The Art of Upgrading a Book Boyfriend (The Uni Files) (2 page)

"Tom," he tells me accepting
my shocked limp hand in his own.

"Uh, uh,"

That’s the best I can come up with.

"You’re Zoe, aren't you?"

"I think so. Um, no, actually yes I
am. I think."

Good God.

"Hey." He smiles at me which
makes my legs feel all weird and numb. Like I may not be able to walk on them
for a while. He watches as I attempt to get my face to move itself into
something resembling a smile. I fail and then some, as I grind my teeth at him
instead.

Andre is watching us with an amused
smile and Tom turns his attention back to him handing over a fiver.

"Uh, Tom. Uh, sorry how do we know
each other?"

Lame. Lame. Lame.

He laughs. "I work for IT. I’m the
one who always walks around carrying bits of computers about the place, and
sitting under desks fixing stuff."

Nope.
I am pretty sure I would have
remembered him crawling under my desk.

"IT. That sound exciting."

It doesn't, but I’m at a loss for what
to say.

He takes his sandwich from Andre and
turns to me smiling once again. This time the teasing smile has been replaced
by a full wattage grin that makes his eyes shine.

Whoa.

"Nice to meet you Zoe."

"Um, you too. I guess," I say
watching him walk out of the door.

Hold on a minute.

"Hey, wait up, that was my
order," I shout, darting after him onto the narrow street outside.

He turns, keeping the sandwich behind
his back.

"No I don't think so."

"I said it first."

"Maybe, but you didn’t pay
first."

"Okay how about I pay you, for
it."

He gives a little laugh and I flush
instantly.

"The sandwich obviously, nothing
else," I clarify, going beyond pink and into the puce realm of the colour
chart.

"How about I keep the sandwich and
owe you one good IT deed?"

I scrunch my face up. That sounds like a
shit trade.

"Oh whatever, just keep the
sandwich," I retort storming off the in the opposite direction. A
direction which takes me away from fancy delicatessens and towards McDonalds,
where they never run out of anything.

An hour later I am back at my desk
partially satisfied with a Happy Meal when an instant message flashes up.

Tom Carter: I feel kind of bad now.

And so he bloody should. Then I remember
Tristan and his delay on my deadline, and the fact I am likely to get the sack
if I don't get my release out on time.

Me: Now, about that IT good deed. Just
how far are you willing to go?"

Tom Carter: How far do you want me to
go?

Something about the word
want
makes
my stomach squeeze in an uncomfortable way.

Me: I need a legitimate excuse not to
release a digital pub this evening and preferably not till Monday...

I’m taking the piss and I know it.

I know it even more when I don't get a
response from him.
Damn it.

I am just pre-empting my sacking by
packing my stuff up on my desk when I get a blip on my machine.

Tom Carter: server down. I think you now
owe me, I will come for payment.

My mind which cannot be controlled at
the best of times, rolls itself into the gutter and thinks of ways I could pay
back the enigmatic Tom Carter.

I know I would never do it though, my
thoughts are just a sign that I’ve definitely read far too many romance novels.

Thinking of which, I still need to get
home to that cowboy.

I send a quick message back before
switching off my computer and grabbing my bag, making a bid for freedom like
the rest of London on a Friday night.

Me: I'll think of repayment options over
the weekend.
Thanx
. . .

The Twitch

Something really annoying is happening
to me, and I actually think I may need to go to the doctor, or perhaps the
emergency room.

I can’t stop twitching. It’s really
bloody annoying.

I came home as usual, ready to follow my
Friday night routine. Bath. Jimjams. Book. Wine. Pizza. Bed.

But something went wrong before the
first stage was complete. I was running the bath with lots of bubbles, just how
I like it, when I ended up staring out of the window for half an hour and
flooded the bathroom. Once in the oversized bath I couldn’t relax at all. I
just sat there staring into space. It was only as I got out of the bath and did
a bit of a weird wobble that I remembered my pathetic Happy Meal lunch and the
reason why I didn’t get to have my favourite sandwich.

That’s when the twitching began.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

Twitch in the kitchen, twitch in the
lounge, twitch between the bedroom and the lounge. Twitch about with an
unopened book in my hand.

I am stopped from anymore twitching by a
prolonged finger being held against the flat intercom buzzer.

BZZZZZ.

I march over and grab the receiver
barking “What,” into it.

Over the static crackling of the
outdated communication system I can make out Annabelle’s voice. “You better be
ready we are running late.”

“Ready for what I am dressed for bed.”

There is a moment of silence followed
by, “It’s seventy thirty you complete
sado
, let us up
now.”

I give a groan as I press the entry key.
The “Us,” makes me realise that
John
must be with her as well.
Great.
Not that he’s all bad, but I do find him a little on the boring side. Okay
I find him a lot on the boring side. Grabbing my dressing gown, I sling it over
my pyjamas and pull it tight around my middle, as I wait for Annabelle’s
endless whirlwind of upbeat enthusiasm and activity to arrive in my pokey
bedsit.

Annabelle arrives in a cloud of Clinique
Happy and towering
stilletoes
, air kissing me as she
leans down to give me a hug. “Why on earth aren’t you ready, we are going to be
late?”

“Late for what exactly?

“Brixton Academy? Remember? Battle of
the Bands?”

Oh yes that. Bugger.

“Okay give me five and I will grab some
jeans and be ready.”

Annabelle looks at me in shock. “Uh, no
you won’t. Black dress, you know the one, red heels. Come on, Zoe, this is our
first night out in ages.”

