Loose Ends

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Loose Ends

  Loose Ends Copyright © 2013 Lucy Felthouse Edited by Jessica Bimberg Cover art by Les Byerley

  To the ones sat around that table one lunchtime, several years ago. I wouldn't have been writing this without you.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About the Author

  Also Available from Resplendence Publishing

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Loose Ends

  By Lucy Felthouse

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Loose Ends

  Copyright © 2013 Lucy Felthouse

  Edited by Jessica Bimberg

  Cover art by Les Byerley

  Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349

  Daytona Beach, FL 32118

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-622-6

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic Release: January 2013

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  To the ones sat around that table one lunchtime, several years ago. I wouldn't have been writing this without you.

  Chapter One

  When Kat had called to tell me about the five-year university reunion, my reaction had been “So?”

  “Whaddya mean, so? You have to come! It’ll be a laugh. We’ll be able to find out how everyone’s getting on, what they’ve done with their lives and stuff.”

  “Why do you want to know how everyone’s getting on? You’ve never bothered before, and nor have I. I’ve only ever kept in touch with you and Alex, and there’s a bloody good reason for that.”

  “Stop being such a stick in the mud! Come on, not everyone was that bad. There might be some interesting stories to hear. Somebody could be rich or famous. Or both!”

  I stopped resisting. When Kat had a plan, it was futile to object.

  So there I was, with Kat and Alex, heading into the Student Union bar. I pushed open the double doors. It was as if we’d walked into some kind of time warp. The bar itself looked almost the same, a lick of paint here and there, but nothing major. As for the people, they seemed to have changed even less. Sure, they were better dressed—well, some of them were—and a little older, but everyone was the same.

  The loner was still loitering at the very end of the bar, not engaging with anyone. The geeks had gravitated toward one another. The popular kids were strutting their stuff, their conversation no doubt as mindless and dull as it had always been. Kat, Alex and I were still hanging around together.

  Nobody seemed to have brought partners. I hadn’t actually seen any information regarding the event. My intel had all come from Kat, so maybe partners weren’t invited. Or, perhaps, everyone just wanted to come alone and re-enact their young, free and single days.

  Either way, it was going to be a looong night. I headed for the bar, with Kat and Alex close behind.

  “What’ll it be?” said the barman, obviously a current student earning some extra cash. I suddenly felt old, despite not looking that much older than him.

  “Make mine a vodka and Coke, no ice please.”

  As I turned to the girls to find out what they wanted, I saw the class busybody walking toward us. She smiled and waved at me.

  “Better make that a double,” I amended. Then, under my breath, “I think I’m gonna need it.”

  Soon, I remembered why I hadn’t been up for this in the first place. The busybody was driving me up the wall. My face and neck were starting to hurt from all the smiling and nodding. Jenny, or whatever her name was, was currently on maternity leave from her wonderful job. Her perfect husband had stayed home to look after their delightful children so she could come to the reunion and see how everyone was getting on. Despite this statement, she hadn’t asked any of us a single question. She was too busy talking about herself.

  I zoned out of Jenny’s inane chatter and stared into space. Suddenly, something moved into my eye line and snapped me back into the land of the living. Or should I say someone.

  “Fuck!” I exclaimed, gaining a disapproving look from Mrs. Busybody and puzzled ones from the girls. “He’s fucking here!”

  Jenny, subtle as ever, started spinning her head around to see who I was talking about, all the while muttering to herself about “unnecessary bad language”. She’d always been a stuck-up bitch. Kat and Alex, though, knew exactly who I was talking about. Huddling close to me, they started barraging me with questions:

  “Whereabouts?”

  “How does he look?”

  “Is he still hot?”

  “Has he seen you?”

  “Are you going to talk to him?”

  I held up a hand, silencing them. Then, I brought the other hand, which was clutching my glass of vodka and Coke, up to my mouth. I finished the contents in a couple of gulps. I paused to let the alcohol go down and hopefully settle my nerves then replied, “What is he even doing here?! The last I heard, he was working abroad. Dubai or something.”

  “Well,” said Kat, ever the practical one. “Why don’t you go and ask him?” She gave me a little shove.

  “I will,” I said decisively, resulting in confused looks from both girls. “After I’ve been to the toilet.”

  Before any of them could contradict me, I dashed off, leaving my empty glass on a table. Once in the safety of a locked cubicle, I dropped the toilet seat—which was mercifully clean—and sat, head in my hands. I had not been prepared for this. Not one bit.

  The guy in question had been in most of my classes during my three years at University. He was also “the one who got away”. The “one” so many of us have, still loitering in the back our minds years after the event. In this case, though, his sudden appearance had thrust him so violently to the very front of my mind I was surprised the inside of my cranium didn’t hurt.

