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[bookwriter02-blog]

Chapter two

The blaring sound of the alarm jolted you awake, the coldness of the room finally settling in. It was a bleak Friday morning and you were up at the crack of dawn to start dressing up for work. Through a series of yawns, and half asked attempts to rub your eyes awake, you were still stumbling your way to your bathroom. The reflection of you mirror confirming that alcohol before bed was a bad idea, your hair dancing in all direction with makeup from the previous day still smudged on your face. You quickly dealt with your face and prepared yourself for the day ahead. It wasn’t until you were picking up your favourite jumper to wear that the activity of the previous night flashed like neon lights in your mind. “Shit,” you screeched, “shit, shit, shit.” “Oh god please tell me I didn’t do that, no,no,no,” You continued as you catapulted into your bed looking for the phone. The screen confirming what you were dreading. You did message him, otherwise there wouldn’t be one message with three short words looking straight at you.

Can we talk?

How three simple words had the power to hypnotise you and make you feel as if you were falling down a skyscraper you would never understand.

Can we talk?

Your phone was shaking from the vibrations of your hands while you read the same question over and over again. What is there to talk about? You’ve said everything you needed to say and yet he still managed to leave, your internal monologue always reminded you.

You’re bruised and battered heart grasped for air as if it was finally being fed. It still beat for him and the bitter sweet feeling of missing him was becoming comforting.

Can we talk?

Talking to him, being in his presence was home. You wanted nothing more than to sit across him and take in every little word that falls out off him. You wanted him, you needed home.

Can we talk?

No,no,no. You’ve promised yourself that you wouldn’t do this, you were strong and you knew that break ups happened all the time. Talking to him would only bring up the pain of unhealed wounds.

You quickly deleted the conversation before turning your phone off completely and leaving for a long day of work.

It wasn’t until a few minutes of entering your train back home that you turned your phone on. Three messages greeted you, all from Tasha, your best friend. The first two wishing you a Happy Birthday and telling you how special you were to her. It was the last one that rained on your parade of staying in, watching a movie and sleeping early on your special day.

YOU ARE COMING OUT TODAY!!! I’VE BOOKED A TABLE FOR US AT LAS CHICAS AND WE’LL BE TURNING UP UNTIL THE EARLY HOURS OF TOMORROW.

The excitement of Tasha jumping out of your phone.

Tasha I don’t feel very well, rain-check?

You replied, hoping that for once, she just lets it go and allows you to be miserable.

NOPE!!! table booked and friends invited so get your arse over here by 10 you beautiful creature!!

The phone binged before you even had a chance to put it down.

With an inhale, you knew exactly what you had to do, suck it up and go because you knew if Tash had a plan Tash would most definitely make it happen. You sighed as you sent one last text.

And what do I wear? I’ve got nothing special for tonight.

Within minutes, she replied back.

Wear that black dress that gives you the bum to die for.

You snickered as you read the message, knowing full well that no dress would give you this imaginary bum.

Despite your reservation, you felt excited, it was nice to do something to celebrate that you were turning the dreaded 25. You were going to forget about Dele and become remnants of your past self.

You quickly went home to start getting ready, showering first then moving on to the most laborious part; the make up. As you settled in your comfy dresser, you spread all of your make up in front of you as you had no idea what look you were going for. You picked up your primer, only to hear the vibration of your phone next to you. You hear palpitated when you saw the caller ID. Dele.

Why was he calling? You asked yourself, he probably thinks you didn’t receive his message you thought.

With a slight hesitation and a heavy heart, you pick up your phone to answer.

You don’t say hallo, you wanted to but your mouth was refusing.

You breathed down waiting for him to meet you half way, goodness boy speak you thought.

“Happy birthday,” He finally uttered, with such a low voice you thought he was saying it in his sleep.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there to celebrate you,” he said, sounding as if he was calling a bereaved person.

You scoffed at his statement. He’s sorry? Was that just a thing people say to avoid awkwardness you thought to yourself.

