Perfectly Obsessed (4 page)

As I bend down to grab my bag from the floor, he strides over completely naked and unaffected by displaying everything in front of me and blocks the door so I can’t leave.

“Is that what this is about? I was joking, I could have had any woman if I only wanted to blow my load, and I also could have gone straight home that day. I booked into the bed and breakfast and tracked you down because I couldn’t think of anyone while I was banged up apart from you.”

Oh God, this is embarrassing on an epic scale.

“You didn’t sound like you were joking,” I mutter, defensively.

“That’s because you don’t know me well enough, yet. But you will eventually and this little show won’t happen again.”

He steps towards me and takes my bag from me and drops it to the floor.

“See, we’re getting to know each other every second. I now know you can’t take a joke,” he chuckles.

My eyes narrow and I force on a smile. I normally can take a joke, yet this, whatever it is happening between us doesn’t feel like a joke.

“And, I’m not passing through tonight, I came especially for you.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and as much as I like to look at you with your clothes on, you are very much overdressed for how I imagined tonight would be. So let me undress you again and we can carry on getting to know each other.”

That is what we did for the rest of the weekend. We stayed in the one room ordering room service, talking, and exploring each other’s bodies. Time meant nothing, it didn’t matter if it was four a.m. or four p.m., we only slept when we couldn’t keep our eyes open and when we weren’t sleeping we were connecting on levels I never knew existed between two people.

Chapter Three – October 2002

I used to dread finishing my shift and going home. Now, I dread beginning my shift and not being with Drake. He’s stuck around since the night he took me to the hotel in the city. Every night apart from one we have been together, he picks me up when my shift ends and he drops me off at the beginning of each day. Each time I go home for a change of clothes, my overnight bag gets more and more loaded for one night and my father’s voice gets louder and louder.

After a couple of weeks of staying in the hotel every night I asked if he could afford it because he wouldn’t let me help and at ninety-five pounds a night for the room, it had to have been crippling his bank account.

Each time I brought it up he would assure me it was nothing for him, I deserved luxury and he wanted to be the one who made sure I got it. It’s what every woman wants to hear from a new man in her life and while it’s nice to be treated like a princess, I wasn’t interested in being spoiled by him, I just wanted him.

I told him I didn’t want him spending money on me, that spending time with him was all I needed from him but he wouldn’t have any of it. So now I don’t say anything and trust he knows what he can afford and what he can’t.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I am falling fast for him and every minute I’m not with him, I’m thinking about him. His good looks are a bonus, most of the men I have been with over the years have been easy on the eye, apart from on the odd occasion I have been too drunk to make a good judgement call regarding their appearances and scared myself silly waking up to them the next morning. However, I see past Drake’s appearance because all I see when I look at him is the way he looks at me. His eyes impale me, they take in every imperfection I feel I have and turn them into perfections. 

“Can you hurry up, some of us have proper jobs to get back to.”

I hear as the blasted coffee machine plays up again making my job harder than it should be. Breathing as deeply as I can I try to calm down and start again.

“I’ll be right with you,” I assure the customer behind me at the counter.

I end up banging the side of the machine to get it going again, normally that works at times like this and today is no exception. The machine begins to hum and I quickly prepare his cappuccino.

“Seriously, how long does it take to pour coffee?” the customer angrily mutters, “Absolutely ridiculous,” he carries on.

It normally doesn’t take long to make a coffee but if he carries on he will find out how long it takes for me to empty the entire contents over his head and then we’ll see what he has to say.

“It’s nearly ready sir, one second,” I promise, trying to remember I need this job and can’t go around throwing coffee over people even if they do deserve it.

Placing a plastic lid on the cup and wrapping a napkin around it I turn to hand it over when I see Drake standing directly behind the rude customer. I don’t know how this came to be with my back turned but the rest of the customers in the queue have backed off, leaving Mr Rude on his own and unaware of who stands behind him. He has always had an intense air around him but right now, he looks deadly. Slowly rolling his neck in small circles, his eyes are solely focused on the back of the customer’s head.

