Worst Impressions

Chapter Thirty Three

We found Freddie in the billiards room.

It had been kitted out in all manner of distractions, from a dart board to a flat-screen television mounted to the oak-panelled wall. Such an environment was a familiar one. Having been brought up by my father, I'd often spent my evenings as a child in the local pub perched on his knee while he laughed and drank with his friends. My father wasn't much of a drinker, but he enjoyed the social interaction and ours was a close-knit community. Half the town packed into the drinking establishments on a Friday night before they staggered home, tripping over the cobbles in the dark and laughing raucously between themselves. It was rather comforting to discover that such a room was a part of the house, and I made a mental note to revisit it when William wasn't an occupant.

Freddie was leaning back against the polished oak bar, his eyes on the television and a remote in his hands. His eyes were pinched in annoyance at the football game being broadcast in crystal clear high definition. At first, I thought he hadn't noticed us as we intruded on his solitude. He proved me wrong when he complained, 'I can't get the English subtitles to work. This stupid thing is broken again.'

'You're French, why do you need subtitles?' I asked.

'They're speaking German.'

'And you're watching it in German because..?' William questioned.

'Because I did something to the remote and I can't change it back.'

It wasn't uncommon for my father to fall asleep on the remote after a long day of work and wake up to find that he'd screwed up the settings. It was why we kept the manual on the coffee table so that he could figure out how to fix it while I was away at school. Confident that I could resolve the issue, I took the remote from Freddie's hand without waiting for permission. My fingers grazed his, and he jumped at the skin contact, but a smile followed so I didn't believe that he was unhappy with my bold actions.

I tapped away at the remote, scooting through all the menus with the speed one only gained with years of practice. The screen turned black before it flickered back to life. With it came the unmistakable sound of a French commentator excitedly jabbering over the game. Thrilled to hear his native language through the speakers, Freddie clapped me on the back. 'Superb! Merci.'

'No problem.' I placed the remote back into his waiting hand.

'How did you know how to –'

'There's not much to do where I live if it's raining. The TV and I spend a lot of quality time together in the winter. I'm Beth, by the way. Nice to meet you. I think.'

'Enchanté,' he greeted. Freddie took my hand in his elegant fingers and bowed his head to kiss my knuckles. It was barely a whisper of a kiss, but it still made me blush. 'I'm not as miserable as my cousin if that's why you're hesitant. I've been looking forward to our meeting, Mademoiselle.'

When Wyatt had kissed my hand, I'd been repulsed. It had been forceful, wet, and entirely unwanted. When Freddie did it, I felt butterflies swarm in my stomach. I supposed it helped when the person bestowing the kiss was both cute and charming.

I gave Lisa a hard time for being boy crazy, but I knew that I could be just as bad. I'd never throw myself after a man or play the fool to get their attention, but I liked a handsome face just as much as any other straight girl my age. It wasn't like I was a nun. I had ovaries, hormones, and fantasies of my own.

'You have?' I asked. 'You make it sound like you'd heard of me before today.'

'Oui. Will's talked about you a lot.'

'All bad, I hope.' I smirked. 'Can't have him spoiling my terrible reputation by speaking well of me.'

'Shut up, Freddie,' William warned before his cousin could reply.