The Complete Memories Series (36 page)

I pull up outside Jen’s block of flats and send her a text to say I’m here. I can’t believe I’m actually taking her shopping. I don’t know what the hell you buy in a supermarket... That’s Mum’s job.

Jen appears wrapped in skin tight jeans, a thick coat
, and snow boots. She walks carefully over to my car and gets in, knocking the snow from her feet first.

“
Anyone would think it’s the Arctic out here.” I grin and pull away.

“
I’ve lived on the beach my whole life. I don’t do snow.” She sniffs, and looks out the window. “It’s horrible.”

“
Nah.” I shake my head. “You just haven’t ever had a proper snowball fight.”

“
I don’t think I want to have one, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“
No, you do.” I insist. “Let’s do your shopping then we’ll have one.” I grin.

“
Er....” She turns those baby blues on me. “I’m really not an Eskimo.”

“
Sure?” I park in Tesco car park and reach over to tweak her fluffy hood. “You sure look like one.”

Her eyes narrow.
“I can tell this is going to be fun.”

I wink at her and we climb out the car. Even though the car park is clear of snow, the pathways are all icy. I
’m kind of hoping she slips so I can catch her. And then hold her up. And not let go.

Fucking hell!
I’m doing what Alec did and turning into a pussy whipped ass.

I snap myself out of it and watch Jen pick her steps on the least icy bits. She accidentally slips on a bit of black ice
, and my arm shoots out behind her, curling around her perfect waist and pulling her close to me.

“
I’ve got you,” I whisper in her ear. She nods and puts a hand on my chest, her long blue nails a stark burst of colour against my black coat.

“
You’ve got me,” she whispers back, slightly breathless.

“
Hold on tight, and don’t let go,” I give her my arm, and she grips it like a lifeline, leaning into me.

“
I won’t,” she replies as I grab a trolley.

Silently, a part of me is wishing the conversation had a totally different meaning.

We walk into the supermarket and she finally takes her hood down revealing her blonde locks. She shakes her hair out and digs into her pocket.

“
Shopping list,” she smiles sheepishly at me. “If I don’t have a list and stick to it, I tend to buy a load of unhealthy crap I don’t need.”

“
I blame my sister,” I mumble. “She’s always been Miss I Want It Now.”

“
Yep, shopping with her is a nightmare.”

She picks some bread off the shelf, followed by muffins, and drops them into the trolley.

“Double chocolate chip muffins?” I question.

“
Necessary evil.” She smacks her lips together.

“
If it’s evil, then why buy it?”

“
You really don’t want me to answer that question.” She plucks her way through the fruit and veg section. I think there’s a bit of everything going in the trolley.

“
If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t ask.”

She shrugs her shoulders and hooks her fingers round the trolley, directing it down another aisle.

The women’s aisle.

“
Um,” I manage.

“
You said you wanted to know!” She giggles and puts a box of tampons in the trolley. I’m pretty sure I look like a deer in headlights.

Hell no. I did
not
sign up for buying little mice you insert into your body.

“
Are we done in the, uh…” I cough slightly. “Ladies aisle?”

“
I’m not sure....” Jen taps a finger against her lips in a steady rhythm. Attention? Diverted.

Her tongue snakes out and runs across her top lip, sticking to the side as she reaches up for a can of deodorant. I let go of the trolley and get it for her, putting it in her hand.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“
No, thank you for buying it,” I wink at her. “I could smell you from where I was stood.”

She drops back from her tiptoes
, and levels a glare at me. “If I were you I’d watch it, Samuel, before you and my tampons get acquainted. Very,
very
acquainted.”

“
Sounds kinky.” I start walking again.

“
You are so disturbed I don’t even have any words to respond to that.”

“
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.