My heart thumps erratically and then feels like it’s dropped to bottom of my stomach.

The customer still unaware of Drake clicks his fingers in my direction and snaps me out of my Drake haze.

“Come on girl, I don’t have all day,” he grumbles, clicking his fingers at me again.

I hand over his coffee and step back when Drake inches closer to him.

“If you click your fingers at my girl one more time, I’m going to break every single one of them,” he threatens, eerily calm but deadly venomous.

My eyes dart to the customer and his face turns to stone. Whether in fear or in anger at being threatened I don’t know.

His face begins to turn red and he huffs snatching up his brief case and turns to walk away. He makes it halfway to the door before Drake is like a predator about to pounce on his prey.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” he calls out, taking steps to follow the customer.

“Drake,” I warn.

This happens more often than not and it really doesn’t bother me anymore.

He completely ignores me and keeps his eyes on his prey.

“W-what?” the customer stammers out.

“The drinks aren’t fucking free, pay her and after the abuse you thought you could spout to her, she deserves a fucking tip.”

I watch half fascinated and half worried of what could happen. The strange thing is I’m not worried for the customer, but I am for Drake. I don’t want him getting into trouble for me. The way he is commanding this guy and everyone else in the shop shows his confidence and attitude of not caring what people think of him and he is doing it for me. If I’m brutally honest, it’s turning me on more than he already does.

He dips his hand in his pocket and throws a five pound note on the counter and then looks at Drake then me, silently wanting to know if it is enough. I quickly nod it is fine and he escapes from the shop promising never to come back.

“I’ll wait for you over here,” Drake tells me, before taking a seat in the corner.

I make progress whittling down the queue and the machine thankfully doesn’t give me any more grief. My heart rate returns to normal, as much as it can with Drake in the same room and I start to appreciate him standing up for me. Apart from Lorna on the odd occasion when we were at school, no one has stood up for me before with such authority and success. It feels good.

Once the last customer has been served I scowl at the machine and walk over to where Drake is waiting for me and take my break.

“Why do you let wankers treat you like that?” he asks, pissed off, before I have managed to sit down comfortably.

“Why are you angry at me?” I answer with my own question because I don’t understand. I didn’t ask for him to step in to my rescue. I didn’t need rescuing.

“I’m angry because you just let him talk to you like shit, you stood there and took it.”

“Drake, that happens at least twice every shift I work. If I reacted every time some arsehole was impatient with me I would’ve lost my job a long time ago,” I explain, hoping he will understand. He leans across the table and clutches our hands together.

“From now on nobody and I mean nobody treats you like that,” he begins, “I don’t care what you say, you are worth more than being some prick’s coffee lackey and even if you can’t see it, I can and while I’m around, it won’t happen again,” he promises.

‘While I’m around’ is all I heard, I hate that he could up and disappear at a moment’s notice.

I don’t know what he does while I am working, I assumed he found work that he doesn’t talk about and I hoped it was enough to maybe keep him in town.

“You sound like you’re going to leave soon,” I manage to say, controlling my voice as much as I can.

“I’ll leave at some point,” he shrugs, “but not until you agree to come with me.”

I gasp when I see he is being serious then smile because this isn’t a fling, it really is the beginning of something serious for us.

“You don’t have to agree to anything this minute, but I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere without you. I’ve waited a long time for you and I’m not about to give you up,” he says, rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand.

“I heard you tell that guy I was your girl, does that mean we are…?” I ask, well try to as I can’t make myself say the words.

“Together?” he asks himself.

I nod.

“I would say so, unless you’ve been seeing other people behind my back?”

“As if, I’ve been with you every day.”

Why would he think that?

“You still don’t know when I’m joking, do you?” he laughs, and leans over the table to kiss me.

“I know you haven’t been with anyone. I classed us as together when I told you I would be back for you. You’re my girlfriend so if I say don’t let anyone treat you like shit, you don’t or I will step in and I might not be so nice next time.”

