Chapter Fourteen: hook, line and sink him

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

It wasn't like Daisy was trying to turn Hunt on.

It was just that Vanessa kept finding reasons to touch him.

For no other reason than Amira or the concierge or the universe itself hating her, that night at dinner, Daisy and Hunt were seated beside Vanessa and Zaid. They were back at the waterside bistro they'd ordered pizza at on their first date as a faux-couple, but this time the lagoon was lit by dozens of torches. The night sky was clear, peppered with stars. Fire dancers performed on the island at the centre of the water. Daisy could smell water lilies and crackling wood and Vanessa's perfume, a clash of florals and tangy fruit.

Because Vanessa was sitting to Hunt's left.

Which was far too close for comfort.

"Remember when we went to Bondi for schoolies," Vanessa was saying to Hunt as she reached for another oyster from the middle of the table, "and you dragged me to that little seafood bar with the Friday night special? It was after we'd spent all day in our hotel room, remember?" Her voice had dropped low, and Daisy was pretty sure the entire table caught her drift.

Vanessa didn't wait for Hunt to answer, adding, "You were right about the oysters. About their ... special qualities." She chose that exact moment to slurp loudly from the shell, then pointed to the tray. "Oyster?"

Hunt finished off his salad, his mouth stuffed with leaves. "I'm good."

But Vanessa was already popping one on his plate. She'd been serving food to him all night. Calamari, prawns, mussels. Hell, she'd even buttered his bread before the food was brought out.

Daisy's saving grace was that Belle and Ruby were seated to her right, and while most people who met Belle thought she was the embodiment of the princess of the same name, those closest to her knew that the princess had fangs. She was just really, really good at hiding them.

Ruby ... not so much.

"Personally," Belle murmured behind a forkful of crab, "I've always thought oysters look like giant boogers."

"Personally," Ruby said loud enough for the Queen of England to hear, "I've always thought oysters look like giant boogers."

That got a laugh out of Zaid.

Vanessa coughed a little, choking the last of her food down. "Lovely," she remarked, sipping on her water.

Hunt patted his mouth with a serviette. He popped it on his plate beside his untouched shellfish and neatly arranged cutlery. "Actually, I do remember how sick you got the next day. I felt so bad I left the hotel staff an extra fifty bucks for the mess."

"Yes," Vanessa agreed, "we did leave that room in a bit of a state." She winked over the table at the younger couple. "If you know what I mean."

"No," Belle mumbled into her iced tea. "What do you mean?"

"No." Ruby leaned over Daisy, her smile so contrived it gave the concierge a run for his money. "What do you mean, Vanessa?"

Vanessa's creamy cheeks went pink. "Well, I ..." She looked to Zaid for help, but he was distracted by the female half of the younger couple, who was babbling on about a rumour that two of his bandmates had been secretly dating each other. Vanessa simply said, "That's hardly appropriate dinner conversation, Jade."

With Vanessa's gaze on her plate, Ruby stuck out her tongue.

Daisy glared at her friend's girlfriend, bewildered. "Behave."

"Do something," Ruby mouthed back.

Daisy frowned, confused, and turned to Laia for support. Her arched brow and pursed lips said, I'm with her.

Daisy waved them off, getting back to work on deconstructing her mango and coconut mousse; she and Ruby had picked at their mains—a seafood buffet—and with a shared glance, opted to go straight to dessert. It didn't feel right to devour seafood when Daisy knew baby turtles slumbered somewhere on the bank.

Hunt mumbled something. Vanessa laughed. Daisy poked at her mousse, her stomach swirling like a rip. She couldn't deny that she felt like she was back on that boat, when Vanessa had been talking to Hunt as though she wasn't there. Like she was back in every dance class, when she'd stand at the barre and warm-up alone while Vanessa whispered and laughed with her friends on the other side of the studio. Daisy remembered one of those friends coming up to her after class one day. She'd asked why Daisy never stood up for herself.

"What's the point?" she'd replied.

Stopping the cycle.

That was the point.

Because Vanessa would keep doing it, Daisy realised. It had been years since their last class together, years since they'd seen one another, but they were still trapped in the past like living ghosts. Daisy was still shrinking in Vanessa's presence, letting her soak up the spotlight at her expense.

