Feeling dubious about it, I hesitate. I don’t want to seem ungrateful but the last thing I want to do is eat dinner with Zeff. I barely know him for starters, and yes I know he saved my life and is helping me get a passport, blah blah, but to be honest, it just feels kind of … odd. Everything about this feels odd.
I know him killing a vampire to save my life would be considered ‘odd’ to most people, well pretty much everyone, but to me, unfortunately, that is fast becoming the norm. Going out for dinner, well, that’s now my ‘odd’.
He sees my hesitation. With his black eyebrow raised and irony in his voice he says, “You do eat don’t you? I know rabbit is more your taste, but I was thinking something simpler.”
“Sure I eat – it’s just …”
Smirk. “Just what?”
“Just … I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It’s not a good idea to eat, or to eat with me?”
Bracing myself with a deep breath, I say, “You.”
If I hurt his feelings it doesn’t show. He lets out a short laugh and places his hands on the counter top, linking them together.
I move back.
“I’m not asking you out on a date, Bunny. I just happen to be hungry and I thought I could talk to you about the passport while I did that. You know, two birds one stone. But don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.” Then he pauses, “Actually, thinking about it, do you need to …” He gives a quick glance around, and leans in closer, lowering his voice, “Stock up?”
I nod.
Continuing in a quiet voice, knowing I’ll hear him loud and clear, says, “The woods surrounding my lodge are great for hunting. They’ll be safe for you. I can pick you up later so you can hunt and I’ll fill you in then.”
And then I just feel like a prize bitch. It practically comes up and slaps me in the face. Zeff is being nice to me. Going out of his way for me, constantly, and I can’t even accept his invitation to eat a simple meal with him while him updates me on the thing he’s kindly going out of his way to help me out with.
God, I’m such a bitch at times.
“You know what,” I say, quickly changing tact. “I am kind of hungry. Dinner would be great.” I give the clock another glance. “And my times nearly up now. Will you wait for me in your car?”
I hope I don’t come off as sounding rude, I just don’t want him hanging in here any longer than necessary. Celine has been eyeing him curiously for the last few minutes while we’ve been talking.
Zeff is the kind of guy who attracts attention from females, and quite probably males too, and I don’t want her talking to him. I’m sure he wouldn’t say anything about me, especially with him being a hunter himself. But Celine has got a pretty face, huge cleavage, and legs that go on forever, and men can lose all sense when around those things.
And Celine is also incredibly nosey. She knows the bare minimum about me, well the lies I told her, and I don’t want that to change anytime soon.
Zeff gives me a smile. “Sure. See you in five.”
“Wait.” I turn to the coffee machine and fill a to-go cup, and press a lid on it. “On the house,” I say handing it over.
“Thanks,” he smiles.
The second he’s left the café Celine totters over in her crazy heels for a job where you’re on your feet all day.
“Wasn’t he in here the other day?” she questions.
I shrug, a noncommittal response.
“Now that is one hot piece of ass,” she continues, eyes watching him through the window as he crosses the road and climbs in his car.
Celine doesn’t mince her words. I don’t know if it’s the American in her, or just her.
A small part of me does envy her straightforwardness though. I used to be like her, not as brash, but somewhere close. But now I have to keep all my doors tightly sealed shut. I can’t be the person I used to be.
“Can’t say I noticed,” I utter, turning away to wipe the coffee machine down.
She laughs, “Yeah, sure you haven’t. Do you know him?”
“Kind of. We just met recently.” He saved me from a hungry vampire.
“You dating him?”
I stop wiping and cast a glance at her over my shoulder, “No.”
She quirks her eyebrow at me. “You intending to?”
“No.”
She purses her lips, smiling. “Well if you’re crazy enough to not wanna tap that hot tamale then I sure am gonna.”
With a giggle and a wink she waltzes off into the back, her heels clicking like an annoying tune, against the floor.
Ignoring her comment I finish cleaning up the coffee machine, grab my rucksack from under the counter, and make my way out to Zeff’s shiny black BMW X5.
Chapter 6: A Slice
It turns out dinner is pizza, and it’s the best pizza I have ever tasted. Seriously. I’m honestly considering a marriage proposal to the chef.
And no matter how much I may hate to admit it, I’m actually enjoying having dinner with Zeff. It’s been so long since I’ve sat down and eaten a meal with someone – so long since I’ve had a real conversation with someone. And he knows exactly what I am. There’s no hiding, no pretence, well apart from the fact my real name is Alex Jones, I’m on the run and am technically dead to pretty much everyone who knew and loved me. But yeah, apart from that, it’s great.
“So it’ll be a week for the passport and your friend can do it for seven hundred euros?” I echo the words just spoken by Zeff.
I pick up another slice of pizza and take a bite. Oh God, this pizza really is heaven; heaven with a capital H.
“That’s what he said.”