I attempt to smear some enthusiasm on my
face. The good news is that if I go tonight, then I won’t have to make the
effort again for at least two months.

“Okay, okay, but we will have to take
some plasters those shoes destroy my feet.”

An hour later we are at Brixton Academy,
and I am ten people deep in a queue at the bar, my feet are already killing me
and Annabelle and Boring John are nowhere to be seen. They went to check our
jackets into the cloakroom when we got here and I haven’t seen them since.
Excellent.

It’s a massive crush at the bar, but I
am more than aware when a hand lingers on the small of my back for longer than
a passing moment. I wait for it to move, and then I wait a little more.

It’s still there.

“Get your slimy hand off me.” I turn
with my elbow out making contact with the sticky fingered loser’s ribs.

“Jesus.” It’s the sandwich stealer who’s
now doubled up in pain, fingers spread against his waist.

“Serves yourself right.”

Tom straightens up.
Tom.

“What?” He shrugs his hands to the side,
as much as the limited space allows. “Are you still stroppy about that
sandwich?”

“I’m still hungry, if that’s what you
mean, and I am still blaming you.”

A wide smile lights up his face and his
eyes shine. “Really? You’re still blaming me? You could have eaten something
else by now.”

“I did. But it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Tom takes a step in towards me, and I
find myself holding my breath as I lower my eyes to take a quick glance at his
outfit. I always find a man’s outfit an enormous tell in whether I should spend
time talking to them, or whether I should just make an excuse and get home to
my book boyfriend
asap
. Black button down shirt and
dark jeans.
Mm.

His mouth lowers to my ear, and I find
my own mouth going inexplicably dry. “Was that really all you wanted?”

Excuse me?

“Chicken escalope happens to be my
absolute favourite,” I retort.

Tom throws his head back and laughs.
Again I find myself watching his shinning eyes.

“Well then I shall have to try very hard
to make it up to you.” He winks at me.

Cocky git.

“Don’t bother.”

Spinning back around again, I
concentrate on getting the bartenders attention. The whole time I am waiving my
money around I am acutely aware of Tom standing right next to me. Every so
often I feel the skin of my arm brush against his, and it sends a little rush
of electricity over my skin. Finally I get the drinks, I’ve ordered triples
just so I don’t have to stand the crush at the bar again. Turning to say
goodbye and to give him my spot at the bar I realise he is not behind me after
all, and it is some fat guy in a faded Metallica T-shirt whose been making my
skin flurry with goose-bumps.

Bye then.

Finally after circling the crowd five
times I locate Anabelle and John snogging in a corner.
Excellent another
night as a spare wheel.

I knock back one of my drinks straight
up quickly followed by the other two. Then I start to twitch again, my eyes
every so often darting around the crowd looking for Tom. I’m only interest to
see who the sandwich stealer is here with.

“I’m going for a wander,” I shout at
Anabelle and John.

Anabelle breaks her lips away from
John’s to say, “But the bands are about to come on.”

“Yeah
yeah
,
I’ll be back.” I wave my hand at them dismissively and edge out into the crowd,
quickly losing myself in the sea of people.

I’ve done a complete circuit of the
venue. Twice. And am beginning to think that I may have imagined my
conversation at the bar when I feel fingers against my elbow.

I turn slowly this time so I don’t cause
any physical injury.

“Are you looking for something?” Mouth
close to my ear.

“No.”

“Sure? You’ve walked past me twice.

Busted.

“I’m looking for my friends.”

“What the ones you waved goodbye to ten
minutes ago?”

“Yes those ones.”

Half of Tom’s mouth curves into a deliciously
devilish grin. “I’ve seen something of interest over here.” He nods his head towards
an alcove in the wall behind us.

“But the bands are that way?” I point at
the stage.

“And?”

Tom tugs on my hand, and although it is
something that I never ever do, I follow him into the darkened area.

The moment we are out of sight his hands
slide along my waist, and I can feel the heat of his palms through the thin
material of my dress. His mouth lowers to mine, but then hesitates, and I stand
there waiting for him to make a move.

Then I do something that I haven’t done
before, well not successfully anyway. I make a move of my own.

Something about him standing there, and
the heat generating between us makes me think of all those damn books that I
read. All the heroines filling the pages, who all know the right thing to do at
the right time, and it courses through me.

I slide my fingers along his shoulders
and into the hair at the base of his neck, as I edge myself onto tiptoes, and
place my lips against his. I can feel the lazy smile against the corners of my
mouth and it makes me flick my tongue against it. Moving himself into me he
pushes me back against the wall and deepens the kiss by using his teeth to
gently tug on my lower lip before sliding his tongue into my mouth using it to
start up a gentle dance as it darts against my own.

Against the wall, he pins me with his
weight, one long leg sliding between mine as his hand smooth’s down along the
curve of my stomach.

Whoosh.

That’s the fire starting at the tip of
my toes and spreading up my legs at such a rate it feels like I’m burning. I
try to hold it in, but I give a spontaneous gasp which makes him push against
me further.

Slowly Tom edges his lips away from my
mouth, down the cleft of my chin and along my throat. His teeth pull with the
slightest pressure on my earlobe which he whispers into. “So, I’ve been
thinking about that payback.” His voice is so low and the burn making its way
up my legs centres itself in the pit of my stomach and between my legs. One of
his hands grazes firmly along my right breast and the burn intensifies about
tenfold.