  I’d fancied him almost as soon as I’d set eyes on him, during our very first day at Uni. With his shaggy hair, more-lazy-than-designer stubble and cheeky blue eyes, he was most definitely on my radar.

  By happy coincidence, I ended up next to him in the line for induction as we queued to sort out our student IDs, library cards, fee payments and the like. As I stepped up behind him, I checked out his rear view. And boy, was it a view. This guy knew how to wear a pair of jeans. He rose even further in my estimation.

  I stood there, trying to think of a cool and interesting way to get his attention and introduce myself when that luxury was taken away from me. A group of people pushed past the line, and one of them accidentally caught the edge of my bag, propelling it forward so it fell off my shoulder and smacked him in the back of the leg.

  He spun round just as I bent down to retrieve my bag, meaning that as I started to straighten up I came face to face with his crotch. My face grew so hot you could have fried bacon on it. I stood abruptly, wishing the ground would swallow me up.

  “I’m so sorry,” I blurted. “Those people walked past, and one of them knocked my bag off my shoulder.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was an accident. Are you okay?”

  I nodded, aware I probably still resembled a tomato. Sensing my obvious discomfort, he said, “Honestly, it’s fine. I’m Jonathan, by the way.”

  He smil
ed then, revealing dimples in both cheeks, little crinkles around his eyes and not-quite-perfect teeth. In that moment, he went from being on my radar to wiping everyone else off it. I was smitten.

  I smiled back then realized he was expecting me to speak. I struggled to get my brain to engage with my mouth. For some reason, all my blood appeared to have rushed elsewhere. “Hi Jonathan. I’m Lauren.”

  “Nice to meet you. Though you could have just said hello in the first place, rather than throwing things at me, you know.”

  I opened my mouth to give an indignant retort then realized he was struggling to repress a smile. He was teasing me!

  And that was how it started. We spent the entire day doing dull admin stuff together and getting to know one another. It should have been the start of a beautiful relationship, but sadly, it wasn’t. Because, unfortunately, Jonathan had a girlfriend. We continued to be good friends—albeit with lots of hot and heavy flirting and one hell of a spark—but by the time his relationship came to a natural close, I had a boyfriend. And so a vicious circle continued for three long years, dotted with lots of horniness, longing looks and double entendres; until graduation put an end to the whole sorry state of affairs.

  We’d kept in touch sporadically, which is how I knew we’d still never been single at the same time. I’d think about him during my bouts of singledom, wondering what could have been and imagining the hot sex we’d definitely have had. I knew that given the chance, we’d have been perfect for one another. But by the time I heard he was going to work abroad, Jonathan was nothing but occasional fantasy fodder.

  So my surprise when I saw him in the Student Union bar was amplified by the tumult of feelings that suddenly washed over me. Shock, regret, delight and the one reaction he’d always managed to get from me; arousal. As I hadn’t been prepared for any of those emotions, I needed some time out.

  Which was why I was hiding in the Ladies toilets, head in my hands. After a few minutes of wondering what to do, I mentally kicked myself. What on earth was I getting so worked up about? Nothing had ever happened between us; we’d never fallen out or stopped being friends. We’d simply drifted apart. So there was absolutely no reason in the world I shouldn’t just go over and say hi. That was what any normal person would do.

  I resolved to be normal, for a change. I lifted the lid and used the toilet while I was there then came out and washed my hands, splashed some water on my face and touched up my lipstick. A quick spritz of perfume and I was ready to face the world.

  Chapter Two

  Heading back into the bar, I caught sight of Kat and Alex who had managed to get rid of Jenny. They were keeping themselves entertained by chatting up the barman, by the looks of it. I went over to them. I thought I may as well get a drink, since they already had the barman’s attention.

  “Oh, hey,” said Kat as I reached them. “You’re back. Have you been to speak to him already? What happened?”

  “No, I’ve only just come back from the Ladies. I was coming to get another drink.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous!” hissed Alex, surprising us both. She was usually the mild-mannered one. “Go over without a drink, and he’ll offer to buy you one.”

  She had a point. That sorted, the girls flapped their hands at me, urging me to go off and find Jonathan. I made my way farther into the room, but I couldn’t see him. He certainly wasn’t where I’d last spotted him. Glancing back at the girls, I saw they were watching me like hawks. There was no escape; I’d have to keep looking. They would never allow me to go back over there with the excuse that I couldn’t find him. With friends like mine, who needed enemies?

  I scoured the room, which, with its dim lighting, wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Finally, I saw him. He was feeding coins into the jukebox. Alone. Before I had chance to wimp out, I walked over to him. I had a quip on the tip of my tongue, ready.

  I stood behind him and said, “I hope your taste in music has improved in the last five years!”

  He jumped slightly then turned around. He’d obviously recognized my voice straight away because he was grinning.

