What Goes Around...

Part Nine

Chapter Nine

 

Today

Freya tried to open an eye, but the throb behind them both stopped that before she could muster any effort. She groaned, after the last time she got drunk with her brother she swore that she'd never drink again, yet here she was, a couple of months later - dying part two.

Her last thought? She racked her brain, then groaned again as Simon's name came to mind. Shit. He was coming to find her. She was scared. The phone call yesterday...she relived the words, "I love you, I'm coming to prove that to you."  She'd snapped back, "what about Martine? What about your wife?"

In his usual smooth way he'd assured her that his marriage was over, it had been the moment he'd first kissed her.

Her rebuke had been there bubbling below the surface, the kiss he'd so criticised. But he filled her with words of promise, hope and future. Words that she had waited a lifetime to hear. He was coming, that much was obvious. She hadn't told him where she was, she still needed time, to process all that he'd said. And it was then that the fear had sunk in.

Her last sensible thought was sitting with Krystal telling her she needed help to become something special, something that she wasn't. Krystal's eyes had lit up as soon as she heard that, and within an hour a dozen outfits stood discarded around the bedroom, and Freya stood, unsteady in heels and self conscious with flesh on display.

Krystal was wide eyed telling her how wonderful she looked but she was anything but comfortable. Taking a deep breath she'd headed out of her friend's home and made for a bar, not realising till she got there that she'd inadvertently selected her rather less than agreeable landlord's bar.

She tried to open her eyes again, but it wasn't easy. Freya tried to move, as she dragged her legs across the mattress she realised she was naked bar the t-shirt that was wrapped around her torso like a bandage. Where was she? It didn't smell like her room. Eyes still closed she reached out and almost cried with relief to find the bed empty. So she hadn't slept with a random stranger. She wanted to cry with relief. Yet that was what you went out with the intention of doing.

Rolling on her side she opened an eye and spotted a glass of water and a couple of pain meds on the bedside table, then across the room slowly coming into focus was her brother's guitar in the corner. She was in her brother's bedroom. That was a relief.

Until she realised the only link between the bar and this house.

Mitchell Cooper.

Suddenly she had vague memories of him arriving, shouting at her, her wanting to smack him. She dreaded what she had said, what she'd done. Taking a huge deep breath she dragged herself into sitting. It was painful, everywhere. But she had to escape, the thought of the all knowing patronising Mitchell Cooper standing in her way filled her with dread.

The t-shirt she was wearing barely covered her thighs, but one glance at the fragments of clothing she'd worn the previous night...where the hell had that courage come from? If it was courage, stupidity more like. Then she thought about Simon, finding her and she knew that all this, everything was fake. She wasn't a vixen or a siren, she wasn't sexy, he as used to more, SO much more, and she definitely couldn't be what Simon wanted or needed.

The reality was painful, and it hurt...like hell.