NO STRINGS ATTACHED
1703 Words
Adrian had rules.
They weren’t written anywhere.
They didn’t need to be.
No promises.
No jealousy.
No questions about the future.
Never say I love you unless you mean it.
And never stay long enough for someone to believe you might.
The rules worked.
For a while.
Three months after the awards dinner, Adrian’s reputation had spread beyond Ollie’s jokes.
Women knew about him before meeting him.
Some avoided him because of it.
Others seemed more interested.
Adrian found the second group increasingly difficult to resist.
Friday nights became predictable in their own way.
Work ended.
His suit jacket came off.
A message arrived.
A restaurant.
A rooftop bar.
A private party.
A beautiful stranger.
Sometimes he knew her name before midnight.
Sometimes she already knew his.
But Monday morning always found Adrian back at his desk.
That was the strange balance of his life.
During the week, he built software.
On weekends, he avoided building anything at all.
Especially relationships.
One Friday evening, Ollie found him sitting alone in a bar near Soho.
“Where’s tonight’s victim?”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“Don’t call women that.”
Ollie raised both hands.
“Bad joke.”
“Very.”
He sat opposite Adrian.
“You’re alone. That’s unusual.”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“Of course you are.”
Ollie ordered a drink.
“Who?”
“Lauren.”
“Do I know Lauren?”
“No.”
“Does Lauren know about Natasha?”
“There is no Natasha.”
“Camille?”
“No Camille either.”
“Chloe?”
Adrian stared at him.
“Why do you know these names?”
“Because your life has become a badly written television series.”
Adrian laughed.
“Everyone knows what this is.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“Because it’s true.”
Ollie leaned back.
“Do they?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
Adrian’s smile faded slightly.
“I don’t lie to women.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s your point?”
Ollie shrugged.
“No point.”
“You definitely have one.”
“I’m just wondering when casual stopped meaning occasional.”
Adrian looked at him.
“It hasn’t.”
Ollie laughed.
“Mate.”
“What?”
“You’ve had more dates this month than I’ve had this year.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It probably is.”
Adrian smiled.
Ollie didn’t.
“You’re happy, though?”
There was that question again.
Vanessa had asked it.
Sophie had asked it.
Now Ollie.
Why did everyone care whether he was happy?
He was successful.
Healthy.
Financially comfortable.
Free.
Wasn’t that enough?
“I’m enjoying myself.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Adrian groaned.
“Not you too.”
Ollie smiled.
“Fine. Forget it.”
A woman entered the bar.
Tall, graceful, wearing a dark green dress.
She looked around until she spotted Adrian.
Her face brightened.
“That Lauren?”
Adrian stood.
“Yes.”
Ollie glanced between them.
“She’s gorgeous.”
“I have eyes.”
Lauren approached.
“Adrian?”
He smiled.
“Lauren.”
She kissed his cheek.
Then looked at Ollie.
“Am I interrupting?”
Ollie stood.
“Absolutely not. I was just leaving.”
He shook Lauren’s hand.
“Oliver.”
“Lauren.”
Ollie turned toward Adrian.
“Behave yourself, Stud Man.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Lauren’s eyebrows rose.
“Stud Man?”
“Ollie.”
“I’m leaving.”
He disappeared into the crowd.
Lauren looked amused.
“I feel like there’s a story there.”
“There isn’t.”
“I’m definitely asking later.”
Adrian smiled.
“Drink?”
“Whisky.”
“Interesting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Wine.”
“Disappointed?”
“Impressed.”
Lauren smiled.
“Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
The evening came easily.
Lauren was intelligent, funny, and refreshingly direct.
She worked in corporate law and had recently ended a long relationship.
“I am not looking for another one,” she told Adrian.
“Neither am I.”
“Good.”
“No complications.”
“Perfect.”
“No expectations.”
She lifted her glass.
“To uncomplicated decisions.”
Adrian touched his glass to hers.
“To uncomplicated decisions.”
It should have been perfect.
And for several weeks, it was.
Lauren understood the arrangement better than anyone Adrian had dated casually.
She didn’t call constantly.
Didn’t ask where he was.
Didn’t complain when work came first.
They met when they wanted.
Separated when they didn’t.
Adrian liked her.
That was the problem.
He began looking forward to seeing her.
Not simply because he desired her.
