A Broken Us (London Lover Series Book 1) (11 page)

It is nearly eleven o’clock before we are
dressed and ready for our guests to arrive. Frank, Leslie, and I clamor
downstairs and find Julie and Mitch in the kitchen, making punch at the counter
with three of their friends from out of town.

“Guys! You look fantastic!” Julie announces,
brightly.

She’s wearing a bright purple one-shoulder mini
dress with zebra print around the edges. She couples it with fishnet stockings
and knee-high boots. Mitch, looking perky as ever, is wearing a black fitted
t-shirt, jeans, and a white priest-collar around his neck.

After introductions and appreciative
conversation over everyone’s costumes are complete, Julie announces proudly,
“Who wants party punch?”

We all gather around the kitchen counter as she
dishes bright red punch into black plastic cups and tosses a lemon slice on
top.

Frank awkwardly scrambles up onto the
countertop and sits with his cup held out.

“A toast, my dear
popettes
.
A toast…ahem.” He waits for us to quiet down.

“Here’s to you, here’s to me. The best of
friends we’ll always be. If ever we should disagree, then fuck you, and here’s
to me!” He laughs heartily and takes a big swig of his punch; his humongous hat
nearly falls off as he tips his head back.

We all laugh and
tisk
in response, then take a drink anyway. The punch is sweet but I can taste the
dull burn of booze after I swallow.

“
Oooo
, wait! I heard
one a few weeks ago,” Leslie interrupts, “Oh crap, how did it go? Here’s to
living…no wait, I got it, I got it. Here’s to the girl with the little red
shoes, she loves her
nookie
and loves her booze,
she’s lost her cherry, but that’s no sin—she still has the box the cherry
came in!
Ahhhh
!”

We all laugh and take another drink.

“You do one, Finley. Go!” Leslie says loudly
over everyone’s chatter.

“Okay, um…this one is kind of boring. For every
wound, a balm. For every sorrow, a cheer. For every storm, a calm. And for
every thirst, a beer!
Er
…punch!”

Everyone cheers appreciatively and drinks.

“I’ve got one,” Mitch says quietly and we all
turn our surprised eyes to him.

He looks quickly to Julie and begins, “Here’s
to the wound that never heals, the more you rub it…the better it feels. All the
soap this side of hell, won’t wash away that fishy smell.”

Mitch finishes and takes a quick drink. We all
stare wide-eyed and deathly silent at Julie as we wait for the definite rapture
coming Mitch’s way.

“Wait, what?” she says, cocking her head
seriously. “I don’t get it.”

We all burst into laughter. Frank falls down
sideways on the counter holding his drink awkwardly and gripping his ribs. I’ve
never seen him laugh so hard, so I laugh harder in response. Leslie is squatted
down trying to get a hold of herself, and tears form in my eyes at the sight of
everyone laughing at Julie’s confused reaction. I look at her one more time and
another fit of laughter comes over me.

“Uh, hello?” a voice calls over top of our
laughter.

We all turn our heads and see Liam and three
other guys walking in beside him.

“We knocked, but no one answered,” he offers,
apologetically.

Liam looks good.
Damn good.
How is it possible he made a vicar costume look sexy? My
eyes travel slowly from his feet to his head. He’s wearing black jeans with
chunky black boots, a sexy black belt with a very masculine silver buckle, and
a black fitted V-neck t-shirt with a white collar, just like Mitch’s. And over
top of that he has a very sharp looking black leather jacket on. He looks
masculine, he looks strong…
he looks sexy
.
Damn it, anyway.

I can already feel the buzz of the red punch in
my head as I walk over to greet him. He eyes my dress affectionately and then
his gaze locks onto my mouth.

“Wow,” he says.

I smile back at him shyly, looking to his
friends for introductions, hoping to get the attention away from me.

He doesn’t seem to notice my silent request as
he continues staring at my matte red lips. I decide to take charge of the
situation and offer my hand, “Hi, I’m Finley.”