What if she didn't?

Vanessa launched into an itinerary of her and Hunt's time in Bondi. Just as she was nearing a story that started with her donning a new piece of lingerie she'd bought 'specifically for the occasion', Daisy leaned over Belle, plucking the juiciest strawberry from Ruby's shortcake. Both girls watched Daisy with knitted brows as she dipped the plump fruit into her mousse, swirled it through the whipped cream, then shifted in her seat, lifting the foamy concoction into the air. Her heart was pounding, but she willed her voice to sound steady, to sit low in her throat.

"Baby?"

Hunt went rigid.

Within the space of a breath, he turned to face her, the dancing shadows from the fire dancers rippling over the left side of his face. Vanessa's mouth floundered, her story halting mid-word.

Daisy didn't know where she summoned the courage from. Before she knew it, she was holding the glistening strawberry right in front of Hunt's lips, clasping it between her fingers like a red flag before a bull.

"You said you wanted to try my dessert," she purred.

He hadn't.

A slight crease in his brow spoke to his confusion. But as Daisy brought the strawberry licking distance from his mouth, Hunt opened his lips. Gave the fruit—gave her—full, unopposed access.

His mouth closed around it, and she could feel his cool, minty breath lapping against her fingertips. Felt that gaze of swirling green and brown watching, assessing, as surely as she felt the night air glide over her arms, nuzzling her nerve endings. His teeth came down around the strawberry. She eased the remaining half from his mouth, aware of his lips dragging against the red flesh. Aware, but not watching—because her gaze was tethered to his.

She might have brushed the strawberry against his lips before moving it into his mouth. Might have smeared a bit of whipped cream there in the process. Might have willed her expression to darken just the slightest bit now as she leaned forward.

And swiped it with her thumb.

Slowly, almost languidly, she brought her finger to her mouth. His gaze followed suit. He watched while she eased her thumb inside, sucking the cream from her skin as though it was water in the desert, as though it was the sweetest nectar on a hot summer day.

She smiled coyly, but her eyes were heavy-lidded with wicked insinuation. "Good?" She didn't recognise her voice.

Hunt mustn't have either; his eyes jerked up at the sound. Shadows were falling over his face, eating up the flecks of gold. He went to say something. Stopped.

Because he still hadn't swallowed.

He choked down his small mouthful, and she became captive to the bob of his Adam's apple as the creamy concoction slid down his throat.

"Good," he finally murmured.

"Good," Daisy repeated. She let her hand fall, resting it on his thigh—at the same time as she drew the last of the strawberry into her mouth. Lazily, she licked the cream from the flesh.

Hunt stiffened in his seat, his eyes burning questions she didn't know how to begin to answer with words. She let her thumb whisper over the fabric of his shorts instead. They were quite thin, she realised, biting her lip at the feel of the tense muscle underneath.

He saw that, too.

"Vanessa?" Daisy cooed sweetly, still not dropping Hunt's heated stare. "Could you pass the pitcher down, please?"

There was commotion to Hunt's left. If he heard it, it didn't show. He was still watching Daisy, his gaze still flittering between her eyes and the exact place she'd bitten her lip.

Vanessa dumped the pitcher on the table, spilling droplets of water over Hunt's forearm. He didn't seem to feel it.

"Mind pouring Hunt a glass, Nes?" Daisy asked sweetly, her thumb still skimming patterns into Hunt's thigh. "You've been such a help this evening, and I want him nice and hydrated tonight."

"If you know what she means," Belle and Ruby quipped at the same time.

Hunt's eyes popped. His pupils ate up all the hazel, two twin pools of onyx that Daisy had the strangest urge to fall into. Something in her stomach curled. He mumbled, and she had to lean in closer to hear him.

The concierge clapped his hands obnoxiously, and Daisy and Hunt sprung apart.

"Alright," the concierge announced. "Amira will be joining us soon. She's requested you all make good use of the dental hygiene products laid out on the table and be ready for this evening's game—at ten. Sharp."

Why did Daisy feel like that 'sharp' was an arrow aimed at her?

