A coffee evening:
A dare.
An encounter.
More than just coffee.
Jack Hodgson / OC
This is a total work of fiction.
Simply out of the depths of my own imagination.
I own no one except my own thoughts.
Chapter 1
That PLUS sign.
And.
8-10 weeks.
Shite.
She knew exactly what was 8-10 weeks ago.
Or rather 9 weeks back.
Her much deserved promotion at work.
A drinks evening.
With too many drinks.
And dancing.
Lots of dancing.
And then a dare.
"Tall, dark, utterly handsome! Fits the bill Bex, go have a snog!"
Her wine-soaked mind had obviously gone to mush.
She had gone for it.
No, not the kiss.
Well.
Not just.
She remembered approaching him.
And then the embarrassing attempt to get on that dratted bar stool.
Those annoying bar stools that were made for people over 6 feet. Definitely not for her dainty 5 feet nil frame.
And the result - hands catching her from falling on her face.
Those hands.
With such long fingers.
Holding her steady.
And then soft hazel eyes that caught her brown ones.
And would not let go.
Eyes that crinkled with suppressed laughter.
She had hid her face with her hands and sighed an apology.
"Sorry, this was not my idea. But I can't not do the dare."
What a pathetic feeble excuse, she sighed to herself.
He continued to look at her with suppressed mirth.
A smile on his mouth.
That mouth.
Shite.
She gave herself a mental shake.
"That's a double negative," a deep baritone.
"What?" momentarily distracted by that voice.
Her thoughts were just.
Pathetic.
He continued to watch her from the corner of his eye.
Waiting for her to say more.
"Right." she tried to clear her throat stuck with words that needed to be said.
Or she would just make a fool of herself.
Again.
Took a sip of her wine.
Wet her mouth.
Not a good idea.
She was already halfway over.
Alright.
Here goes nothing.
She turned to face him. A deep breath.
"So I've got promoted at work today. And I have been dared to snog a tall dark handsome someone. And well, you are sat right there. So…Shite. Ridiculous this is. I would just be off and far away from you right now if this dratted stool wasn't born out of Mt. Everest!" she finished all in one breath, looking to the floor that seemed an impossible long way down.
Where the hell was she sat, she thought idly.
And then a hand on her elbow holding her steady yet again.
"Careful."
That voice again.
Her gaze went from his hand up to his face in an instant.
And met warm eyes filled with laughter.
And something else.
"Thank you", she signed resignedly.
"I clearly have too much Dutch courage in me right now.
Sorry. Really. I need some coffee.". She looked at him apologetically.
"There is a very good café next door", holding her gaze steady.
"What?" Was she hallucinating now? She really should have stopped at 4 glasses, or better yet, 2.
"For coffee? It's decent I'm told."
"Oh. Uh. Thank you. I'll do just that." She turned away, starting to get off.
"Or we could get one together. It is probably not fulfilling your dare though." eyes crinkled at the corners. Those bewitching eyes.
A beat.
"I'd like that, thank you".
She had to hide the side of her face from him yet again.
She had told him about the dare.
Obviously.
She was going to kick herself tomorrow.
He unfolded his tall frame from the stool and leaned in to help her.
Her hand was swallowed up in his large one as she hopped down.
His fingers closed on hers.
A warm tingling sensation.
And then a noise behind her that suspiciously sounded like "Woot Woot" from her hospital gang.
She had studiously ignored the lot, but not before he had caught the blush rising up her cheeks.
9 weeks on, clearly it wasn't just a coffee evening.
She looked at the stick again in disbelief.
Goodness.
She had a rather important conversation ahead of her.