“It’s fine, it would be weird if you did turn up,” you replied with a weird chuckle, racking your brain to think of something humorous to cut this tension.

Think stupid brain you thought, while staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Besides… you being there would probably ruin my chances of pulling,” you said, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.

“Pulling huh?“He asked, "And how do you hope to do that, by staring at a boy from across the room until he telepathically understands that you want him?” he quipped back. Just by the way he said it, you knew he was grinning like a little boy at the end of the line.

You started smiling too, his voice taking you back to memory lane of better times. Easier days.

“Can I ask you a question?” you enquired, so fast it took your brain sometime to realise what you were doing.

“Why her?” you continued, ’ “I mean I get it, she’s beautiful but really Dele? What happened to I want substance and somebody who understands me? Does she really fulfill you?” you finally breathed out as if you were holding your breath without being aware. “Maddy,” he said with a sigh, “ I want us to be friends, I’ve tried so hard in our relationship, I really did. Heck we both did but it wasn’t meant to be,” he stated as a matter of fact. Your heart plummeted by the sound of his finality. It was really over and he practically spelt it out for you this time.

“Ok,” you state before turning the call off quickly.

Over.over.over.

The adrenaline fuelled high coming crashing down, forcing you to rethink about going out tonight.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to hype yourself up for the night ahead. Once your black dress was on, you headed outside to catch your uber. You practiced your happy face ready to greet your friends as you enter the club. As the Uber sped through the towering lights of the city, you took a deep breath trying to recompose yourself and cling on to the fun parts of Maddy.

Over.over.over.

With the clicks of your heels echoing as you walked, you entered the club.

“Maddy,Maddy!” you heard the rippling of your name coming from the back of the club. You paced over to the sound of your name to find a dozen of your friends ready to start the party. The place seeming much busier than whenever you’d come down with Dele.

With genuine excitement, you began hugging everyone thanking them for coming.

“How on earth did you get a table here Tash! You’re crazy you know that!” you stated as you hugged your last and best friend.

“Only the best for my bestie,” she replied back. “ Although I should worn you now, Both Jesse Lingard and Marcus Rashford are also here,” She stated as a matter of fact.

“Come on, you need to get waisted,” she said while grabbing your hand and leading you to the bar.

“Shots please,"Tasha requested from the bartender. "And two vodka on the rocks’,” she finished ordering. “Tasha,” you remarked, shaking your head and smiling as you said it, “I actually intend on trying to remember my birthday for once.”

“Pisht…remembering is for losers,” she stated, giving you a shot to drink. And another and another. Your happiness was finally radiating as one of your favourite songs came out of the DJ booth.

Before you knew it, you were dancing as if you were the only person in the room, swaying to the melodic sound of drake. You felt on top of cloud nine as you began to jump in synchronisation with the rest of the dancer. As the song stopped, You took a step back ready to leave the dance floor only to bump into somebody behind you. You had to stop yourself from falling by grabbing on to the person for dear life. As you regained your composure, you were impressed by how sturdy their physique was while leaning on. You looked, the brown eyes of one his friends meeting you.

“Marcus,” you said happily stretching your arm for an embrace. He reciprocated looking a little confused at your giddy attitude.

“Everything ok?” he asked unsure what to reply if your answer was no.

“Yes of course,” you replied, holding his hand to drag him to a quieter area of the club. Once you realised there was none, you started heading for the exit.

“Come with me,” you gestured, unsure what you were actually going to talk about once you get outside. The cold breeze was the first thing that hit you as you stepped out to the winter air of London.

“Heard it’s your birthday,"he exclaimed. "If I’d known you’d be here, I would’ve brought you a present,” he continued.

You replied with a smile,Crossing your arms for some warmth.

“You don’t have to say those things Marcus,” you stated, still with a smile on your face.

“ I know your Dele’s close friend, it’s okay I really wasn’t expecting us to remain the same,” you finally said.