“James,” his friend to the right of him says,
taking my hand. He’s really short, a good five inches shorter than me and has
brown shaggy hair with dark olive skin. If I had to guess, I’d say he was of
Italian descent.

“I’m Ethan,” says this beautiful, tall,
chocolate-skinned guy standing on the other side of Liam. “Nice to meet you.
Thanks for inviting us,” he says, as he leans in to brush his lips against my
cheek.

I’m slightly taken aback by this intimate
gesture and then Liam’s hand clamps down on Ethan’s shoulder and he pulls him
back.

“Don’t make me regret inviting you,” Liam says
in a very firm tone.

Ethan smiles playfully back at me and holds his
hands up in surrender.

“Just being friendly,” he quips, with a quick
raise of his eyebrows.

“Go be friendly by the punch bowl,” Liam barks,
and with that, Ethan and James make their way over to the group crowding in the
kitchen.

“This is Theo,” he says, moving aside and
allowing Theo to come forward and shake my hand.

Theo has buzzed blonde hair and looks really
familiar for some odd reason. He looks over my shoulders and I turn to see him
checking out Leslie. Without giving me a second look, he moves us aside and
walks straight to Leslie. She turns when he grabs her arm and has a shocked
look on her face. Theo looks pissed. I watch them curiously, wondering how they
know each other.

“Finley,” Liam whispers into my ear from
behind. I feel his hands grasp my waist ever so lightly and I turn to face him.

His gaze dances from my eyes to my lips and he
looks…hungry. That’s the only word I can use to describe this look he has.
Hungry.
My belly flips at his perusal
and I begin to feel uncomfortable with our close proximity.

He smiles as if he’s reading my mind, then
leans in to kiss my cheek, “You look way too beautiful to be a tart.”

I smile back at him, “Thanks. I’m an expensive
tart,” I wink, playfully. “Can I get you a drink? There’s punch, or tons of
beer in the fridge. What’s your poison? Frank has a huge stash of liquor too,
if you like.”

He backs away, seemingly accepting my silent
request for lightness.

“Tell me the truth,” he reasons. “Did you tell
me to bring friends to prevent us from talking too much?”

I look at him and furrow my brow, “Talking
definitely wasn’t what I was worried about.”

He smirks and diverts his eyes from my mouth, “Your
legs look incredible.”

I half-smile at him, “You look pretty good
yourself, for a nasty old vicar.”

He laughs, “Beer would be great, cheers.”

I head over to the fridge and feel Liam’s
presence following me. He has all of my senses on high alert. I eavesdrop on
Leslie and Theo’s conversation and what I hear makes me stop and check on her.

“…why you just left…” Theo stops as I put my
arm around Leslie’s shoulders.

“Hey!” I offer brightly, trying to lighten the
mood. “You guys know each other?” I ask, as I take a gulp of my punch.

Theo turns and nods at me with a deep scowl to
his brow and Leslie looks at me like she’s about to burst. She gives me a nod
to follow her to the other room and I look back at her, confused.

As we move to leave, Theo grabs Leslie’s arm
and gives her an intense look like he’s not going to let her go. Leslie
eyeballs him for a very intense moment and Liam places a hand on Theo’s chest.

“Let the ladies chat, Theo,” Liam says, pushing
him back. “C’mon mate, there’s beer in the fridge.”

Leslie and I totter in our heels through the
dining room and into the living room where the music is much louder. I look at
her like I can’t hear her and she hurriedly grabs my arm and leads me down the
short hallway into the small bathroom.

She shuts the door quickly. It’s much quieter
but we’re standing toe to toe in the tight quarters. It only has a toilet and a
small old-fashioned basin. I hate using this bathroom because my long legs hit
the sink’s hardware when I sit down. The master suite and attached bathroom are
just down the hall but I’ve still never seen that room. I usually just walk up
the three flights of stairs to use my own private bathroom that offers a lot
more leg space.

“Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap!” Leslie stammers,
her eyes wide as she pulls the white strap of her loose tank top back on top of
her shoulder.
 

“What is it, Leslie? Spill it! Who is that
guy?” I question.

“You remember that night at Shay when you met
Liam?” she asks.

“Yeah, duh. Of course I do.”

“Well, do you remember the guy I danced with?
The cute one with the dark-framed glasses on?” she asks, nodding her head at me
encouragingly.

“Shit! That’s him?” I ask, shocked. London is a
huge city, there’s no way the one random guy she dances with on the dance floor
happens to be Liam’s friend.

“Yes! Holy balls, this is so weird!” She rubs
her hands over her cheeks and inspects herself in the mirror to make sure she
didn’t mess up her makeup.

I pull a small eyelash off her eye and ask,
“Why does he seem so grumpy?”

“He’s pissed! Like royally pissed,” she
screeches at me like I should know.

“What the heck for?” I ask still clueless.

She looks uncomfortable and I furrow my brow at
her reaction.

“What, Leslie? What did you do?” I ask, grabbing
her arms so she faces me and stops looking away.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God! I can’t tell you! I
can’t!” she shakes her head at me, looking away as her cheeks blush a bright
crimson.

“The cracks!” I scream at her, growing
frustrated with her demeanor.

She drops her head low and sits down onto the
toilet lid.

“Ugh, okay. God, this is so embarrassing,” she
begins. “So that night at Shay. You and I were dancing, remember? Acting like
fools.”

I nod in agreement.

“And we took those shots, two in a row, you
know? We were feeling good.
Really
good.” She pauses and adjusts her red lace bra up a bit, “Well, it’s been a
while for me since I’ve been with a guy. Like too long, Fin-Bin. Scary long.
There’s probably cobwebs down there for God’s sake. And apparently, my
coocha
has a mind of her own because…”

She pauses again with a horrified look on her
face, “I can’t, Finley. I can’t!” she cries.

“Leslie, if you make me say cracks one more
time…” I threaten.

“
Ohmygod
. Okay, okay,
okay. I came on his fucking leg!” she blurts out.

“What?” I question, assuming I heard her wrong.

“I was horny, Finley. H-o-r-n-y. Those shots
and the vodka tonics, the music, the lights, I don’t know…it like…kick-started
my
cooch
or something because she was wanting to do
more than just dance,” she says, pointing down toward her crotch.

“Did you have sex with him?” I question as
realization sets in.

“No! Jesus!” she barks, pissed off.

“Then what did you do, Leslie?”

“Argh! We were dancing really hot and heavy.
You were doing your own thing. I don’t know. Theo can move, what can I say? We
were dancing and his leg was in between my leg, you know,” she says, standing
up and demonstrating by placing her leg between mine. “I guess it was the
friction of his jeans or something. My panties were really thin that night
and…holy crap…your face right now. I can’t finish if you keep looking at me
with that face!”

“This is my face! My face is my face! I can’t
help my face! Finish! I’m dying here!” I screech.

With a big gust of air, she spews out the rest.

“We were dancing so hot and horny and
apparently the friction of jeans and the fact I haven’t seen a man’s penis in
over a year made me come on the damn dance floor amongst a crowd of people. I
had an orgasm in public, Finley! I came on a stranger’s leg like a horny dog
that can’t help but hump. I’m a freaking humping pervert of epic proportions
and I’ve shamed myself into celibacy. I’ve probably lost you as a friend; if
Frank ever finds out, it’ll be all over the damn Internet. I won’t hear the end
of this. My life is officially over,” she says, sullenly. “I’ll never look at a
leg the same way ever again.”

A silence creeps over the bathroom as her
confession marinates in my brain. I purse my lips together, trying to contain
my smile. When she looks up at me with sad, puppy-dog eyes, my mind instantly
connects the puppy eyes with her humping dog reference from earlier and I spit
everywhere as my lips part in a hearty laugh.