Eternally North (22 page)

In celebration of my
dormant hormones, I decided that I would treat myself to a shower. An
entire tub of brown sugar body scrub later, I dressed and scurried
into Tink’s room to style my hair and apply my much-missed shovel
of make-up. I looked into the mirror and grinned; my locks were once
again shiny and smooth, flowing down my back with a gentle curl at
the ends, and my trusty Mac make-up collection had replenished my
lackluster pallor. I had put on my red-tartan wool shorts with black
tights and a black, fitted long-sleeved top that accentuated my
figure, and I felt bloomin’ great.

I made my way to the
kitchen and began to make a proper English fry-up in honour of
feeling healthy and as a big food-based thank you to Mr. Hollywood –
not ‘The Blade Reaper’ but ‘The Domesticator’! I opened the
kitchen blinds, letting sunshine flood into the front room, flicked
the stereo onto a country radio station and set to cooking bacon and
eggs to the soothing tones of Miranda Lambert and Lady Antebellum.

As I was plating up the
delicious morning feast, I heard a commotion coming from my bedroom.
I turned my head to hear better, when Tudor came barrelling into the
kitchen shouting my name and halting on the spot when he found me at
the cooker, spatula in hand and dolled up in my novelty apron
depicting Botticelli's, 'The Birth of Venus' in all her naked glory.

“Tash? What are you
doing out of bed?” he yelled.

I smiled and shook my
head. “Good morning to you, too! And for your information, Mr.
North, I am feeling one hundred percent better,” I twirled around
and gave an enthusiastic grapevine step, showcasing my resurrected
kinetic abilities.

He began walking
towards me, and with each step his lips lifted into a joyful smile,
his t-shirt and jeans all rumpled from slumber, but still managing to
look like a Calvin Klein model. When he reached the kitchen island,
he glanced down and spotted the calorific feast. “What's all this?”

“This, my good
friend, is a celebration of my cracking hormone stability and your
stellar care-giving skills. I hope you’re not watching your figure,
Hollywood, as this may seriously add a few pounds!”

He moved back from the
island, a cheeky, shit-eating grin on his face and lifted his tight
white tee to his chest, displaying his ripped abs and swirling black
tattoo. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay just this once, what do
you think?” he said with a cock of his head.

Holy fuck! What do I
think? Sheesh! I want to scrap the fry-up and nibble down on every
tasty morsel of that muscle-laden smorgasbord! That’s not a six
pack, that’s a friggin’ brewery, and this girl’s game for a
piss up!

I tried to focus and
picked up the spatula that I had dropped at the impromptu brawn
peep-show, and managed to mumble, “Erm…yeah I think you’ll be
okay just this once.”

I was blushing
furiously, my face – and other unmentionable places – on fire!

Tudor smirked and let
his T-shirt drop, knowing full well what he had just done to me. I
very nearly pole-vaulted the breakfast bar to stop the material from
falling back into place, but I thought it might look a bit too eager,
and I wasn’t confident that the wooden spoon in the pan of baked
beans would give me enough spring action to clear the necessary
height.

Tudor began chuckling
at my loss of composure. I guessed I wasn’t the first victim of the
‘
ab attack
’.

I cleared my throat,
removed my apron and instructed, “Right, take your plate and have a
seat. The food is getting cold.”

“Yes, sir!” he
mock-saluted.

I walked past and heard
a quick, sharp inhale. I turned around to find Tudor staring at my
arse.

“Hey! I’m up here,
pervert!” I scolded.

His eyes shot up to
mine, his expression guilty. “Sorry, Sunshine. I-I like the shorts.
Really like the shorts,
” he murmured under his breath.

“What?” I asked,
not quite sure I had heard him correctly.

He smiled. “I said
this looks nice.” He lifted the plate of food to his nose and
sniffed. “Yum!”

We tucked into
breakfast, both feeling much happier at the fact that I’d
recovered. I sent a quick text to the Tinkster letting him know I was
feeling better, poured out two cups of post-fry-up ristratto coffee
and moved to the couch to chill, with Tudor in tow. We settled in and
I switched the TV on, lowering the volume so we could chat.

I took a sip of my
java. “So…”

He tipped his head to
the side, and smirked. “So?”