“ I’m sorry about how that ended by the way, everyone was on your side, believe me Dele got a right telling off by everyone once we found out.” He tilted, resting his body on the brick wall behind him.

“Besides,” he continued, without looking up at you, “maybe you weren’t destined to be with him, maybe there’s been someone else pinning for your love this entire time.”

You know where this was going, because this wasn’t the first time Marcus and you got a little drunk. This wasn’t the first time words unsaid were splattered on the ground like pain. This wasn’t the first time you didn’t look at you he expressed his feelings. But this was the first time you wanted to hear more. “Take me home?” You asked, still not looking at him.

You walked in silence through the parking lot and in silence until you were firmly parked in front of your flat. When he made the final signal that the ride was over, he hugged you, holding you tightly against him, one that could still be considered friendly, but only just. When you broke apart, your face was flushed, your eyes shining.

“I hope it won’t be another year before we see each other again.”

Instead of answering, you reached for him, putting your small, warm hand on the back of his neck, lifting your lips to his. You kissed, first lightly, then more urgently, his tongue in your mouth, your hips tilted against his, your breasts against his chest, your whole body sending a message that was undeniable.

“Want to come up?” You asked.

Without a word, he climbed out the drivers seat, smiling at you, saying, “Yes.”

As soon as your front door was shut you started kissing again. Your tongue fluttered against his, and his hands were deep in the softness of your hair. He pulled you against him, thinking that he’d never get you close enough, that if he could fold you inside of him, like a mother tucking a baby into her coat, he’d do it. He’d keep you warm, he’d keep you safe, he’d keep you with him, always.

Taking your hand, Marcus led you to your bedroom. You nibbled at his chin, his ear, touching his face with your fingertips, sighing, whispering, “You feel so good”.

He felt you slip down the bed. He sighed, eyes shut, thinking about how unbelievably good it felt.

He opened his eyes and looked down to you also had your and saw that eyes open, locked. He was smirking now.

“What?” You asked.

“Shh,” he said, pulling you up so they were face-to-face again. He slid his hands between your legs, positioning his fingers and thumb. He nuzzled against you, his lips on your neck, nibbling and kissing his way up to your earlobe, where you’ve always been ticklish. “Ooh,” you whispered. “Ooh! Oh, oh, oh,” you sighed, as he worked his fingers against the slick seam … and then you forgot to pose, forgot about trying to look good, and lost yourself inside your own pleasure. Marcus watched you squeeze your eyes shut as you clamped your thighs against his wrist and snapped your hips up, once, twice, three times before you froze, all the muscles in your thighs and belly and bottom tense and quivering, and he felt you contract against his fingers.

Before you could recover, he’d rolled you onto your back and slipped inside you. After the first thrust he had to hold still, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would explode. He wanted you to come at least once more, with him, and he didn’t want you to tease him.

He wanted it to be good tonight. He wanted everything to be perfect.

He reached down and stroked your cheek, then your hair. “Oh, God,” you whispered, swiveling your hips in a way you knew would send him right over the edge. “Oh, wait. Do you have a condom?” You whispered.

He opened his nightstand drawer and ripped open a Trojan. You watched, frowning. “Tell me they sell those as singles,” you said.

He kissed you, smiling as if he pleased that you was jealous, thinking that he’d tell you anything you wanted to hear, and, finally, he slipped inside you again. You gasped and shut your eyes, and then neither of you spoke. You had one hand on his shoulder, the other slowly stroking his back, from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine.

“You feel so good,” you whispered … and then Marcus couldn’t hold back any longer. He plunged inside you, deep into that maddening clutch, that heat. You moaned, your hands locked onto his shoulders, your breath against his face, your voice in his ear, urging him on.

“Oh, baby,” he gasped as you put your lips against his ear, whispering his name over and over, like a chant, or a song, or a prayer.

