Page 8 of Blindsided
I spot the ladies huddled around a giant charcuterie spread in the kitchen and sigh with relief when I see that they seem to be acting normally for the most part. First, I see Belle and Indie chatting to each other. The two of them are brilliant surgeons and best friends who ended up marrying the twin Harris Brothers, Tanner and Camden. Then there’s the blond bombshell Harris sister, Vi, who’s the matriarch of the whole family. She’s standing by her husband, Hayden, and they are busy talking with Sloan. Then there’s my dear friend, Allie, who rushes over as soon as she spots Mac and me standing awkwardly in the entryway.
“Oh my freaking God, you look so hot!” she states, pushing past Leslie to get out of the kitchen. “Is this Leslie’s design?”
“Damn right it is!” Leslie sings with her matching muddled American accent. Both Allie and Leslie have spent part of their lives in America, so their tones have a unique sound to them. Leslie eyes me up and down. “Good God almighty, you look even hotter than you did at the shop yesterday! I told you this dress would be perfect for you. Didn’t I tell her, Sloan?”
Sloan smiles from the kitchen, and calls over, “You told her.”
I blush under their praise and feel weird with Mac standing beside me to hear all of it. I make a joke to deflect. “Well, Leslie, you’re the designer, so you’re really complimenting yourself more than you are me.”
“Damn right I am,” Leslie replies with a smirk and takes a sip of her drink.
Allie nods appreciatively. “It’s about time you let them play dress up with you, Freya.”
Mac is still hovering near me like a protective watchdog, so I wave my hand at him. “I’m fine, Mac. Go on and play with your friends.”
He shoots me a wink and then makes his way towards the boys in the living room.
Leslie slinks her arm around my waist. “I should design all your clothes.”
“Like you have the time!” I retort with a huff. Leslie and Sloan are both so swamped with custom order requests that we’ve had to turn some away. “Who has Marisa tonight?” I ask, referring to Leslie’s four-year-old daughter.
“She’s with Theo’s parents in Essex for the weekend. Theo and I haven’t had a weekend off in ages, so this is cause for copious amounts of alcohol consumption. They have Vi and Hayden’s daughter too, so the girls are running them ragged, I’m sure,” she says with a laugh. As Theo and Hayden are brothers, their two daughters are cousins. This group is seriously an interconnected web of not quite related connections.
Suddenly, Leslie’s eyes go wide. “Good grief! You don’t have a drink in your hand. Tisn’t right, tisn’t fair, tisn’t proper!”
Leslie scurries back towards the kitchen, and Allie gives me a rueful smile. “She’s quoting Poldark to the Cornish girl. In case you didn’t know she’s tipsy, you do now.”
I exhale happily as Sloan approaches and gives me a hug. “You look gorgeous, Freya. Like always.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Mac was yelling at me the whole time I was getting ready because I was taking too long picking out my bag and shoes. I have way too many gorgeous options, I’m afraid. What can I say? Accessories always fit.”
Sloan touches my soft red curls appreciatively. “You two really go at each other.”
“That’s what I keep saying,” Allie chimes in with a sneaky smirk.
“Don’t start,” I reply with a huff. “We’re just mates.”
Sloan mock zips her lips. I can tell she wants to say more, but she won’t. Sloan’s good like that. She always just lets me be me. She’s really the first friend I ever had whom I truly felt understood by. And I loved the little family I stumbled into with her and her daughter back in Manchester.
Leslie emerges with four red and orange mixed cocktails on a tray. She thrusts one into my hand, and I stare down at it dubiously. “I regret to inform you that hard alcohol and I do not mix.”
Leslie waves me off. “They’re tequila sunrises. It’s the drink of all the Harris wives. You won’t taste a drop of the alcohol, I swear.”
We clink glasses, and I take a sip of what tastes like orange juice with cherry syrup. My eyes go wide. “These could be dangerous.”
The rules of the gameNever Have I Everare simple. You sit in a large circle and take turns saying statements about things you have never done before. If anyone in the group has done it, they must take a drink. Sounds like a straightforward game. A bit strange for grown-ups to play, but the host of the evening is a big man-child, so I guess that’s the excuse.
And because a man named Santino—who is apparently the Bethnal Green F.C. team lawyer—walked into Tanner and Belle’s flat three hours ago and oddly attached himself to my side, I must use all of my strength not to vomit out words in nonsensical order. Perhaps if I focus on being really good at the game, I won’t notice the fact that we’re seated right next to each other and our legs keep touching, or the fact that his eyes keep glancing down at my cleavage.
One little problem, though.
Never Have I Everis a game that is entirely about The Sex.
And considering I’ve never had The Sex, I realise with ominous regret that I am in very big trouble.
There are a number of reasons why I am a twenty-nine-year-old virgin. One of which is because my Nanna Dot used to call my virginity my “maiden tag”, and she mentioned something biological about a skin flap and searing pain. The entire conversation horrified me so much, I never dreamt of opening my legs as a teen.
As I got older, I realised that my nanna may have embellished a bit, but my experiences with men were so bleddy awful, I never managed to get the job done. In fact, the one person I got the closest with was my design school boyfriend who waited until we were lying naked on his dorm room floor to tell me he was gay. It was so horrifying that I still cringe when I think back to my awkward response.
