eyebrows go up slightly as if the idea only just occurred to him.

I give him a
‘yeah, right’ look and kick at the snow. “Do we have to? Really?” I look up and children are running around the park, screaming and laughing as parents chuck snowballs at them, build snowmen, and lie back to make snow angels.

Why would you even do that? Lying in snow? Ugh.

“Yes, we do,” Bing says quietly in my ear from behind me and dumps a handful of snow on top of my head. I scream and jump away from him, frantically batting at my head as he laughs.

“
Oh my god,” I breathe, my head freezing. “You are the biggest dick in the history of London.”

“
No, Jen, I have the biggest dick.” He grins, and I glare at him.

“
Have I ever told you I hate you?”

“
Oh, so many times.” Bing pulls his hat off, ruffles his dark brown hair, and pulls his hat back down. “When I chased you with a prawn, and pretty every much every time you see me.”

I huff and look at my gloves, covered in snow.
“I’m so not cut out for this snow business.”

“
It’s not hard.” Bing comes over. “Look.”

He stands behind me and takes my hands, bending me down to gather some snow. He shapes it into a ball and gives it to me.

“Easy,” he grins.

I can feel his warm breath on my skin, feel his body pressed against mine. I
’m on freaking fire. I almost wanna glance at my feet to see if the snow around them has melted into a puddle of water.

“
Jen?” Bing says quietly.

Oh, great. Now I
’m spacing out. Can I have that vodka yet?

“
Mm?”

His nose brushes my face
, and I turn it into him without thinking.

“
What are you doing? Is that snowball not freezing your hand yet?” His lips are millimetres from my cheek. I can feel the air move as he speaks, feel the flutter of my hair as he breathes across my skin. I want to scream, stamp, spin into him. I want to feel him, really feel him.

“
Um, no.” I need to get away from him. “But it’s about to freeze your face.”

I slam the snowball into his face
, and he jumps. I run away through the snow, my boots heavy and making big, size six impressions in the white stuff.

“
That’s it!” Bing yells. I look over my shoulder. He’s chasing me. I squeal but he catches me and we both go tumbling to the ground, rolling until I’m on my back and he’s leaning over me.

His lips are inches from mine
. My eyes are fixed on his lust-filled brown ones. I’m entranced. Intoxicated. Frozen in a moment that could be everlasting.

“
Get off me you great big baboon,” I whisper. “You’re squashing me.”

Translation:
get off me before I finally kiss the living shitballs out of you.

“
No, I’m not.” His lips curl upwards. “I’m hardly on you.”

“
Bing.” My voice is soft, breathy.

“
Jen... I...”

I close my eyes
, and he rolls off me, falling next to me with a light thump.

“
I’m sorry,” he sighs.

Don
’t be, I want to say. Don’t be sorry and get your sexy ass back on top of me so I can kiss the crap out of you.

I roll over and look down at him. His brown eyes framed by thick, girly lashes. The chiselled bone structure that would make a sculptor weep. The lips that I want to feel against mine.

“Jen?” he says uncertainly.

I drop my head and touch my lips to his, softly enough that it
’s a passing brush. He cranes his neck up, and the extra pressure forces me to respond. My lips probe his, and one of his hands comes up onto my back, the other to the back of my head. My body pushes into the side of his. My arms shift so my gloved fingers graze the top of his head, and I move his hat so I can run them through his thick hair.

My body sinks into his as our mouths meld together, and when he runs his tongue along my top lip, I feel it everywhere. My stomach clenches until I
’m sure the muscles there are as hard as the ones I can feel on his stomach.

His hand grips my hair tightly, and I gasp a little. His tongue brushes mine, and I push myself harder into him. All I can focus on is wanting more, needing more, feeling more.

“Jen,” Bing whispers against my lips. “I should get you home.”

I sigh, dropping my head. My forehead rests on his shoulder, and the cold temperature is suddenly apparent to me. I take a deep breath in, ignoring the sting of his blatant rejection.

“Okay.”

I jab my pen at the essay in front of me. I’m taking an art degree, for the love of whoever the fuck is in the sky right now, why do I need to write essays?

I just
wanna paint.