If there was going to be awkwardness, it would come when you’d finished; when you looked down and saw that he was still wearing his socks and your still had your panties hooked around one ankle. There would be the condom to dispose of, the strangeness of him in your bed. But as soon as you were done, You rolled into his arms, curling yourself against his chest, and said, “I missed you!” in the friendly, happily surprised voice of a woman who’d bumped into an old best friend at the supermarket. With your hands balled into fists, you punched lightly at his chest, like it was his fault you’d been apart.

“I missed you, too,” Marcus said . He’d been smiling for so long he was sure that his face would ache in the morning. “Happy birthday”. He finally said, resting his lips on the temple of your head.

➡️ damnnn!! A plot twist if I every saw one. This was very hottt, you’re a great writer

[bookwriter02-blog]

Unmade Plans.

With a long sigh and heavy eyes you open the door which holds so much memories inside. People have been telling you it gets much easier than this, friends have been reassuring you that with time, your heart will beat and it will beat much stronger next time. But yet you haven't felt any of the magic this so called time brings. You've cried yourself to sleep for what felt like eternity and you've looked for any remnants of news, pictures to show that he was struggling the same way. You felt horrible for feeling that way, for constantly wishing that it wasn't just you who was struggling to move on, that it wasn't just you who believed that the love you shared ran so deep that it would scare even the strongest of believers. So it was no surprise that as you slung yourself lazily onto the worn out grey couch that took way too much space in your already small living area, the first thing your thumb did was the only thing it had mastered to do. Your bright lit phone illuminating the room sprung up many results under what had long become your favourite name. Your eyes scanned the images for any new ones of that dashing smile your soul craved for. You found one you haven't seen, a picture of him in his training ground, grinning ear to ear as he nutmegged one of his team mates. You found yourself finally letting a breath out, as if you were anticipating seeing the worst and the fact that being in training was reassuring enough that he was keeping himself occupied. Gosh you wanted him to be happy, it was just sad it could never be with you. 'Dele, the superstar everyone is talking about', read the article you found next. It gave you so much pride to know that everyone was appreciating the incredible talent he is. The article provided no new details of his career that you weren't aware of. Or so you thought until you stumbled on to the last paragraph, a paragraph which felt like you dropped into a gaping hole into despair. 'Dele now resides in London, sharing a comfortable 5 bedroom house with his supermodel girlfriend who, as he has been telling all his friends, is the one'. The thumping beat of your heart was becoming more alive, more alert as you forced your mind to read along with your eyes. Dele. Girlfriend. The one. And it wasn't you. For that minute you sat in silence hoping to any God that was listing to erase that memory, it couldn't have been real, you only imagined it. Dele wouldn't have moved on that quickly, would he? And surely not with a supermodel, that's the kind of footballers you would joke about into early hours with him in your small, dingy flat watching any comedy special you would find on Netflix. Memories of your sweet time with your sweet boy was flooding you now, begging to be let in and share your mind to keep you company. You needed a distraction, you knew bringing up memories would lead you crying a river in your bed so you ran to the most appealing thing you kept in your house. The Alcohol. The burning sensation finally hit your throat as you left your kitchen to run yourself a bath. Your mind not in tune with your legs as it went on auto pilot. Memories of your time together were no longer asking for permission to enter your mind, it was inviting itself in and making tea in your space. His smile, his heart, his confidence and his determination all being plastered in your head as if he had never left at all. As if the heart break had never occurred, as if the world you imagined, invested in did not disappear in the space of a few hours. As if the family growing inside of you was just that, inside of you. As the warm bath enveloped you into a comforting hug, one memory would not leave your mind. He was in the kitchen checking for the fifth time that there definitely was no spider in your kitchen. And reassuring you that yes he did just take it outside and not kill it, even though you both knew that he most definitely would have just thrown it in the bin. 'Babes, I promise you that there's nothing in there', he said one final time, appearing on the doorway to the living room with two mugs of hot steaming tea. 