Marx Girl

Damn it.

I walk up the street a little and still can’t see him.

Shit.

I turn back to go back to work, and there he is, leaning up against the wall, wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and black cap.

His eyes hold mine and I smile softly as I approach him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles.

My heart starts to hammer, and I swallow the lump in my throat. Why does he make me so nervous? “Did you bring me morning tea?”

He nods once. “I did.”

Our eyes are locked. “Why?”

“I thought you might be hungry.”

6

Bridget

I stare at him for a moment and I don’t know what to say, because that’s so sweet, but I really want to be mad at him, too. Finally, good manners get the better of me. “Thank you.”

He nods once and bites his bottom lip.

“You didn’t call me,” I say.

“I wanted to.”

My eyes search his and then I drop them to the ground. What’s going on here?

“I got an apartment,” he blurts out.

I glance back up, surprised. “You did?”

“I can show you, if you want.” He shrugs as if trying to act casual. “Tonight, maybe?” His eyes hold mine and he seems nervous. “I mean… I don’t have any furniture or anything yet, but—”

“Sure,” I cut him off. “I’d like that.” I frown as I consider my next sentence. “As friends.”

He nods softly. “Of course.”

We stare at each other for a moment. Why is he so bad at talking to me?

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I nod.

“We can get something to eat?”

I smile softly and I know that this is the last thing that I should be doing, but fuck it. “Okay,” I reply.

He bites his bottom lip to stifle his smile. “So… see you then?”

I nod as I take a step backwards, unable to drag my eyes away from his beautiful face. “Bye, Ben.”

I don’t remember getting back to my desk. I don’t remember doing any work for the last two hours.

I do, however, feel off the charts excited and I shouldn’t.

But maybe tonight we’ll finally get to talk.

What the hell am I going to wear?

I’m on my third glass of wine. It’s 6:50 p.m. and I glance back at the mirror to study my reflection. I didn’t want to seem to be trying too hard by wearing a sexy dress, so I’m in a tight chocolate-coloured skirt that hangs just below my knees, and a white off-the-shoulder blouse. My hair is down and full, and I have minimal makeup on.

I’m nervous as hell as I sip my wine and reapply my lip-gloss.

God, I have literally no idea what is going to happen tonight. I may be back home within the hour. The door buzzer rings and my heart flips in my chest.

Here we go.

* * *

BEN

I push the door buzzer and wait.

“Hello,” Bridget’s sweet voice responds.

“Hi,” I murmur.

“Come in.”

I walk in and take the stairs. I don’t have the patience to wait for the lift.

Friends. She wants to be friends. Keep it to friends, I remind myself.

I know through Natasha that things aren’t good with her boyfriend, and Tash seems to think that they may have broken up—which is good, great actually—but I also know that she needs time if that’s the case.

But the last five years without her have left me with no patience at all. I take the stairs two at a time.

I get to the front door and exhale as I close my eyes. Just friends.

The door opens and there she stands, wearing a tight skirt, with her big, beautiful lips smiling at me. My cock instantly hardens.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Cut it out. “Hi, Didge.”

“Hi.” She gestures to her apartment. “Come in.”

I nod and walk into her apartment, taking a look around. Just as I thought, it’s impeccable, filled with luxurious furnishings, chandeliers, and warm, earthy tones. There’s a chocolate leather couch in the room and a big antique rug. The back wall has bi-fold doors that open onto a large deck that overlooks the ocean. A barbeque and outdoor setting are out there, with candles all over the table, furnishing the space. When Joshua told me that Natasha owns half of Bridget’s apartment with her, I knew that was his way of ensuring that Bridget lives in luxury. He’s generous like that.

“This is nice.” I smile as I look around. “It’s very you.”

She smiles back. “Do you want the tour?’

I nod.

“This is the main bathroom.” I peer in to find the bathroom is white marble with a grey swirl, with a large, freestanding bath and double-headed shower. The tap fittings are all trendy copper.

“This is the guest room.” She gestures into a room. It has white walls with a thousand different shades of aqua-coloured cushions on the bed, along with mirrored bedside drawers that match the mirror over the bed.

“Still got your cushion fetish?” I smirk.