Inevitable by Roberts A.S

Author:Roberts, A.S. [Roberts, A.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.S.Roberts
Published: 2016-08-16T07:00:00+00:00

BELLA

The cool liquid was sliding almost effortlessly down my sore and extremely burnt throat, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach obviously hadn’t agreed with my oesophagus. The evening was warm and sultry, the bar we had gone to felt decidedly sticky, but at least the beer they were serving was cold.

I was grateful for the one little cotton dress that Aunty Jean had packed for me. For the first time in a few days, I felt feminine. The short lemon dress, with shoestring straps, fitted to my braless boobs and then fell loosely to my mid-thigh, resembling a baby-doll nightdress. I’d changed into clean underwear and the little pumps she had also packed. Nathan had also insisted upon me wearing my denim shorts as he guessed I was going to want to dance and I presumed no one was allowed to see my bare arse cheeks except him, I thought with a smile. My hair was clean, even wet in places still and I was grateful as the dampness was helping me to remain cool. I had piled it up messily on top of my head, several tendrils had since fallen down and were scattered over the tops of my shoulders. I’d applied a little make-up and was beginning to feel more like Bella with every mouthful of alcohol I managed to swallow.

Nathan had insisted we sat up at the bar but tucked around the corner, the furthest away from the door. There he could watch as everyone entered and left the busy bar/restaurant.

Not only was the motel we were staying at a 1980’s throwback, but it seemed that the bar was as well. I had just finished eating a meal of chicken in a basket. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten anything out of a basket, it was delicious though. I watched Nathan as he sat next to me. He had finished every scrap of food and in doing so he began to move the thoughtfully supplied toothpick around and in between every finger on his hand. It must have been something he had done time after time before, he was so well practised at it. Finally, the toothpick found its way into his mouth, his tongue twirled it around making it move quickly from side to side, so fast it was almost mesmerising. The Nathan I was getting to know was a constant fidget, whether it be his tin of mints, a beer bottle top, or a toothpick. He could only relax if he was moving something. It was a revelation, I felt honoured to be allowed to see the real man behind the mask and facades he had built up over the years.

The bar tender had made his way back over to us again, he was using a crisp, clean tea-towel to shine up a beer glass. I could hear the cloth, squeaking on the soapy residue on the glass. He took his eyes away from the task in hand and stared at our empty baskets.

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