At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (latest novels to read TXT) 📕

I got out and the car swiftly disappeared. I joined Charlie on the pavement, looking up at the large Victorian house, dark except for a warm yellow light behind the curtain of Ned’s room.

‘Nice place,’ he muttered.

‘Yeah, it’s not too shabby, maybe a little run-down.’

He slowly turned to face me, his eyelids hanging at half-mast over his eyes.

‘This evening didn’t turn out like I thought it would,’ he said as fine rain began to dust us both.

‘Me neither.’ I smiled at the soft, drunk look in his eyes. I tucked my hair behind my ear, pulling it away from where the rain was beginning to flatten it to my forehead. He reached out a hand towards my chest. For a moment, I didn’t know what he would do and I drew in an uncertain breath. He picked up the small fraying plait that I’d absentmindedly braided during a call earlier on in my shift and stroked it between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

My heart rate quickened at the physical contact that I couldn’t even feel and I watched his faraway eyes as they watched what his fingers were doing, as if he had no control over them and was interested to see what they would do next.

His brow drew into a frown and his mouth quirked as if he was in mild pain. He said something through lips that barely moved and it was so quiet that I didn’t know if I’d imagined it or not.

‘Sorry?’ I bowed my head and tried to bring myself into his gaze. ‘What was that?’

He looked up and the moment his eyes met mine, I was struck by the expression in them. I couldn’t place it because I didn’t think I’d ever seen it before.

‘I said, thank you,’ he said a little clearer.

‘For what?’

‘For talking to me in the café.’

‘No problem.’ I smiled softly. My confidence soared from the positive vibes I was getting from him and the alcohol that was coursing through my veins. I knew I must be more drunk than I thought I was because of what I said next. ‘It’s not every lunch break that you find yourself sitting next to a pretty Irishman, so I thought I’d try and make the most of it.’

His mouth drew into a wide smile and lines carved their way into his cheeks, partially hidden behind that stubble that I kept imagining scratching its way across my chin. ‘Pretty? Is that what I am?’

I blushed, but didn’t look away, the alcohol making me braver than I could remember being in recent memory. ‘There it is,’ he said, placing his crooked finger beneath my chin. ‘That smile.’

‘I’ve been smiling all night,’ I said nervously.

‘No, that’s your show smile. This here, this is the real one. It’s like sunshine.’

‘Okay, now I know you’ve had too much to drink.’

My grin grew wider as I tried to not let the feel of his skin on mine, no matter how little skin that was, turn me into a giggling, babbling moron.

I felt like all of the social rules about personal space had already evaporated. Like if I wanted to reach out and touch him, I could, and it wouldn’t be weird. I wondered if this, if Charlie, would turn out to be my first one-night stand. I’d never liked the idea of them – maybe because I was conceived during one – but the idea of being naked and vulnerable with a near-stranger seemed like something I’d need a hell of a lot more alcohol for than this.

He stepped closer, my thin piece of braided hair still in his hand and his eyes on mine. I felt a swell of nerves in my chest and found myself wanting him to kiss me more than I had ever wanted anything in my whole life.

Were you meant to kiss on the first date? Would doing that make me easy or was that only a rule in Noughties sitcoms? And who was even policing these rules? Was there a board of people waiting in the conifer hedge to leap out and call me a whore?

‘Do … you … erm …’ I mumbled as his face drew a little closer and mine mirrored his movement until I could feel his breath dancing across my lips, smell the detergent drifting up from his clothes, feel the heat seeping through the fabric of his T-shirt and into the sliver of air between our chests. ‘Do … you want to come in?’

I had no idea how I was being so brazen, but the idea of not kissing him before the night was out was too much of a tragedy to contemplate. I moved a little closer, my lips pouting out to meet his. My top lip grazed his and I felt the stubble of his upper lip, wiry and sharp against the soft skin of my face.

His lips parted and his body moved against mine, his chest firm and warm. All of a sudden, I felt like we were both wearing far too many clothes. I laced my fingers through the hand that hung at his side.

‘I …’ he began. We were so close that we were sharing breaths, the air leaving my lungs and falling straight into his. ‘I can’t do this.’

I exhaled a disappointed breath as he swiftly stepped away and my heart fell into my stomach. ‘Oh.’

He walked away a few paces and dragged rigid fingers through his hair. ‘What the feck am I doing?’ he said quietly, almost to himself.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, reaching out to touch the sleeve of his jacket, but he shook my hand away. I stepped back, my pride smarting.

He turned around halfway, but didn’t meet my eye. ‘I just can’t do this. Okay?’ His words were clipped and almost angry.

‘What happened? Everything was fine a minute ago,’ I said taking a step closer. He countered with a step back.

‘I need to go.’ He spun on the ball of