Dirty Bad Savage(64)
“I’m tired now, Vick. Let’s call it a night, yeah?” I pulled my hoodie up.
She looked at the clock. “Ain’t even ten o’clock. Ain’t getting all tetchy about lover girl, are you? I was only joking.”
“Raven’s coming round for them pictures in a couple of days. Got a lot to do.”
She hovered in the doorway so long I couldn’t bear to look. “You can come up if you want, share the bed, like. More comfy.”
“I’m alright here, Vick.” I smiled at her and she smiled back, but it was an empty smile.
It took her fucking ages to go upstairs, and it took me even longer to bed down for the night.
***
Sophie
“It’s a bloody work night,” Bex laughed. “I’ll be spelling people’s fucking tats wrong tomorrow if you don’t stop. I’ll send them round to you for compensation.”
She held out her glass regardless, ready for a refill. “Just need to get you drunk enough that you don’t care.”
Raven looked strange in this place, infinitely more flamboyant than the neutral colour scheme. She did a funny whistle again as she eyed the place, high-pitched enough that Casey jumped up on her lap. The dog took advantage when Bex didn’t push her aside, curling up between us on the sofa.
“I still can’t believe this is your pad,” Bex said. “It’s seriously swanky. Not even Masque’s pad is this neat. I’ll have to bring Cara next time, make a foursome of it.”
“Harding’s property empire sure buys the best.”
“Mood lighting, voice activated entertainment system, view of the Thames... Christ on a bike. I’m surprised Cal’s comfortable breathing in this place.”
“Not so sure he is,” I smiled. “He still perches on the edge of the sofa, scared to dirty it.”
“Seems madam here isn’t so self-restrained.” Raven scruffed up Casey’s ears until she rolled on her back, no longer even playing at being covert in her sofa-furring mission.
“Madam is taking over the place, one soft furnishing at a time.”
“I’m impressed, didn’t take you for much of a dog lover.”
“What’s not to love?” I grinned. “Well, besides the bin raiding and nose in all the cupboards and the fur on the pillows.”
“You love it all,” she laughed. “And her daddy too.”
“I need to ask you something.” I poured the rest of the bottle in my glass.
“Sounds ominous.”
“About me,” I explained. “Do I seem right to you?”
“Right?”
“Sane, I mean, healthy. Regular. Normal.”
She smiled. “No, you don’t seem right, thank fuck.”
“I’m serious. I feel like I’m off the rails.”
Her eyes fixed on mine. “Isn’t that what the Mr Dangerous quest was all about? You’re breaking out, baby, that’s a good thing.”
“I’m being reckless, impulsive... crazy. The stunt on the balcony, I mean seriously, Bex, what the fuck was that all about?”
“You’d have been fucking dead if he’d have lost his grip,” she said. “Just be grateful you got your period and let it go, it’s the least of your worries now. You two are all in. It’s a collision of needs, baby, two people wanting more, and veering across the road and back before they find what works.”
“Sounds poetic. I think he makes me crazy.”
“Maybe he does. Is that bad?” Her eyes twinkled, and I just knew there was so much more she could be saying.
“Part of me thinks it’s bad. Part of me can’t live without it.”
She shuffled up, leaning in conspiratorially even though we were the only ones there. “Talk about him, I want to hear all the loved-up crap.”
I took a breath, then glugged back some wine. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He doesn’t have the same filters that I have, doesn’t have the same massive list of shit he feels he can and can’t do. He doesn’t second guess himself, and sure as hell isn’t worried what everyone thinks of him, or how he looks, or how he appears on social media. He’s refreshingly unrestrained.”
“And...” she prompted.
“And he’s wild, and raw, and aggressive... he’ll take what he wants, when he wants it. He doesn’t live in fear of convention. He doesn’t hold back.”
She smiled. “And...”
I sighed. “More?”
“Keep rolling, baby.”
“And he’s deep. He’s a beautiful tragedy. A beautiful savage. The way he looks at the world, the way he paints... the way he loves.”