I should be hearing warning bells listening to the violence in his promise but the bells are so distant I can barely hear them. I could be deaf for as much as I heard them, all I saw was this man sitting opposite me looking like I am all he ever needed.

“I won’t anymore,” I promise.

“Good,” he grins, “I want to take you somewhere tomorrow night, can you get away for a couple of nights?” he asks, returning to his content self.

My brother, Adam’s earlier appearance comes to mind and I remember I have been summands to my father’s birthday dinner at home tomorrow night. My mother had sent my brother into the shop because I haven’t been home in a few days and every time she calls I’ve missed her. I have also been given orders to bring whoever is taking all my time up and keeping me from home. Never mind that I am twenty-three he still thinks he can tell me what to do. My brothers have both moved out and are married and yet I can’t lead my life however I see fit.

“It’s my father’s birthday tomorrow and my mother is cooking a big meal for him, he wants me there and my reason I haven’t been home in a while,” I say in one breath before I can change my mind.

I don’t know if I am more nervous about my parent’s meeting Drake or for him to meet them.

“You haven’t mentioned much about your family,” he points out.

I frown and reply, “There isn’t much to say,”

He leans back in his chair and studies me.

“Will you come?” I ask, with slight hesitation when he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll be there.”

Drake dropped me off home this morning saying he had some business to take care off today but promised to be back in time for my father’s meal.

My nerves and my imagination ran wild as I stepped through the door. My mother was flittering around the house with a can of polish and a duster like usual, heaven forbid a speck of dust should coat any surface of the furniture. My father was at work at the factory while my brother’s wouldn’t arrive till this evening.

I spent most of the day in my room as I have done over the years questioning why I am so different to my family. My brothers and I were raised in the same house by the same parents. They wouldn’t say it out loud but I know I was a later in life mistake. There is a ten-year age gap between me and Mark, the second oldest son and a twelve-year age gap between Adam and I. My father is different with them, at first I thought it was because I was a girl and he wanted his boys, now I think he just never wanted me. Making me feel like I was constantly in the way. The reason why they couldn’t escape on a last minute holiday whenever they fancied when the boys left home.

Always strict to the point my fight for a little freedom transformed into disobedience and made it look ten times worse than it actually was.

I ventured down to the kitchen to find my mother busy peeling the potatoes and I pour myself a glass of wine to try and settle my nerves that are building with every minute that passes.

While we are alone my mother decides she wants to know more about Drake before he gets here. It dawns on me this is the first conversation we’ve had regarding my love life. I’ve never brought a boyfriend home and I haven’t uttered a word about my one night stands.

“What’s he like?” she asks.

For a brief moment, I almost feel connected to the woman who gave birth to me. She asks me questions, but there’s a difference in asking when you want to know the answer and asking because you have to.

“He is gorgeous,” I smile, telling her the obvious, “When he’s with me, he makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the world.”

I stop there because the rest of what he makes me feel isn’t appropriate for a mother to hear. I choose to keep his intensity to myself too, I like it but I doubt my mother would see it in the same way.

“Is it serious?” she asks, glancing my way.

It has taken spending more time away from the house to fully see how much my mother has aged. Although not a hair is out of place it looks limp and dull, the bags under her eyes look heavy and her shoulders sag in defeat. She looks sad but I grin and reply, “It is.”

It’s all she needs to hear because she sends me on to set the table. 

My father arrives home from work not long after moaning about having to be rerouted into town because of some robbery at the national bank in the city as I am clock watching, counting down the minutes till Drake arrives.

“Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence,” he grumbles.

I take a minute to really look at the man who had a hand in giving me life. He is looking older and the grey is well and truly setting in. His job at the factory keeps the weight off but he is looking tired and haggard. Just like mum. 

“Happy birthday, dad,” I mutter.

“So, where’s this man I’ve been hearing about?” he asks, looking around the dining room and into the kitchen.

“He’s not here yet, I told him to be here for seven.”

“Go and wash up, Robert. The boys will be here soon,” my mother says, coming into the dining room with an extra chair for Drake.