Hanleigh's London

Chapter 8: She Leaves Me Off Kilter

She looks completely confused by my outburst and I think it might be the cutest thing I've ever seen. It's interesting because I've never really gone for cute before.

Usually the women I hook up with are hot, sexy but never cute.

I mean, the woman is clearly beautiful but it's a sweeter beauty than I'm used to. She's young and happy; undamaged. I like that.

She looks like she's struggling to find a reply but I'm not left waiting long.

"It's a new preference."

"I see." I lick my lips as I take in every detail of her face. "So, before you turned to tequila, what were you?"

"Pardon?" I've confused her again. For some reason, I take pleasure in it.

"A gin girl? A vodka girl?"

"Neither; I've never been much of a drinker."

I've made her blush.

God! That's hot.

Even as I take in her blush, I carry on the conversation. She tells me that she's never been drunk before tonight and I raise my eyebrow disbelievingly.

I know I look surprised.

I usually try to control my facial expressions but with her it feels harder. It's probably because she keeps confounding me.

I'm giving more of myself away than ever before and I'm not sure I like it. I prefer to be the one in control of the situation.

Licking my lips, I take her in. She's an enigma.

Earlier, as I had watched her I had been sure I had her pegged; pretty, rich, party girl, slightly shy but up for some fun. With my profile of her character in mind, I had felt in control.

Now that she's surprised me, my grasp on that control feels looser. I don't know what to expect from her and it leaves me feeling off kilter.

The barman is back and I tell him to put her drinks on my tab without taking my eyes off her as she looks through her bag for her purse.

I have a permanent tab in this particular bar. It's a new addition to a couple of my old university friends' chain of restaurants and clubs.

I'm barely blinking. I know I must look severe but I feel like I have to take in every detail of her so that I might understand her.

People often say that when I'm thinking, I look closed off as if I'm immune to emotion. I'm not. I just try not to let other people see it. In business, I don't want to give anyone the upper hand and in dating... well, let's say, I prefer it when my dates don't get close.

That's why I have rules. There are just some things that should be kept private; in fact, most things should be kept private. That's the way I like my life; private and controlled.

She turns back to me.

"You don't have to do that."

I smirk. I'm fully aware of the fact.

"I don't have to do anything." I don't remember the last time I felt obliged to do anything. I only ever do what I want.

I tell her to enjoy her drinks because I don't know what else I can say to her. I'm not used to feeling like this; like I don't know what to do. I'm always confident. I always know what to do.

It might sound arrogant, but I'm just self-confident.

Usually, this is easy for me. Normally I'd have already asked her back to my place, and we'd be in my car barely talking as we drove back to mine. She'd be commenting on the interiors of my Lexus as my hand rested on her thigh.

But instead she's thanking me for her drinks, and a part of me is scared that she's about to walk away.

The other part of me thinks that might not be a bad idea; she's not the sort of girl I usually take home. Taking her home would probably break a rule; I'm just not sure which one.

That's not completely accurate; it's more like how many rules would it break.

Almost all of them?

I don't break the rules. I've never wanted to even.

I'm watching her, still trying to get a grasp of who she is when her friend comes up behind her and makes her jump. I really don't want her to go with her friend, and so I'm delighted when she tells her friend to go and have fun with the blonde guy she's met. Her friend glances at me with interest, but I don't even look at her, my focus is completely on the girl in front of me.

"Your friend is certainly excitable," I say as she watches her friend leave with an affectionate look on her face.

My words get her eyes back on me, and I'm grateful.

"She's..." She takes her time trying to describe her friend but in the end settles for. "She's Tallulah."

The love in her voice is clear. They're good friends.

"And who are you?" I ask the question that's on the tip of my tongue. I want to know her.

"I'm Aurora. Rory."