Page 98 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
I look at his mouth again as he talks on his mobile.
It’s a nice mouth. Arrogant, yes, but also kind of, well, gorgeous.
Fuck.
Why can’t I stop looking at Leo Frost’s mouth?
Don’t be a dick, Jess. It’s just smoke and mirrors. He’s handsome in his blue polo shirt, there’s a heatwave, you’ve had champagne, maybe he’s not quite as terrible as you thought he’d be and maybe he’s got a bit more depth to him than you expected but that does not mean you fancy him. It fucking does not.
Leo catches me staring at his mouth and grins widely. I quickly look away under the guise of searching my purse for some non-existent thing.
When he’s put the phone down, he asks, ‘Are you free tomorrow evening, Lucille? Tonight has been very me-centric and I’d love a chance to find out more about you.’
‘Yes, I’m free,’ I say at once.
But as Lucille or as Jess, I’m not entirely sure.
Suddenly, I feel nervous too.
* * *
I ride the town car back to Bonham Square with a very niggly feeling indeed. It feels like butterflies, but not in the nice way. To be fair, I did drink loads of champagne and maybe just need to do a massive burp. I hope so.
I flashback to Leo Frost looking sad about his mum in the gallery, making me laugh by the fountain, leaning in to kiss me. Then I think about what it would have been like to kiss him. I bet Leo Frost is dead good at kissing . . .
No.
I do not like Leo Frost.
I pull a face at my treacherous brain. Stoppit, brain.
I try to get a grip of myself. Maybe Leo Frost releases a higher than average amount of testosterony, pheromoney-type chemicals, and I’m sniffing them out and my body and brain are simply reacting to that in a normal human way. There’s no other reason for almost kissing him. Or . . . maybe, without even realizing it, I’m falling victim to the Leo Frost power? To the magnetic power that Valentina and Summer were talking about at the David Arthur Montblanc party? Maybe this is Leo Frost’s magic – confident and charismatic twat on the outside, sensitive and pained soul of an artist on the inside. Maybe this is histhing,how he captures his hearts before he chews them up and spits them out.
I make a mental note to call Valentina again in the morning and find out more about what he was like with her. I need back-up.
When the car reaches Grandma’s building, I thank the driver and get out. Lifting my head, I walk determinedly across the street.
As I approach the door, I see the downstairs lights are on. Jamie is at the clinic.
See.That’swhat I do. I like Jamie. I have casual sex with Jamie. I don’t get bizarre nervous sensations about Jamie and that’s the best way to be. The safest way to be.
Ugh. I feel all kinds of weird. My heart is racing. I do not like it. This feeling needs to do one and fast.
There’s only one thing for it.
I hurry up the steps of the building, storm into the lobby and knock hard on the clinic door. Jamie answers immediately, almost as if he was waiting for me.
‘Hullo, Jess,’ he starts with a warm smile. ‘How was your ni—’
‘Let’s have all the sex.’ I interrupt, pushing him back inside the clinic and slamming the door behind us. ‘Now.’
* * *
There. That’s better. I can breathe again. Lovely, casual fun sexy times with Jamie and no horrible overthinking things and fancying the wrong people. As I’m pulling my sundress back on, Jamie says, ‘You want to go for a walk?’
I shrug. ‘Why not?’
Doing a circuit of the park will be a good way to wind down. I’ve not managed to get a run in today; besides, I don’t quite feel up to relaying tonight’s date to Grandma and Peach right away. I’d rather not think about it at all, if possible.
