Always Remember (Memories #2)(7)
Author: Emma Hart

Always safe. Your brother slept over to look after me. He’s going soft. Love you too. x

He slept over? Are you taming the beast?

I would love to tame the beast.

No. Just passing out on him in a taxi.

Nice.

I huff out a short, sharp breath, and make the decision to get up. I pad my way into the kitchen with a rumbling stomach, and there’s a DVD case on the side. I frown, picking it up.

It’s my favourite movie, Stardust, and beside it is a note telling me to look in the freezer. I pull the freezer door open, and look inside a drawer. Two pizzas and garlic bread.

It dawns on me like I’ve just been hit round the head with a skateboard, and I groan loudly, smacking my head on the freezer.

“Fuck!” I curse and rub my forehead. “I’m a twat. Such a twat.”

I crawl across the front room floor, knock my phone off the table, and dial his number.

“She’s alive then,” his husky voice answers.

“Alive and kicking. Not so much kicking. More head-butting and crawling. But yes. Alive,” I ramble out.

He chuckles. “Any particular reason you’re calling me?”

“Umm.” The open freezer door catches my eye. “Yeah. I just got out bed on a food mission, and noticed the DVD fairy stopped by along with the pizza fairy. I know I can eat like a horse but I’m pretty sure I can’t eat all the pizza and garlic bread by myself so…”

“And?”

And you’re so f**king difficult all the time.

“Are you actually going to make me ask you to come over and eat the food you bought?”

“Maybe.” The teasing lilt to his voice tickles me, and I’m momentarily distracted by what it’d feel like if he actually did tick-

“Fine. Samuel, would you like to come over to my place for pizza and garlic bread you bought, and to watch a DVD you rented?”

“I have to wash my hair,” he dead-pans.

“Are you f**king kidding me?” I flinch at the volume of my voice. Oh, my head.

“No. That messy ‘I just had sex’ style is hard to maintain.”

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, John Frieda, but it doesn’t look like you’ve just had sex. It looks like you’ve been pulled through a hedge, run over by a lawnmower, and shit on by a donkey.”

“Oh, she flatters me so. Will you be nice to me if I come over?”

“I don’t know. I might leave your sorry ass on the doorstep.”

“My hot sorry ass,” he corrects.

“Your hot sorry ass,” I say without thinking.

“You think my ass is hot?”

“What? No. Fuck off!”

He roars with laughter down the phone. “I’ll see you later, gorgeous.”

“Goodbye, Samuel.” I clench my teeth and put the phone back.

I take it back. I’m not a bitch if it’s deserved.

~

I open the door resembling something somewhat human opposed to total zombie apocalypse.

“Have you passed the head-butting stage yet?” Bing leans against the door frame looking sinfully sexy in a white polo top and dark wash jeans. Mamma Mia on horseback.

“The head-butting thing was an accident.” I smile sweetly. “But it can always be arranged.”

“So it’s safe for me to come in?” He smirks, his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Depends on your definition of safe,” I mumble and step aside. He glances at me out the corner of his eye as he walks past.

“Something to say, Jennifer?”

I want to wipe that shit eating grin off his face with my frying pan.

“Not to you.” I flutter my eyelashes, and shut the door.

BING

Jennifer Mason should not flutter her eyelashes unless she wants this movie night to end x-rated. There’s something about the way they frame her blue eyes, their length making me wonder what it would be like to have them flutter against my skin as we…

“Funny girl,” I retort and throw myself on the sofa to stop myself grabbing her. She has a boyfriend. That isn’t me.

“Please, make yourself at home.” The sarcastic lilt to her voice is so familiar.

“I will, thanks.”

She grabs two pizzas from the oven and brings them over, the DVD case between her teeth. She really doesn’t know how f**king sexy she is.

Jesus Christ. I’m a walking hard-on around this chick.

I settle a cushion on my lap and take the plate she offers. She puts the DVD on then sits next to me, her legs tucked under her.

“A cushion?” Her lips curl upwards in an ‘I’ve got you sussed’ smile.

“The plates hot,” I offer, staring at the television.

“Sure it is.” She smothers her laugh, and I sneak a glance at her. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy twist. She’s wearing a tight top, and holy f**k those yoga pants.

Can I get a break around here? Anyone?

I exhale deeply and try to pay attention to the movie. Nope. It’s too hard – and it isn’t the only thing. Fuck. I readjust my sitting position, and I strain against my jeans. I clench my teeth. This is not how I planned this night.

She’s f**king torturing me and she doesn’t even realise it. She’s driving me to the brink of insanity with my crazy need for her in every way – but mostly in my bed. Or her bed. Or against a tree. Really, I don’t give a shit where I make love to this girl.

Make love?

I think those two words are testament to how f**king crazy she drives me.

I can’t focus on this film for a second. It’s all fairies and magic and kisses and stars and bullshit. Bullshit.

I sigh sharply and pick at the topping of my last piece of pizza.

“Why are you sighing?” Jen turns her beautiful face towards me. “Are you turning into a pu**y and getting the romance in this movie?”

“Yeah, right.” I snort. “I’m not even watching.”

“I know, I was being sarcastic.” Her pink lips curl up on one side slightly. “I hate to break it to you, Samuel, but I’m no Hollywood movie.”

That’s because Hollywood has nothing on your beauty.

“It’s the yoga pants,” I admit. “They’re kind of tight, and distracting.”

“They’re supposed to be tight.” She laughs. “It’s the point of them.”

“Yeah, well.” I swallow.

“You’re an ass kinda guy, aren’t you?”

I’m a Jen kinda guy.

“If I can grab it, then it’s my kinda thing.” I shrug it off.