Love to Hate You

Chapter Two - The Night it Happened

Mattie leant against the wall, watching as the DJ cast a miasma of lurid colours across the dancefloor. An elderly woman was dancing with an infant, and two drunk women were dancing with a man who looked as though he might just about have one milligram of blood in his alcohol stream. The intoxicated trio staggered and whooped, and scared the pensioner repeatedly, as the wayward women lunged towards her with jagged, pointy heels; threatening her arthritic hip and sticky-fingered great-grandchild. Then the track changed, and the Baywatch theme tune came on and everyone went nuts for it; no one more so than the bride, Sophie, who had no doubt put in a special request, because she did so love The Hoff.

Mattie rolled her eyes at the revellers, considering it to be a poor show when the only way to encourage people off their backsides was to play the theme tune to a TV show she would have paid good money to avoid watching. She turned her head to the bar, crammed with the small selection of wedding guests who had been gifted with a more discerning musical palate. She made a brief calculation, and decided that it would be quicker for her to leave the function room and head over to the hotel's main bar, where the guests weren't trying to get drunk in order to drown out annoying, catchy music.

The main bar was fairly quiet, and the air-conditioning sent a cooling waft of air over Mattie's hot skin. Her feet ached from having worn evil shoes (the only ones which matched her dress), and spying an extensive cocktail menu – which was not being served in the function room – she sat herself down on a bar stool, kicked off her shoes, and began mulling over the drinks menu.

'Tom Collins, please,' she said, pushing aside the menu and pulling her phone from her bag. She hadn't looked at it all day. There was a tempting little "f" symbol in the corner of her screen, coaxing her to look at the innocuous notification, so she carelessly tapped into it, only to see that Brad – her ex-fiancé – was engaged. And not just engaged, but engaged to girl from the gym she'd found him in bed with one month before their wedding.

'The f*cker!' she whispered, under her breath, just as a tall man glided onto the bar stool one place away from her.

Rafe watched the pretty young girl scowl at her phone and heard her curse under her breath, eliciting a frown from the taciturn man. Whilst she was engrossed in her phone, he let his eyes trail over her body, appreciating toned legs, which didn't go on for quite as long as he would have liked, but were nonetheless enticing; enhanced by the way her dress – which was undoubtedly short to begin with – had risen up to the top of her thighs, where she'd sat down and crossed her legs. He took in her slim waist and full breasts, which weren't flaunted, but rather masked by a slashed neckline which draped across her collar bones. He watched the way her dark brown hair hung long and thick about her face and shoulders; carelessly brushed aside and tucked behind her ear, to reveal a pretty face with flawless skin. She looked young; far too young for him. He turned his face away, and sighed with a deep, weary breath.

He was in a black mood; annoyed that his apartment wasn't ready for him yet, and that he'd have to live in the hotel for another week. He'd felt a flash of interest upon hearing the disgruntled curse, amused to see that he wasn't the only person looking to drown their sorrows, but then he'd looked at the girl, and felt an unusual surge of lust; quelled quickly when he saw that she was so young. His belief that she was too young for him was confirmed when the barman passed her the Tom Collins, and after handing him the money, she muttered to herself, –

'And I don't even get a sodding cherry.'

'Yes, sir?' asked the barman, turning obliviously to Rafe.

'Another red wine and one maraschino cherry, please.' This last, said loudly enough for the woman beside him to hear. Her head snapped round to face him and her eyes widened as her breath hitched, with what Rafe well-knew to be desire.