Read Online I Came to Find a Girl by Jaq Hazell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jaq Hazell
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the far side of the bar. And when he saw me look over he stood up and waved. God he’s beautiful – can he really like me?
“You’re in there,” Kelly nudged.
And so it was that within a few hours he was walking me home, drinking my coffee, easing me back on my bed, gently pushing my hair away from my face as if he couldn’t see enough. Can I do this?
He kissed my neck, my shoulder, and right breast, as his hand slid behind the waistband of my jeans. I could barely breathe let alone speak. I had wanted this. I had wanted him. I liked him. Only, it was as if I were outside myself, like watching a soap opera sex scene that went on and on to underline the fact two characters are an item. I moved my hips and feigned desire, kissed, licked, nibbled and faintly scratched – all the while willing him to come so it would stop.
He did stop and he lay still, still inside me. I wanted him off. I curled myself away from him, only for him to follow me across the bed, kissing the back of my neck. What made me think I could cope with a stranger in my bed?
How did I manage that? I asked myself the next morning. I’d been inebriated of course. My head hurt. I need to stop drinking so much. It’s not helping . He lay there filling my single bed, his renaissance profile highlighted by a shaft of light eking through a crack in the curtains. I was staring and he must have sensed it.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, though I didn’t really – I just wanted him out.
He shook a little as he got up, his lean, defined torso rock god material. “Can you sing?” I asked.
“No. Why?” He bent down to sort the clothes he’d dumped by my bedside. I gave him only moments to dress – didn’t offer coffee, didn’t offer breakfast.
“I’ve got to go this way,” I said, after leading him downstairs and out the front door onto the pavement. “What about you?” He pointed in the opposite direction and smiled, his face a little confused. I don’t think any girl had ever turfed him out before.
Nine
It was just like any other Sunday, the day I heard. I’d had a hangover all day and was desperate for food. I checked my kitchen cupboard. “Dried pasta and tuna – I can’t believe that’s all I’ve got,” I said to Kelly.
“Nightmare,” she said, without looking up from her copy of Vogue .
“Do you think Vogue ’s advertisers realise it’s bought by penniless students?”
Kelly shrugged. “I’m going downstairs.”
I flicked through the Student Cookbook. There had to be something I could make with these few ingredients. Tuna bake was the best option, but I’d need some Campbell’s Condensed Mushroom Soup.
I found the few coins I had left and walked down the road, glancing up at the three-storey terraces. Are any of the windows watching? It felt like they were.
On the wall at the crossroads sat a young girl – one I hadn’t seen before – in a crop top, short skirt, bare legs and trainers. Her hair was in gelled ringlets and her hands tight in her pockets. She looked fed up. No one was about. Punters would surely be home with their families eating Sunday roasts. And besides, hadn’t she heard about Loretta and the other woman? She shouldn’t be out. What is she doing?
Around the next corner, I entered the tiny over-filled shop. There were only two aisles, so I soon located a dusty tin of soup. It was too dark to see a Use-By date but I guessed it would be okay. The shopkeeper checked my carefully counted out coins and nodded as his wife stood silently by in her sari and thick cardigan.
“Hey, pretty girl,” a guy shouted from a third-floor window in the house next to the shop. He always said something or else he just went ‘psst’. I kept walking. I mean, did he really think he could pull from up there like a male Rapunzel?
Back round the corner, girl-on-the-wall had gone. I hope she’s safe. Please let her be safe .
Mix the condensed mushroom soup with the pasta, tuna and sweetcorn, place in an
“You’re in there,” Kelly nudged.
And so it was that within a few hours he was walking me home, drinking my coffee, easing me back on my bed, gently pushing my hair away from my face as if he couldn’t see enough. Can I do this?
He kissed my neck, my shoulder, and right breast, as his hand slid behind the waistband of my jeans. I could barely breathe let alone speak. I had wanted this. I had wanted him. I liked him. Only, it was as if I were outside myself, like watching a soap opera sex scene that went on and on to underline the fact two characters are an item. I moved my hips and feigned desire, kissed, licked, nibbled and faintly scratched – all the while willing him to come so it would stop.
He did stop and he lay still, still inside me. I wanted him off. I curled myself away from him, only for him to follow me across the bed, kissing the back of my neck. What made me think I could cope with a stranger in my bed?
How did I manage that? I asked myself the next morning. I’d been inebriated of course. My head hurt. I need to stop drinking so much. It’s not helping . He lay there filling my single bed, his renaissance profile highlighted by a shaft of light eking through a crack in the curtains. I was staring and he must have sensed it.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, though I didn’t really – I just wanted him out.
He shook a little as he got up, his lean, defined torso rock god material. “Can you sing?” I asked.
“No. Why?” He bent down to sort the clothes he’d dumped by my bedside. I gave him only moments to dress – didn’t offer coffee, didn’t offer breakfast.
“I’ve got to go this way,” I said, after leading him downstairs and out the front door onto the pavement. “What about you?” He pointed in the opposite direction and smiled, his face a little confused. I don’t think any girl had ever turfed him out before.
Nine
It was just like any other Sunday, the day I heard. I’d had a hangover all day and was desperate for food. I checked my kitchen cupboard. “Dried pasta and tuna – I can’t believe that’s all I’ve got,” I said to Kelly.
“Nightmare,” she said, without looking up from her copy of Vogue .
“Do you think Vogue ’s advertisers realise it’s bought by penniless students?”
Kelly shrugged. “I’m going downstairs.”
I flicked through the Student Cookbook. There had to be something I could make with these few ingredients. Tuna bake was the best option, but I’d need some Campbell’s Condensed Mushroom Soup.
I found the few coins I had left and walked down the road, glancing up at the three-storey terraces. Are any of the windows watching? It felt like they were.
On the wall at the crossroads sat a young girl – one I hadn’t seen before – in a crop top, short skirt, bare legs and trainers. Her hair was in gelled ringlets and her hands tight in her pockets. She looked fed up. No one was about. Punters would surely be home with their families eating Sunday roasts. And besides, hadn’t she heard about Loretta and the other woman? She shouldn’t be out. What is she doing?
Around the next corner, I entered the tiny over-filled shop. There were only two aisles, so I soon located a dusty tin of soup. It was too dark to see a Use-By date but I guessed it would be okay. The shopkeeper checked my carefully counted out coins and nodded as his wife stood silently by in her sari and thick cardigan.
“Hey, pretty girl,” a guy shouted from a third-floor window in the house next to the shop. He always said something or else he just went ‘psst’. I kept walking. I mean, did he really think he could pull from up there like a male Rapunzel?
Back round the corner, girl-on-the-wall had gone. I hope she’s safe. Please let her be safe .
Mix the condensed mushroom soup with the pasta, tuna and sweetcorn, place in an
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