11
Hope
IknockonFinn'sdoor and wait. One…two…three seconds.
"Don't make me use my key!" I shout.
I hear footsteps on the other side of the door and smile. When the door swings open, I'm met with Finn's scowling face. "It's not your key,” he says as I shoulder past him.
"You know, you're like abrokenrecord." I whip around just as his eyes snap up from my arse—granted, I am wearing a short skirt.Icock a brow and hisglareintensifies. He's like a gnarly old bear and I just love poking him with a big old stick.
I brush a piece of lint from the corner of his shirt. "Bingo."
"What?"
"We are going to Bingo,Finnley. Get dressed. Mrs Arnold likes a man who knows how to dress."
"I'm not going to Bingo."
I glower at him and stab my finger into his chest."I have fed your scrawny arse for nearlytwo weeks. Without me, all this..." I wave my hand at his body. His hard, muscular, very large body. "...would have gone to shit.So—"
"I didn't ask you to do that."
"Well, Ididn't seeyou turning it down. So, Poppy has Patrick,Dorisis busy tonight,and I want to play Bingo. You are coming with me. Don'tworry, you won't die if you venture outside of yourflator that bloody pub." He presses his lips together. "I swear to god, I will never feed you again,Finnley. You need to leave this flat and I need a bingo buddy."
His lips curl ever so slightly in a ghost of a smile. "A bingo buddy? What are you, eighty?"
"I'm just cultured,Finn. It's fun. You know, the ability to enjoy one's self..." I grab his arm and try to shove him towards the bedroom,but moving him is like trying to move a brick wall. "Go, get changed."
"I'm not getting changed." His brows pull together again.
"Careful, the wind will change direction..." I say on a smirk before walking out of his apartment, half expecting him to slam the door. He follows me and thrusts a helmet into my hands, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.
"I am not riding your fucking bike," I say, shoving the helmet back at him.
"No bike, no bingo."
"I'm wearing a skirt, Finn!"
His eyes drop to my thighs. "Your choice."
"You don't know where the bingo hall is," I say, placing my hands on my hips.
"Hope, you can't miss the huge fucking sign next to the cinema that says:BINGO." He shoves the helmet towards me.
"Oh my god." I snatch the helmet from him. "When I'm going down the road with myvagout and the cops pull us over, I'll be sure to tell them why."
Iturnand stomp my way downstairs, Finn chuckling behind me. When I open the door and step outside, his black crotch rocket is parked at the curb. Huffing, I shove the helmet and walk straight to the bike, not hesitating before I throw my leg over the seat. Finn’s making his way across the yard and I fold myarmsover my chest, smirking underneath the helmet.He stopsjust shortof the bike anddrags his hand throughhishair.Damn him withhis broodingways andhismysteriouslysexy hair flick going on.Hiseyesglide over the lengthof mybareleg. Good,let him seejusthowmuchisgoing to be on show.
He pulls his helmet on, and I can’t help but to notice the way his shirt lifts with the movement. His tan skin and perfect abs are on full display for the briefest of moments.Hemay bemoody, but he sure is pretty.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me when he climbs on and I slide my arms around his waist, pressing my palms to his hard stomach. If he objects, he doesn't say so. He revs the throttle. The engine snarls and crackles, the seat vibrating beneath me. Without warning, we launch forward. The tires squeal and the bike wobbles. I close my eyes and bury my face into Finn’s back as the cool wind whips around me. These things are fucking ludicrous. He goes faster and I dig my nails into his back, bunching his shirt inside my sweat-slicked palms.
Fifteen minutes later and we pull up in front of the bingo hall. Finn cuts the engine and climbs off, standing next to the bike. "Close your eyes,” I say as I pull my helmet off. “You'll see myvag." He shakes his head and I huff.He steps close to me and places his big hands on my waist. "What are you doing?" I say,holding my handoutasif toshieldme from him. He lifts me and I press my thighs together as he pulls me from the bike. My hands instinctively land on his shoulders before he lowers me to the ground. The second my feet touchthe pavement,I step back, trying fruitlessly to yank my skirt downskirt before Istraightenand point at him.
"Smooth,Finnley. Smooth."
He sighs, his expression completely blank. I know his game. I glare at him before hooking my handbag over my shoulder and walking straight through the front doors of the bingo hall.