  “I thought it was you!” he said. “How are you doing? You look great!”

  Before I had chance to respond, he’d wrapped me in a hug. He’d never been a skinny guy, but as I hugged him back and my face pressed against his chest, I could feel how solid he was. There was pure muscle beneath the shirt he wore. A delicious heat started to flicker between my legs.

  I pulled back before I did something stupid, like allow my hands to stray toward his ass. The temptation was definitely there, especially as he still knew how to wear a pair of jeans. Over eight years after I’d first caught sight of that backside, it looked equally good. Possibly better, due to his bulkier frame.

  “I’m good, thanks,” I replied, still checking him out. “You look pretty good yourself!”

  It was true, too. Aside from the still-gorgeous ass and additional body mass, he looked good enough to eat. Working abroad obviously agreed with him. He carried a nice tan, and his hair was shorter. It suited him. I was pleased to note, though, that he still had his trademark facial hair. Ahh, the times I’d fantasized about having it brush over certain parts of my body were too many to count.

  I focused back on his face before my mind wandered too much. Jonathan had obviously seen my slightly dreamy expression, though, as I saw a mischievous twinkle appear in his blue eyes. God, I remembered that look. It inevitably meant trouble.

  “So,” I said brightly, trying desperately to deflect aforementioned trouble, “what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you; last I heard, you were working over in Dubai.”

  “I was,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, I am. I’m home for a little while on holiday, and it was just lucky that it coincided with tonight. Who are you here with?”

  “Very lucky. It’s nice to see you. I’m here with the girls.”

  “Oh, they’re here, too? Awesome. Hey, have you got a drink?”

  “No, I was just going to get one when I spotted you,” I lied.

  “I’ll get you one. What are you having?”

  “Double vodka and Coke, no ice, please.”

  “Some things never change. I’ll be back in a mo’.”

  I watched him walk toward the bar. Or maybe “studied him intently” would be a better turn of phrase. It seemed his ability to bring out the total perv in me hadn’t waned. Turning to the jukebox, in case he turned around and caught me checking him out, I noticed he still had a couple of credits left. Ha, more fool him for leaving me unattended with jukebox credits! I punched in the codes for a couple of my favorite songs and giggled to myself.

  The girls had obviously stopped harassing the poor barman because it didn’t take Jonathan long to come back with our drinks. I accepted mine with a smile and a thank you. I took a gulp of my drink, hoping to calm my still-jangling nerves.

  “So,” I said, not wanting to let the silence last any longer, “how are things out in Dubai? Are you married yet?”

  I spoke the words in a jovial tone, but I was really hoping he wasn’t.

  “God, no! I don’t even have a girlfriend. I move around so much that the lifestyle doesn’t really lend itself to getting to know anybody. I’m not bothered at the moment, though; I enjoy what I do so I just take each day as it comes.”

  “Seems like a sound philosophy to me,” I replied.

  “And what about you? You still with that, um—”

  “No, that finished ages ago. It’s just little old me. To be fair, I’m so busy at the moment that I don’t really have time for a relationship. I just started my own business.”

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a first.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Us being single at the same time.”

  “Hmm.” I didn’t trust myself to give a verbal response mainly because I didn’t know what he was getting at; if anything.

  Jonathan looked a little puzzled, but then, we were sa
ved from a potentially awkward conversation by my taste in music. I’d always been teased—and not just by Jonathan—about the crap I had on my iPod. So, when one of my all-time favorite cheesy songs started blaring out, there was a collective groan.

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Was this your doing?”

  “Your fault. You shouldn’t have left me unattended by the jukebox, especially when you had credits left!”

  Slapping his hand to his forehead theatrically, he said, “I should have known it would be my fault!”

  His next move took me completely by surprise. Downing the rest of his drink and putting his empty glass on the table, he said, “May I have this dance?”

  Given the song was cheesy pop, it wasn’t as romantic as it sounded. Still, I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity—both to dance to my favorite song and to potentially cop a feel—so I finished my own drink and took his proffered hand.

  This was no romantic slow dance; we weren’t even touching. But, after a couple of minutes of bopping around, we both realized how silly we were being and started laughing. I was almost doubled over at one point, and when I looked back up, my mirth instantly disappeared.

  Jonathan was looking at me with such a serious expression that I thought something was wrong.

  “What’s up?”

  He said nothing, grabbing my hands and pulling me to him. My blood was already thundering through my veins as a result of the attempted dancing and subsequent giggling, so it was a wonder that the sudden proximity didn’t make me explode.

  The look in his eyes was earnest, his expression serious. “I still want you, you know.”

  Then, he kissed me. There was no messing around—well, apart from the previous eight years, of course—he just leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. Without a thought about public displays of affection, I slipped my arms around his waist and kissed him back, opening my mouth to admit his tongue.