close it securely. Thank Christ.
Now who the fuck was that and where the fuck am I?
I am thanking Christ for Google maps on my phone, I can at least make my way to the main highway and get a bus. I chuckle to myself as I’m a good hour away from my place.
I try and think back to the events of the night before, even though my head is pounding. I remember drinks started at Chad ’s, then we walked down to the local pub and it was jam packed because there was a pool competition. I remember us drinking then a group of glamour’s talking to us. The name Stacey is ringing a bell, must be the Barbie doll whose bed I was in…
More flashbacks…
Oh yes that’s right, she pushed me up against the wall in the girls toilets, not shy one bit. Her nails dug into my back and down my arm. I look to see the scratch mark souvenir. What a fucking cat. We were getting hot and heavy in the bathroom. Pete will be proud of me…
Still ten more kilometres to the highway. How the hell did we get to her place? Oh shit, dad must be wondering what the hell happened to me!
Walking along I come to the realisation that besides Roxy this flimsy blonde is the only chick I ’ve had sex with. I must admit I feel a little relieved I can add another notch to my belt, especially since Roxy had a few before me.
Now I ’m feeling kinda pissed that I can’t even remember the nasty details. Judging from the tanned, toned body I am sure it was decent.
So why didn’t you stick around for seconds Kade?
I already know the answer to my question. Roxy. The one and only.
If a gorgeous blonde beauty willing to have sex with me at the drop of a hat can’t take my mind off her, than what in the fucking hell can?
Chapter 8
Digging up Some Dirt
My stitches have healed nicely and the pain has faded but I’m sure the scar will be around for some time. Much like the scar in my heart.
Dylan has been super smothering. He is still waiting on me hand and foot, messaging me every twenty minutes, calling frequent. He comes straight over after work and stays the night every single night.
And then this…
It ’s my first day back at work and our receptionist, Rachael calls me to the front desk. “Delivery for Miss Thorne,” says a young guy dressed in very casual denim shorts and a plain black t-shirt. I see the wondrous bouquet of flowers he is holding. It’s full of camellias, roses, gerberas, baby breath. The bright pink, pastels purples, red, white, and sunshine yellow colours are quite lovely. The aroma is sweet much like perfume.
“ Yes that is me,” I answer him slightly unimpressed with Dylan and his wasting money on flowers. Even though they are stunning, they will only last a few days. Plus it is just another symptom of his overboard materialistic behaviour.
“ These flowers are for you,” he tells me handing me the gorgeous mixed bunch of brightly coloured flowers, nice gesture but too much.
“ Thank you,” I tell him with a polite smile, after all he is only doing his job. I remove the card to read it already knowing who it is from.
Take it easy on your first day back baby, thinking of you always. -Dylan
I can’t help but notice just how many varieties of flowers there are. Why does he get me the sixty dollar bunch when I’d be happy with the twenty dollar bunch? I know his job just pays an average wage and the jewellery, flowers and other gifts he buys are just not necessary. It would make sense if he was wealthy or rich, but not on his income.
I send him a simple text.
Thank you for the flowers. Did you forget our chat about over the top?
I giggle to myself , I sound like a condescending mother. This guy has me acting like someone double my age…
I hobble back to my desk; my leg is much better but still a little sore. I can’t help but admire my flowers and the aroma they are emitting while I work on my design for the new hairdressers franchise we have been appointed.
Ironically enough they are called Scissors,
Now who the fuck was that and where the fuck am I?
I am thanking Christ for Google maps on my phone, I can at least make my way to the main highway and get a bus. I chuckle to myself as I’m a good hour away from my place.
I try and think back to the events of the night before, even though my head is pounding. I remember drinks started at Chad ’s, then we walked down to the local pub and it was jam packed because there was a pool competition. I remember us drinking then a group of glamour’s talking to us. The name Stacey is ringing a bell, must be the Barbie doll whose bed I was in…
More flashbacks…
Oh yes that’s right, she pushed me up against the wall in the girls toilets, not shy one bit. Her nails dug into my back and down my arm. I look to see the scratch mark souvenir. What a fucking cat. We were getting hot and heavy in the bathroom. Pete will be proud of me…
Still ten more kilometres to the highway. How the hell did we get to her place? Oh shit, dad must be wondering what the hell happened to me!
Walking along I come to the realisation that besides Roxy this flimsy blonde is the only chick I ’ve had sex with. I must admit I feel a little relieved I can add another notch to my belt, especially since Roxy had a few before me.
Now I ’m feeling kinda pissed that I can’t even remember the nasty details. Judging from the tanned, toned body I am sure it was decent.
So why didn’t you stick around for seconds Kade?
I already know the answer to my question. Roxy. The one and only.
If a gorgeous blonde beauty willing to have sex with me at the drop of a hat can’t take my mind off her, than what in the fucking hell can?
Chapter 8
Digging up Some Dirt
My stitches have healed nicely and the pain has faded but I’m sure the scar will be around for some time. Much like the scar in my heart.
Dylan has been super smothering. He is still waiting on me hand and foot, messaging me every twenty minutes, calling frequent. He comes straight over after work and stays the night every single night.
And then this…
It ’s my first day back at work and our receptionist, Rachael calls me to the front desk. “Delivery for Miss Thorne,” says a young guy dressed in very casual denim shorts and a plain black t-shirt. I see the wondrous bouquet of flowers he is holding. It’s full of camellias, roses, gerberas, baby breath. The bright pink, pastels purples, red, white, and sunshine yellow colours are quite lovely. The aroma is sweet much like perfume.
“ Yes that is me,” I answer him slightly unimpressed with Dylan and his wasting money on flowers. Even though they are stunning, they will only last a few days. Plus it is just another symptom of his overboard materialistic behaviour.
“ These flowers are for you,” he tells me handing me the gorgeous mixed bunch of brightly coloured flowers, nice gesture but too much.
“ Thank you,” I tell him with a polite smile, after all he is only doing his job. I remove the card to read it already knowing who it is from.
Take it easy on your first day back baby, thinking of you always. -Dylan
I can’t help but notice just how many varieties of flowers there are. Why does he get me the sixty dollar bunch when I’d be happy with the twenty dollar bunch? I know his job just pays an average wage and the jewellery, flowers and other gifts he buys are just not necessary. It would make sense if he was wealthy or rich, but not on his income.
I send him a simple text.
Thank you for the flowers. Did you forget our chat about over the top?
I giggle to myself , I sound like a condescending mother. This guy has me acting like someone double my age…
I hobble back to my desk; my leg is much better but still a little sore. I can’t help but admire my flowers and the aroma they are emitting while I work on my design for the new hairdressers franchise we have been appointed.
Ironically enough they are called Scissors,
Similar Books
