Samantha Young: Fall From India Place

“She’s nuts.” Suzanne made a face. “But look at who I’m talking to. Teachers. Who on earth in their right mind would decide to become a teacher? Oh” – her eyes widened at something over my shoulder – “he’s yummy.”

Michaela and I shared a knowing look and I turned to stare as inconspicuously as possible at whoever had caught Suzanne’s eye.

“And she’s off!” Michaela giggled, pulling my gaze away from the tall guy with the bulging biceps who was exactly Suzanne’s type, to watch her cross the bar with an exaggerated swing to her slim hips. “I don’t know how she can do this every other weekend. A different guy.”

Suzanne was way into the double digits when it came to the number of men she’d slept with. But I wasn’t there to judge. She could do what she pleased as long as she was safe about it. I, on the other hand, didn’t do the whole sleeping-around thing. Honestly, I didn’t do the whole sex thing. The last and only time it happened, I’d gotten burned. So I had no intention of falling into bed with a guy until I was absolutely positive there was a connection between us that we both felt.

At that moment I was content with my life as it was. I was too busy for anything more than a bar flirtation and I was completely okay with that. I was young. I had time. Suzanne seemed to be on a mission to try out every single freaking frog she could get her hands on until she finally found that elusive prince.

Suzanne strode back to our table with the guy and his two friends in tow. They sat down and introduced themselves. Unfortunately, the guy she was interested in, Seb, quickly turned his attention from her to me. Thankfully one of his friends seemed more than into Suzanne.

Seb was really nice. He asked me a lot of questions about myself and I reciprocated. We laughed and chatted about everyday nonsense, and the guys bought us another round of drinks.

After a few hours had passed, our new friends started talking about hitting a club. Michaela didn’t look too sure, and I wasn’t about to leave her behind, so Suzanne and I went to freshen up in the ladies’ toilets while Michaela mulled it over.

We were standing at the sinks, reapplying blusher and lipstick, when Suzanne mused, “So… Seb is delicious. Does he warrant a break from the longest dry spell in history or are you going to pull the Hannah Tease on this one as well?”

I grunted. “The Hannah Tease?”

She gave me a look that said, Like you don’t know . “The Hannah Tease. The gorgeous Hannah Nichols always snags the hottest of the hot, flirts her arse off with him for a few hours, but leaves him to go home with blue balls and no phone number.”

“I’m not teasing anyone,” I objected. “If I’m not interested I don’t put it out there that I am. It’s harmless light banter. That’s it.”

This time the look she gave me was one that she’d begun to give me on a regular basis. It was an impatient expression that said she didn’t understand me. Not one bit. “What the hell is wrong with you? And when are you going to get over the past and finally get under someone new?”

I shook my head, pretending I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Have you ever considered I might be happy? Isn’t that the whole point to all this? To be happy? And I am. I love my job, I love my family, and I love my friends. I have a good life, Suzanne.”

She snorted this time. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

I felt my blood heat in indignation. “What is your problem tonight? Is it because of Seb? Because you’re welcome to him.”

This time Suzanne turned on me with narrowed eyes. “Oh, I could have him if I wanted to, don’t worry.”

“Then what’s the attitude about?”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me like I’m one of your kids. You know, you’ve gotten really boring lately.”

I laughed incredulously at the turn our conversation had taken. Suzanne wasn’t the most tactful person, and she had a tendency to snap impatiently at people, but tonight she was turning her reserve of nastiness on me, which she’d never done before. “In my defense, you are acting like a child.”

“Eh, whatever.” She threw her hands up in despair, like the consummate drama queen she was. “Let’s just see if Michaela wants to go clubbing…” I felt sure she was going to say something else, but in the end she just pinched her lips together and stormed out of the toilets.

I was leaving the toilets when I got a text from Lucy, a friend from teacher training, asking if I fancied joining her for a drink. She was around the corner at a pub on the Royal Mile with a few friends and knew I was out tonight. I texted her back, then casually made my way over to my friends.

“Michaela has decided to come with us,” Suzanne said cheerily, like she hadn’t just verbally bitch-slapped me in the toilets.

I squeezed Michaela’s shoulder and smiled at them all. “You guys have a good night. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Ignoring Suzanne’s sputtering, I sauntered out of there, away from the drama and the gorgeous boys, and spent the rest of the evening getting drunk with people who didn’t care if I was single or married, skinny or fat, ambitious or laid-back. They were just out to relax and de-stress from work, and that was all I was looking for too.

Life was good. I certainly didn’t need anyone trying to tell me it wasn’t because they themselves were discontented.

The next morning I woke up to get ready for Jo and Ellie’s baby shower. My mum, Elodie, was hosting it at my parents’ house for all the girls, while the men looked after the kids.

I’d just switched off my hairdryer and was sitting down to do my makeup when my door buzzer went off. Not expecting anyone, I wondered if one of the girls had decided to drop in on me before the baby shower.

“Hello?” I called into the entry phone.

“It’s me,” a familiar deep and masculine voice said.

Pleased by the unexpected visit, I answered, “Come on up.”

When I opened my door Cole Walker smiled at me and strode inside. I turned my cheek for his kiss and offered him a coffee.

“Sure.” He followed me into my kitchen.

Cole Walker was Jo’s little brother. He was a year younger than me, but you’d never know it. I’d never met a guy so close to my age as mature as Cole. For as long as I’d known him he’d been that way. He acted more like a thirty-year-old than the twenty-one-year-old he was.

We’d been friends because our families were close, but the year I turned seventeen we’d grown closer. So close, I considered him my best friend. I often thought it was a shame there wasn’t any sexual chemistry between us, because Cole was seriously one of the best guys I’d ever met and he would make anyone a fantastic boyfriend.

Despite being a little hotheaded, especially when it came to anyone hurting or even pissing off someone he cared about, Cole was the least judgmental person I knew. There were occasions when he could be cocky and come off as intimidating to those who didn’t know him well, but I knew him to be down-to-earth, easy to talk to, intelligent, creative, compassionate, loyal, and sensible, despite what his appearance might suggest to people inclined to judge a book by its cover.

A few inches over six feet, Cole was broad-shouldered and athletically built – he had an amazing body, honed in martial arts classes and weekly visits to the gym. He had messy strawberry blond hair that his sister was always nagging at him to cut, gorgeous green eyes, and a handsome face that was usually scruffy and in need of a shave. It wasn’t his natural good looks that raised eyebrows, although he did turn heads. It was the tattoos. He had lyrics tattooed on his inner right wrist, and black feathers on the back of his right shoulder that reached over and down his upper biceps, the feathers leading to an eagle that was flying, wings outstretched. In its talons dangled an old-fashioned pocket watch. He had yet to cover his left arm, although he was working on ideas for a sleeve.