'Now how about we finish this last episode of friends and I'll stay just to reassure you that no spiders will come on your bed', he finished with a cheeky grin. He slumped down to the sofas, swapping the tv remote for your cup. You gave him a leg squeeze as a thank you for bringing you tea. 'I'll happily watch some friends with you', you quipped back, scooting over to close the distance between each other. 'Ohh, love this episode', he remarked as he finally settled on what to watch and put the remote down and put his arm around you. 'I love the smell of you', you stated as you snuggled deeper into your love. You looked up to him to see what he was doing only to meet his eyes smiling down at you, his grin wider than you've ever seen. 'You say that now', he starts 'but would you feel the same way when I'm a pensioner, unable to wipe the dribble off my own mouth?', he question with a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow. You met him with the same raised eyebrow as you straightened up to reply but He wouldn't let you answer and he continued talking, 'Or when I've just run out of the pitch after running for god knows how long and I open up for a hug'? he looked on, as if finally giving you the green light to reply. You've sat cross legged now facing him, really enjoying this line of questioning. Of course both of you never took it seriously, but it always made you giddy when he asked things like this, talking about your future because there was nothing more you would like then to spend the rest of your life with him. Your hands rested perfect on his chin, caressing his beautifully sculpted face. 'Well mister, believe it or not', you began giving him the same smile his been gracing you with all evening, 'you have nothing to be scared about, I will just hold my nose and imagine the smell of you in this moment'. You stated, giving him a small peck on the lips to reassure him. 'Besides', you continue, as you go back to the comfier position of under his arms, legs intertwined 'You'd probably be with a hot model, reminiscing about the glory days of football while she rolls her eyes by the time the drolling happens, so nothing to worry about babes', you say, tapping his thigh. 'Would never happen, unless the hot model is you' he quips back in the most serious tone so far this evening. He stands up, makes a turn for the kitchen but stops before entering, and looks back to stare at you. ' you know I would hate it that you think I would be like those footballers, who are only about the appearance and just want some arm candy to show off to their friends' he starts, and by the glint of his eye, you know he's ready to make a grand speech. 'We've been dating for over two years and not once have I ever even thought about what it would be like to be with someone else, despite the times girls attempt to try something. Girls jump at the prospect of being in my bed but I don't bat an eyelash, you know why?' He asked, ' it's not because I'm scared of what you'll do when you find out, but because just imaging you dropping ice cream on your two-day old shirt and still licking it off makes me more giddy and in love than any excitement of a good looking girl could ever do. you're the one, I just know it so please drop this'. He leaves his space near the kitchen and moves closer, ready to kiss you, 'I'm completely and devastatingly in love with you.' He finishes before closing the gap and kissing you. Your lips melting into his as you connect. The once hot and aromatic bath was now becoming stale and cold, finally reminding you of your reality. You quickly wrap yourself in a towel and sprinted into the bedroom to avoid your cold surroundings. The bed you once shared ready to engulf you in your sleep. Once you pyjamas are on, you put an alarm on your phone, reminding yourself of the early start you have for work in the morning. You almost put it on top of your bed side, almost. But your brain has a much better Idea on how to keep you occupied. Your fingers find the number you've attempted to avoid all these weeks, the name that feels so familiar to you. You open up the empty WhatsApp chat between the two of you, almost as if there's no history shared. You begin drafting a message, a nasty message wishing him the absolute worst and hoping he's injured for his next game. You shake your head while you clear out the message, you wonder what has got into you, you're hardly ever this angry and when you are it's always at how you've handled the situation and never at him alone. And you remember the drink you've taken before the shower, the new found confidence compelling you to type out a second draft that you know you'll regret come morning. So you finally bat an eyelash for one your fans huh? Sent. No return. Your heart beating fast at breaking the one rule that was holding you upright this time of heart break. No contact with him, one which your girlfriends have promised will help if you follow and you have been avoiding it, you have been so good for 5 weeks and six days. But the news broke you and you wanted him to know that you knew. You drifted of to sleep praying that he had changed his number. Only if to safe face.