“
So
, I was
just thinking, now that I’m better, you’re free to go back home.”

His face fell, and he
took a long sip from his cup. He placed his mug on the coffee table,
and rubbed his hands together, “I suppose you’re right. I should
get out of your hair, you’re probably sick of me.”

I put a hand on his
shoulder. “No I didn’t mean you
have
to go. I just thought
that you would
want
to… I like you being here with me.”

He visibly relaxed and
peeked up at me shyly. “I don’t mind hanging around, you know,
just to make sure you’re alright today.”

I felt the butterflies
in my stomach again. I think they had just taken acid.

I nodded and smiled.
“I’d like that.”

He picked up his coffee
and settled back onto the couch. We sat in comfortable silence, both
catching glimpses of each other staring at the other, causing us to
burst out laughing.

He patted the arm of
the couch. “Okay, I’m going to get a shower. I won’t be long.
We’ll have a movie duvet day after that if you want?”

I scrunched my face up.

“What?” he asked
frowning.

“I’ve been cooped
up in here for days. Do you fancy a walk somewhere instead?”

He rubbed his lips
together. “Yeah okay. Give me ten minutes. I know just the place.”

Tudor made his way to
the shower, and I tried very hard not to visualise him naked and wet
in my bathroom, using my loofah in those hard-to-clean areas.

To distract my mucky
mind, I picked up all the dirty cups and plates instead and began
loading the dishwasher. I cleaned the countertops until they were
sparkling, and by the time I was done, Tudor was walking out of my
bedroom, stretching his arms over his head, looking like the living,
breathing Canadian version of King Leonidas from
300
–
completely unaware of me, frozen in place and drooling.
This is
Sparta!

I quickly shook my head
clear of my wanton thoughts and began putting away the cleaning
supplies. As Tudor walked by the TV area, my phone started ringing
from its place on the coffee table.

“Tude, would you
answer my phone please? It’s probably Tink calling for another
update.”

“Sure, no problem,”
he saluted, and answered the phone on the third ring.

I quickly washed my
hands to remove the scent of antiseptic, and I heard Tudor’s voice
turn ice cold, “Yes she’s here. I’ll just put her on.”

I turned towards him,
his face was rigid in anger, jaw clenching, holding out my phone.

I swallowed
apprehensively and held out my hand. “What?”

He thrust the phone
towards me, exhaling harshly. “It’s Gage.”

I nervously stared him
straight in his eyes. He had me trapped in his gaze.

“T-Thanks,” I
whispered.

I brought the phone to
my ear, Tudor never looked away. “Hello?” I answered weakly.

“Hey, Natasha, it’s
Gage, from the show the other night. Arianna’s brother.”

“Oh, yeah. Hi, Gage.”

Tudor folded his arms
over his chest, breathing loudly, failing to conceal his dislike of
the whole situation. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his magnetic
stare.

“Hey, is it a bad
time?”
Yes, it couldn’t be worse!
“No, no, it’s fine.
How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks.
Even better now that I’m speaking to you.”

“Aww, thanks, that’s
sweet of you to say.” Tudor made a face like a bulldog chewing a
wasp at that.

"It's true. I’m
calling to see if you still wanted to go for coffee? I was thinking
tomorrow if you haven’t got any plans, say in the afternoon
sometime? I have errands to run in the morning but could call you
when I'm done?”

Tash, you need to
go. Gage is nice, good dating material. Tudor is a friend, he has
made that crystal clear. It’s only coffee, you need to do this to
move on. Take a chance.

I nodded, causing Tudor
to tilt his head in question. “That sounds great, tomorrow
afternoon. Call me in the morning to confirm the place and time and
I’ll meet you there.”

I could actually hear
Gage smile through the line. “Awesome. It’s funny, when a guy
answered your cell I was worried you had got yourself a boyfriend
since Wednesday, that I was too late.”

I stiffened. “No...
he’s not my boyfriend, he’s just... a friend. I’m completely
single.”

Tudor stumbled back,
lowered his arms and clenched his fists repeatedly at his sides. I
wondered for a split second if he was going to punch a hole in the
wall. It certainly looked that way.