"Ten?" Laia yawned. She'd forgone her usual martini, and Daisy could see that their early mornings and late nights were taking a toll on her.

Before she could send her best friend their You're Going Down look, Belle and Ruby each took one of Daisy's arms, hoisting her to her feet. But then her attention snagged—on Vanessa.

Vanessa, who was leaning over Hunt, her chest grazing his shoulder while she refilled his glass, her voice low and sultry in his ear. Daisy's stomach fell to the floor. But adrenaline and spite were still twining, still sparking, and Daisy was not taking Vanessa's attempt at a comeback lying down.

"Darling?"

Just like before, Hunt's attention snapped like a rubber band, his eyes finding hers. Daisy ran a hand through his hair, tidying some of the ruffled strands. She didn't know whether she imagined it when she felt him lean into her touch.

"I think I sat in something before." Feigning sheepishness, she turned, offering a full view of her ass—which she knew looked damn good in those pants. Which she knew he thought looked damn good in those pants. "Could you please check for me?"

"Check?"

"Just give it a little ... feel?"

She thought Hunt might have been having a stroke; she'd never seen him go so still. Or heard him repeat so many words.

"Feel?"

Daisy blinked at him. Didn't balk.

And then his hand was brushing over her backside—just the faintest, softest touch. But it was enough, she realised, for something wicked to heat in her core.

Just a game, Daisy told herself. A lie.

She swallowed, willing confidence into her voice. "Good?"

Hunt didn't—or couldn't—hide that smirk of his. It unearthed his left dimple as he uttered, "Very good." He cupped her ass firmly, and added, "If you know what I mean."

Vanessa's chair squealed over the wooden slats as she pushed it back, snatching one of the toiletry bags the concierge had laid out on the table. She aimed for the restaurant bathroom, Zaid and the younger female in their group trailing her like lost puppies before she pointed her fiance in the direction of the men's room.

Daisy wasn't a mean person. Murderous, perhaps. But not mean. Still, watching Vanessa slink away after trying and failing to goad her felt darn good.

Hunt cleared his throat roughly, prying his hand from her cheek. "Daisy ..."

He didn't get a chance to figure out what he wanted to say. Belle and Ruby dragged Daisy away. Not even Belle was able to hide her triumphant grin, as shiny as a first-place trophy. Laia and Honey joined them as they aimed for the restrooms, opting to use the parents' room rather than deign to share a space with Vanessa and her minion.

When they emerged ten minutes later, Daisy's ears ringing and her cheeks flushed from all the shrieking praise her friends had given her for her performance, their table had been cleared of food, and Amira was once again sitting at its head.

"Ladies." She made a sweeping gesture, and Daisy and her friends wiped the smiles from their faces, taking their seats. "As I was explaining to the others, tonight's game is a little different."

Kenji snorted a laugh. "You can say that again." Was it just Daisy, or was his eyebrow-waggle directed at her?

"I have a variety of flavoured chapsticks laid out on the table." Amira nodded to the spread of balms, a riot of neon and pastels and sultry, berry-reds. "Each chapstick applies clear. Your partner will select one, apply it, and then you'll guess which flavour they've chosen. The pair who guesses the most flavours correctly wins."

"And how on earth do we do that?" Daisy asked, throwing Lai a WTF? glance.

Laia didn't return it. A whole different sort of smile curved her toffee-coloured lips.

Daisy knew. From that look alone, Daisy knew.

Still, she felt as though the world had been knocked out from under her heels when Amira rested her chin on her hands, and said, "Well, by kissing one another, of course."

A/N: Hi all!

*pops the fake couple on the stove and cranks up the heat*

There's nothing like a little kissing game to put a fake relationship to the test! How do you think Daisy and Hunt will react? Will they go through with it? Will Daisy reconsider her stance on not drowning (again)? I can't wait to read your predictions and thoughts!

ALSO, I'd like to start doing a Comment of the Chapter/Week sort of thing! My fav comments will be featured on my Instagram, & readers will have a chapter dedicated to them. Please opt-in here (an emoji will do) if you'd like to be considered! >>

With love,
Danielle x


You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net