Poles Apart

His face broke into a beautiful grin before he bent his head and traced his nose up the side of my face, kissing my cheek lightly. “Okay, good. So, getting back to what we were talking about before I stole your germs.” He pulled back, hovering above me as he continued. “With a dance on top of your wages, you earn, on average, about £100 a night. That’s what you would have probably earned tonight and the same again tomorrow, right?” he asked, looking at me seriously.

I nodded, unsure as to where he was going with this. “Mmm hmm.”

“Right. Well, then you’ve already earned enough to take the night off tomorrow,” he replied, rolling off me and lying against my side. I looked at him, confused. How could I have done that? That didn’t make sense at all. He smiled. “I paid you more than that for the backroom tonight. You earned more tonight than you would normally earn over two nights. So, that means you can afford to call in sick tomorrow.”

I frowned at that. He’d overpaid me again; the stupid boy really did like to throw his money at me sometimes! “Carson, you didn’t overpay me again, did you?” I closed my eyes and shook my head; he really needed to stop doing that.

He laughed. “Just a little. But on the plus side, you can now take the night off tomorrow and you’ll still be up on what you would have earned.” He kissed my cheek, his hand tracing down my arm, cupping my elbow before sliding down my wrist and interlacing our fingers. “Please, take the night off and just get yourself better.”

I thought it through. I would love to have an early night for a change, to wake up on a Monday morning for university and have had more than four hours sleep the night before. That would be a totally new experience for me. I smiled at the thought of just chilling out, sitting around in a pair of thick socks and a hoodie, watching bad movies with Rory. “Okay, I will. Thank you, baby.”

He smiled and kissed me again, stealing my breath and making my heart rate increase. This time, I managed to keep hold of my sweet. He pulled out of the kiss and put his forehead to mine.

“I guess I’d better go see what’s left of my bike,” he said, chuckling to himself.

I groaned as he mentioned his bike. “If you’re expecting it to still be there then I think you’re gonna be really disappointed.” I looked at him apologetically.

He just laughed and shrugged. “The coffee was worth it, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead again before pushing himself off me. “I won’t bother coming to the club tomorrow then, seeing as you’re not going to be there.” He looked at me sternly and I did a mock salute, giggling. “So, I guess I’ll see you the weekend after next. I’m racing next weekend in Italy so I won’t see you then. Wanna do the interview thing again?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, pulling me to my feet.

I grinned. “Sure. How about you get the word ‘fluffy’ in there somewhere?” I offered, laughing at his horrified expression.

“That’s not a very macho word. Fluffy. Really?” he scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and pushed on his chest. “Get out of my place so I can go to sleep!” I ordered playfully.

His hand closed over mine as he tugged me to the door with him. He pulled it open and then turned back to me, pressing his lips against mine again for a couple of seconds before walking off without another word. I sighed dreamily and traced my finger over my lips, watching until I couldn’t see him anymore. Then I practically ran back to the lounge, looking out the window down toward the square where he’d parked his bike. He came out of the building moments later and walked over to his bike, which, surprisingly, was still there and still had both wheels. I watched him roar out of the car park, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I skipped to my bedroom, tucking the covers around Sasha and falling asleep with a smile on my face for a change.

AS IT TURNS OUT, Carson did get sick. It was splashed all over the papers – how he was sick and his team was worried if he was going to be well enough to race on Saturday. I felt incredibly guilty, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. He was the one who kissed me¸ after all, not the other way around.

Despite the illness, he still did well in his race, coming in first and breaking his own record, upping it to twelve straight wins. When he did his interview after, he barely spoke, and when he did he sounded so husky and raspy it made me wince. He, of course, managed to work the word ‘fluffy’ into the conversation, which made me smile even though he looked a little worse for wear.

I was seriously on easy street moneywise. It turns out Carson had paid me £1,000 to go to the backroom with him all night, so I almost had enough money to completely pay off my overdrafts with the bank, which I had never done in my life.

Everything was going great. I was feeling completely better; I was almost breaking even with money - if you ignored my £3,600 credit card bill - and tomorrow was my nineteenth birthday. Tonight, I was working, but tomorrow I had arranged to go out with Lucie to celebrate. We were going to dinner and then meeting a few of my friends from Uni in a bar. It was going to be fun, and I hadn’t been out in what felt like forever. I didn’t usually have the money to waste on things for myself, but Rory and Lucie had convinced me I needed to treat myself for a change.

I was even looking forward to working tonight because Carson said he’d be here. Because I’d been ill last time I saw him, it had been over a month since I had any physical attention. Just the thought of him was sending little sparks of electricity flowing around my body. I could barely keep still as I watched the door, waiting for him to arrive.