I slam the pen down on the half-finished paper and get up, making my way to my room. I pull open my box at the end of the bed and grab a canvas, paints, and my favourite brushes.
I dump them on the sofa and set my easel up by the window looking out over the park.

With my palate resting on my knee and my brush in hand, I touch the bristles to the plain white canvas.

Painting is real. It’s where emotion lies, where crazy thoughts merge with the sane reality of life around us. It’s the only place I can truly be me. Even with Carl, a part of me was always kept inside, tucked away slightly.

Until Bing. Until he walked into my life, painting was my only outlet.

I saw his soft brown eyes. I saw his cocky smile and his challenging stance. He brings out the fire in me, the playful flirt, the serious dreamer. I don’t have to hold back.

Stroke. Swirl. Blend.

He’s a pain in the ass, though. I want to kiss him as much as I want to kill him, and I know he wants in my pants. But that kiss...

That kiss that almost happened, then was fought against for over a year, then finally happened. That one that shouldn
’t have happened? Yep. That painful little bugger.

Water. Paint. Dab. Dab. Swish.

My eyes focus on what I’m painting, and I rest my brush against my palate. I’ve painted the scene outside in the park, or started to, but there’s a difference.

There
’s a figure leaning against the tree, brown hair flicking in his face, and brown eyes looking right at me.

Sleeping, eating, thinking, painting.

That stupid lobster-headed gimp face has taken over all of my damn bodily functions.

I hand Dad the file he wanted and turn back outside. Covering for Alec is dull, and I have no idea how he puts up with this.

“
Everything alright, Sam?” Dad asks.

“
Fine,” I reply.

“
Doesn’t seem it.”

“
What would you do if Mum had been with someone when you knew you wanted her?”

“
What do you mean?”

I turn and lean against the door.
“There’s the girl, but she’s with some guy, and has been for a while. Thing is, you have this insane need to be near her all the time, despite your reputation for something you couldn’t give two craps about anymore. What would you do? Would you sit by and wait, or would you convince her she’s with the wrong guy?”

“
This isn’t a hypothetical question, is it, son?”

“
I’m not sure.”

Dad scratches his chin.
“I’d let her know you’re interested. That way, she has to make the move.”

“
What if you already have?” I stopped Jen from kissing me.
I
stopped
her
. “Shit.”

Dad looks at me questioningly.

“I may have kissed her, or rather, she kissed me, and I stopped it. Oh, man. She probably thinks I don’t give a shit!”

He looks back down and flicks through the file. Of course. I
’m finally coming to him for female advice, and he’s set on work. Typical.

“
Take the evening off, you’ve done well today, Sam. Arthur and I can sort the last properties. Go and sort what you need to.”

“
For real?”

“
For real,” Dad smiles. “Just for God sake, don’t bring your sorry butt back in here until you’ve got Jen on your arm.”

I double-take.
“How did you… Y’know what? Never mind.”

Dad laughs loudly. I wink, salute him, and tear out of that office like my ass is on fire.

He thinks I
’m still with Carl.

No-one has told him otherwise, and I don
’t think he cares enough except to get into my little lacy panties. The ones with the bows.

I don
’t know what to think of it. Does it mean he respects me enough to not sleep with me when I’m in a relationship? Or is it respect for Carl?

Either way, I spent all night thinking it over, and came to the conclusion that Bing just wants in my pants. It
’s okay, because I want in his too. Regardless of his old reputation.

Apparently old reputation. Do I believe it? Eh. About as much as I
’d believe a pregnant woman telling me she’s a virgin. Bing doesn’t do celibate and apart from a four month relationship last year, he doesn’t do them either.

Not that he necessarily does fidelity. He
’s about as faithful as a rabbit in mating season bonking their way round the rabbit hole.

So.
.. Sex is good. The best way to get over someone is to get under them, right? Maybe I just need to man up... Yikes. I don’t want a penis
. Ahem
. Maybe I just need to woman up, and woman handle him into my bedroom.

Yes. We can go for that. We
’ll get together, leave emotion at the door, and have a good old spring bounce on the bed. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

~

People are exes for a reason, and when I look into the pleading puppy dog eyes of my ex, Heidi, I wonder why the fuck she was ever in the position to become an ex in the first place.