Distracted By You: Book 1 in The Exeter Running Girls Series, стр. 6
Well, the new year had not long begun, and I think this was going to be one of my most embarrassing moments of it. Crashing into the guy you think is as hot as hell when you’re all sweaty and disgusting. It’s hardly the greatest move anyone can make.
“Oops, sorry,” I steadied myself with the running machine. “Stop calling me princess!” I clocked onto the nickname again and blew a strand of hair out of my eyes in exasperation.
“It suits you though,” he winked and carried on past me.
“Legs turned to jelly and not from exercise,” I whispered into the air. Despairing of myself even more, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see him take up position on a running machine next to a guy I didn’t know. He was a good runner, his athletic arms evident as he strode out on the machine. “Stop staring,” I berated myself and moved away, covering my face and the tomato-tinged cheeks to hide my embarrassment.
“So, who is next on your list?” I asked Leonora and Ellie as they leaned over the coffee counter, silently getting a thrill out of listening to their exciting lives. I was making frappuccinos for them – this was their fifth time in as many days. They claimed they weren’t abusing my new staff discount card at the uni coffee shop. Strangely enough, I didn’t believe them.
“Mine is a guy called Andreas,” Leonora spoke with a dreamy smile. “German, thick blonde hair, almond coloured eyes. Oh – he has dimples when he smiles too-”
“Ellie, tell me yours before she gives me this poor guy’s measurements.” I passed them the first frappuccino with a pretend roll of my eyes.
“Well, my next guy I haven’t actually met, but Leonora thinks I should go for him,” Ellie smiled sweetly, her beautiful dark eyes sparkling with intrigue.
“Oh? Who’s that?” I looked over to her as I began the next frappuccino.
“Tyler Aritza.”
I nearly dropped the cup of ice – the cold cubes tipped over the edge and escaped across my hand.
“Careful, Ivy,” Leonora said with a little worry. “You okay, hun?”
“Fine, just slipped,” I fixed the frappuccino, suddenly eager to avoid their gaze. “Why him?” I mean, why, why of all people did she have to choose him.
“Well, he wouldn’t go for me,” Leonora offered, twirling her spoon in her coffee. “So he will probably go for Ellie. We’re going to test out your theory. Fifty-fifty of the female-fancying population, right?” Damn me and my theories! It had been an entertaining night last term where we all got tipsy at Ellie’s playing board games and I came up with my theory. It did not seem so fun at that moment.
“Right,” I smiled, hoping they couldn’t see how fake it felt. I passed them the second coffee, placing the cup down slightly heavier than I’d intended. I think Leonora noticed, she was always more perceptive than Ellie, but she didn’t say anything. Her gaze was too focused on the new ladybugs on my hand.
“We have to go,” Ellie was pulling Leonora away. “See you at the party, yes?”
I nodded to them both, unsure really what she had said, my mind concentrating on something else entirely. Remind me why I’m friends with two of the biggest flirts at the university?
“Oh, Ivy, you just don’t understand. You don’t really know what he is like.”
“He’s my dad. So I think I have a little idea.” My latest attempt at calming down my mum was not going well. Actually, that was an understatement. It was going catastrophically bad – like being on the other end of a nuclear bomb going off.
They had argued for years. I was not so blind to not see that most happily married parents didn’t argue as they did. Even childhood birthday parties were home to arguments over chocolate caterpillar cakes, but I was still amazed they could give up on each after so long, and after all they had been through.
I was in my room with my phone pressed between my ear and shoulder, perched in my desk chair as my hands busied themselves doodling. There were now four ladybugs on the back of my left hand. One of them was wearing a little top hat and carrying a cane. I kept dreaming of a tattoo – perhaps if I had a tattoo of a ladybug it would stop me wanting to draw one there.
“Have you spoken to him recently?”
“No,” which was sadly the truth. I had called him twice last week, but he had never answered. In a way, I was actually very glad. If he had answered, I wasn’t sure what I would have said.
“He’s just so selfish.”
Her insult took me by surprise and the pen jabbed harder into my skin than I expected.
“Ow!” I pulled back the pen to see a bead of blood emerge from one of the ladybugs, turning the black outline into a fitting red splodge.
“Darling, you okay?”
“I’m fine. Paper cut.” It felt easy to lie. She didn’t need to know about my new weird habit. “I’ve got to go. Call you tomorrow?”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Her voice switched from soft to bitterness once again. “If you do speak to your father, tell him he’s a hard-hearted bast-”
I hung up the phone. A beat later I repeatedly tapped my