“Phew, that’s a
relief! I’ll call you tomorrow, for sure. I’m really looking
forward to it, Natasha. Have a nice afternoon.”

I finally looked away
from Tudor, who was as still as a photograph. “Me too. I’ll see
you then, Gage. Have a nice day.”

I hung up and gripped
the counter top. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife, so I
waited about thirty seconds and turned around. Tudor was still
standing in the same place, eyes focused on the floor.

I plastered on a fake
smile. “So, I’m all cleaned up here. Shall we go for that walk?”
I asked in an overly cheery voice.

He took a shuddering
breath and darted his eyes anywhere but at me. “Erm, I-I just
remembered that I have to go. I need to be somewhere else after all.”

Hell no, not again!

“Tude, you promised.
You said no more awkwardness. Please don’t do this again.” I
complained as I moved around the kitchen island towards him.

He squeezed his eyes
shut once and then focused his gaze back on me. “You’re right, I
did. But I-I can’t go with you today, Tash. I need to go. Please, I
need time on my own. It’ll all be fine, don’t worry.” He
sounded broken, his voice was just above a whisper and I swear his
eyes were misting over.

“Tudor, you told me
to go out with him only the other night, remember?” I pleaded,
trying to make him understand. He told me to friggin do this!

He smiled, and nodded.
“I did and you should.”

He straightened and
composed himself, looking normal once again and not in any way
affected. “Honestly, Sunshine, go, have a good time, you deserve
it. I do need to go, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

He walked over and gave
me a weak, one-armed hug. I knew he was lying; sure, he was an actor
and his profession was to pretend, but I could read this man like a
book!

He shifted away from me
to walk out of the door, reaching for his car keys and mobile phone
on the bookcase.

I went after him in a
last-ditch attempt to salvage the situation, tugging on his arm,
twisting him around. “Tudor, please, let’s just go out as
planned, we can do this, we can be friends without all the weirdness…
Just try, for me, please.”

He stilled and ran a
finger down my cheek, eyes tinged with sadness, simply shaking his
head: no.

My head fell onto his
chest, and I relented and let go of his arm. He leaned forward and
kissed my head softly; I could see he didn’t want to leave but he
was forcing himself to go.

He walked quickly to
the door and simply bowed his head once as a goodbye. I opened it
unwillingly, and he left without even glancing back. I watched him
disappear around the corner to the elevator and then shut the door.

I slowly released the
handle and placed my head against the cold, hard wood. I guessed he
was really trying, giving us the space to be friends without the
drama, but should it be like this? Should it be this difficult?

I eventually peeled
myself away from the frame and began to shuffle back into the living
room, resigning myself to a chill-out day after all and trying to
remember if I had stocked up on enough Ben and Jerry's ice-cream.

I had only just reached
the couch when there was a hard, continuous knock at the door.

Who the hell could
that be now?

I reluctantly pulled on
the handle, feeling exhausted at Tudor’s sudden departure drama,
and stepped back in shock when over the threshold was the man
himself. There he stood, like Adonis himself; eyes shining, body
tense, strong, determined jaw, and hands braced on the door frame,
tension pulsing from his strained muscles.

“Tudor, what the–?”
I began to ask.

He was fast. He leapt
forward, startling me.

“Fuck it!” he
growled as he cupped my face in his strong hands, pulled me to his
chest and smashed his lips down onto mine.

Tudor’s massive frame
pushed me back into the condo, devouring my lips. I heard the front
door slam shut and I was pressed hard against the hallway wall. He
moved his hand from my cheeks and roughly into my hair, moaning as
his tongue sought entrance into my mouth. I was stunned…

He tasted delicious;
all mint and sweet and
mmm
... I knew it would be like this.

Wait!

I moved my head to the
side, breaking the kiss and breathing hard. He didn’t stop. He
began feathering kisses across my burning cheeks, creating a path to
my neck, licking and nipping at my jaw line.

“Tudor, wait–"
I whispered breathlessly.

He didn’t.

His hands began to roam
freely, his lips still fixed to my skin. His palms traced a line from
my hair, skirting over my face, down to my shoulders, where they
pushed the material of my shirt to the side, exposing my collar bone
and the top curves of my breasts.