I winked at Vera and made my way out the heavy, black-glossed front door. It was these stolen moments that kept me sane, that gave me hope. Stepping outside, I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sky, breathing in the alluring scent of rain in the air. The sky was a paler shade of grey now, things were definitely looking …
Oh no.
I always heard him before I saw him – the distant revs of his V8 could be heard from streets away. The sound made me instantly recoil behind the pillar of Nana's terrace as I looked down the road. A new sense of dread hit me in the pit of my stomach.
Why did this keep happening to me?
The sound of screeching tyres heralded the arrival of the rain-beaded, navy blue Aston Martin. The first few times I saw the car I held my breath, thinking there was no way he was going to pull up in time, no way he could slide into that narrow little parking space at such a speed. I have since had the misfortune of seeing the driver pull off the exact same stunt several times a week for the last three weeks.
The driver was our neighbour, a man I couldn't stand, a man who was sliding out of his car in front of me, all suave and swagger as he pulled his perfectly tailored jacket together, wearing ridiculously expensive sunglasses that protected him from the invisible English sun. His hair was thick and dark and a little unruly; I guessed that he was the kind of man who drove with the window down. He wanted to be seen, and he certainly moved to be watched. It was almost as if he walked in slow motion, like he was on the set of a GQ fashion shoot or something. Just because I didn't like him didn't mean I was completely ignorant of his pretty face and equally impressive physique, but it was offset by his infuriating arrogance. Yes, hating Jack Baker was oh so easy, I felt it whenever that high-wattage smile and those ridiculous dimples were in my presence. Like right now, his square-tipped leather shoes stepping along the pavement as he slowly peeled off his sunglasses, looking up at me on my doorstep. My arms were folded, my brows narrowed. My usual reaction whenever our paths crossed.
Jack stopped short of my steps, his gaze wandering over my attire as if intrigued, like he didn't often come across a creature who wasn't dressed in a brand name. Sure, I wasn't exactly Oxford Street fashionable, but I liked the finer things, I just couldn't afford them; my experience of high fashion was through the oft-thumbed pages of my treasured Vogue and Harper's Bazaar magazines.
I hated the way he looked at me; even standing above him I always felt so incredibly small and insignificant. My scowl deepened (usually I would just simply give him the middle finger, which always thrilled him no end, but I was trying to exercise restraint). He tucked his sunglasses inside his coat pocket, a little smirk pinching the corner of his mouth.
'Stop flirting with me, Kate,' he said, pressing the security button to his car without taking his eyes off me.
'Is that supposed to impress me?' I deadpanned, determined to stand strong on today's staring competition, a battle of the wills. I always seemed to win, mainly because Jack Baker rarely took anything seriously. His lazy one-shoulder shrug really ticked me off.
'Been waiting for me for long, have you?' he said, cocking his brow as he went to his door. I rolled my eyes, finally putting my feet into motion and leaving the safety of the terrace.
I blinked sweetly. 'All my life.'
Jack leant against his doorway, folding his arms. 'I sense … sarcasm.'
'Do you?'
'Little bit,' he said, measuring it with his thumb and forefinger.
I readjusted the strap of my bag, ready to leave this riveting exchange.
'You know I can't help but think we started off on the wrong foot,' he said.
I stopped wrestling with my handbag, walking back up to the edge of his wrought-iron gate, barely believing what I was hearing. 'Ah, ya think?'
Jack rubbed the edge of his jawline. 'Was it something that I said?'
Said? SAID? Was he joking?
I watched his genuinely blank expression, feeling my blood boil under the surface of my skin.
'YOU NEARLY FUCKING HIT ME WITH YOUR CAR!' I screamed.
Jack broke into a smile. 'Oh yeah, wow, that was when we first met.'
Oh, it was the first time we had met all right, a day I would have given anything to forget. I had been trying to escape from being Nana's human wool-holder while she knitted an ill-shaped tangerine scarf and scoffed about the 'myth' of global warming. My bid for freedom had been quickly derailed when Jack Baker appeared in his shiny blue death-mobile, slamming on his brakes. My scream had rung through the air as his car skidded along the rain-soaked street right before me, so close that the bumper touched my thighs and my hands anchored themselves to the bonnet. My eyes wild and wide, my heart thumping against my chest, I had looked through the windshield to an ashen face that mirrored my own: eyes big, brown and horrified. Jack had wrestled with his seatbelt before opening up the driver's side door with lightning speed to stand next to me.