Because he enjoyed talking to her.
One evening, they sat on the floor of his apartment eating takeaway after midnight.
Lauren stole a piece of chicken from his plate.
Adrian frowned.
“You have your own.”
“Yours tastes better.”
“It’s identical.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind.”
“You’re a thief.”
“Call the police.”
Adrian laughed.
Lauren looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’ve never seen you laugh like that.”
“Like what?”
“Properly.”
Adrian’s smile faded.
“I laugh.”
“You perform.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re charming when you want to be. Funny. Confident.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“But you’re always slightly guarded.”
Adrian looked away.
Lauren continued.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a locked door wearing an expensive shirt.”
He laughed.
“That is unnecessarily specific.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
Adrian reached for his drink.
“You analyse people too much.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled.
Lauren watched him.
“Who hurt you?”
The question landed harder than it should have.
Adrian’s expression changed.
“That’s a cliché.”
“Usually clichés exist for a reason.”
“Nobody.”
“Liar.”
Adrian stood.
“You want coffee?”
Lauren sighed.
“See?”
“See what?”
“The door.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
The conversation ended.
But the question didn’t.
Two weeks later, Lauren called him on a Tuesday evening.
“Come over.”
Adrian was working.
“Can’t.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Meeting.”
“Thursday?”
“Probably working late.”
Silence.
Then Lauren said, “Are you avoiding me?”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
He leaned back.
The truth was uncomfortable.
Since the conversation in his apartment, something had changed.
Lauren had come too close.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
And Adrian had instinctively stepped away.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’re always busy.”
“I told you that from the beginning.”
“Yes.”
Her voice became quieter.
“You also told me this would be honest.”
“It is.”
“Then be honest.”
Adrian said nothing.
Lauren did it for him.
“You like me.”
He stared at his laptop.
“Of course I like you.”
“No. You actually like me.”
“Lauren—”
“And that scares you more than sleeping with a dozen women ever could.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t psychoanalyse me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Fine.”
She paused.
“Do you want me to stop calling?”
The old Adrian would have immediately reassured her.
This Adrian didn’t.
Maybe because he knew what the correct answer was.
“Yes.”
Silence.
He hated how quickly regret followed the word.
Lauren breathed out.
“Wow.”
“You asked.”
“I did.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“No.”
Her voice was calm.
“You’re trying very hard not to let me hurt you.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Lauren.”
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t about you.”
“I know.”
That somehow made it worse.
“I knew what you were when we started,” she said.
Adrian’s eyes opened.
“What I’m what?”
She hesitated.
“Your reputation.”
Something cold moved through him.
“You mean Stud Man.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Most women in our circle do.”
Adrian almost laughed.
“Fantastic.”
“But I thought there might be more underneath it.”
“There isn’t.”
The lie came too easily.
Lauren was silent.
Then she said, “That’s a shame.”
The call ended.
Adrian sat alone.
His laptop remained open.
Code filled the screen.
Normally, work could swallow anything he didn’t want to feel.
Tonight, it couldn’t.
He picked up his phone.
Opened Lauren’s contact.
Stopped.
His thumb hovered over the call button.
Then he locked the screen.
Rules existed for a reason.
No attachment.
No dependency.
No vulnerability.
Lauren had started crossing lines Adrian couldn’t allow anyone to cross.
Ending it was sensible.
Safe.
Necessary.
So why did it feel so familiar?
His phone vibrated.
For one ridiculous second, Adrian hoped it was Lauren.
It wasn’t.
A message from a woman he had met at a launch party.
Nina: Are you free tonight?
Adrian stared at it.
Then typed:
Give me an hour.
He stood and walked toward his bedroom.
By eleven, he was dressed.
By midnight, he was drinking in a crowded lounge.
By one, Nina was laughing against his shoulder.
By two, Adrian had almost convinced himself that Lauren didn’t matter.
Almost.
Across the room, Ollie watched him.
Adrian noticed.
Their eyes met.
Ollie didn’t smile.
Didn’t raise his glass.
Didn’t call him Stud Man.
He simply looked disappointed.
Adrian turned away.
He put his arm around Nina and ordered another drink.
The Stud Man had rules.
And the most important one was becoming clearer every day.
Whenever a woman got close enough to meet Adrian Cole…
he made sure she met the Stud Man instead.
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