I swallow down my mouthful, put the half-eaten slice back on the plate and lean back in my seat. “Does he take payment in instalments?” I add a little laugh at the end, but it just comes out sounding weak.
Finished with his own pizza, he wipes his mouth with a paper napkin. The guy really does eat quickly; I’m only half into mine. I’d be surprised if his stomach has had time to digest it. He chuckles and throws his screwed up napkin onto his empty plate. “How much are you short?”
I do a quick count in my head. “Not so much short, this week’s earnings at the café, coupled with the money I already have will cover it, it’s just … I never travel without a set four hundred euros on me. It’d mean staying on another couple of weeks to earn the money to travel.”
“That so bad?”
I pull a face, letting him know exactly how bad that thought is. I don’t want to be here for this week, let alone two more. I want to get as far away from this place as possible.
“So I’ll give it to you.”
“And why would you do that?” That came out sounding more like an accusation than a question.
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. Contemplating me from across the table, he compresses his lips together.
“I’m sorry. That sounded … look I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” I lay my palms flat out on the table. “And thanks all the same for the offer, but I can’t take your money. I’ll figure something out.”
“Fair enough.” He nods. “Just know the offer’s there if you change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind. Just tell your friend to go ahead with the passport, I’ll have his money for him … and then I’m out of here no matter what,” I add on quietly at the end. I lean forward in my seat and set about my pizza again.
I’ll figure something out. I always do. I’ve got myself this far, I can and will keep going.
Zeff pulls a sleek black iPhone from his trouser pocket, dials, and puts the phone to his ear.
“It’s Zeff … go ahead with that thing we spoke about earlier … sure … okay … I’ll be in touch later.” He disconnects the call and places his phone on the table beside his water glass.
Catching my eye, he says, “He needs a photo. One of those passport booth ones.” His voice sounds slightly stilted.
“I’ll get on
e done tomorrow.”
“And he wants a deposit up front. Three hundred euros.”
“I’ll give that to you tomorrow with the photo.”
He leans back in his chair. I take a drink of water from my glass, washing my pizza down, then grab another slice.
Zeff is tapping his fingernail against the screen on his phone. The sound is kind of annoying. I look at him. He’s face is impassive but he’s glancing around the restaurant. Looking everywhere, but me, basically.
He’s clearly pissed off about something. I can see it in his moving eyes. Scanning my memory I recall what I’ve said in the last few minutes.
It must have upset him when I rejected his offer of money. Probably the, ‘I won’t change my mind’, pissy attitude that sealed it.
I didn’t figure him for the sensitive kind. But even so, he doesn’t deserve it from me. In the two short days I’ve known Zeff, he’s saved me from a vampire, patched me up, fed me, and has been nothing but nice to me. And I’ve bitten his head off at every turn, and all because of my own issues. Yet again, I’ve been nothing shy of a bitch to him.
I put my pizza back down on the plate, suddenly losing my appetite, and let out a long breath. “Look, Zeff, I’m sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you since we met … well, basically since you saved me from – you know what.”
He swivels dark eyes to meet my gaze, “I wouldn’t say you’ve been a complete bitch.” A smile starts to filter its way onto his lips.
“Only a partial bitch?” I raise an eyebrow.
He lets out a laugh. It eases the tension right out of the air.
I smile at him.
He leans forward, elbows resting on the table, and looks me straight in the eye. “Look, all I see is a nice girl who’s had a seemingly shitty time of things.” His voice is low, deep. “So, I think I can afford her a couple of bitch moments.”
He shrugs, lightly. His voice, the low tone, the words, I don’t know maybe all three combined, have this odd effect on me. I don’t even know why, or how to even explain it, because it’s not like he’s said something profoundly deep which will change the course of my life forever. It was just something small. Kind. And those two short sentences he’s just spoken have reached into me, like a healing hand, and soothed that raw wounded part of me. Easing the pain, even if for a short while.
For a moment I can’t stop staring at him. His eyes lock and widen in my gaze. Awakening, I blink myself free.
Shifting in my seat I pick my pizza up and put it straight back down. I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. I’m like a recent quitter of cigarettes who’s going through that ‘no clue what to do with my hands’ phase. I just keep picking up things on the table; the pepper shaker, my knife, the napkin, and putting them straight back down.
I can see Zeff eyeing me curiously. I force my hands onto my lap, binding them together.
“Thanks,” I finally say. My voice has gone hoarse. I cough my clogged throat clear, then take a sip of water.
His eyes are still on me.
I’m not sure what to do. I just feel really awkward. The moment’s gone from shitty, to light, to ridiculously intense in the space of ten seconds. It’s like having a conversation with Nathan.
Nathan.
Oh no. I’m already wide open, so when that familiar pang of longing for him hits, it stabs me hard in the chest, rocking me to my core. And I’m right back to square one.
I’m losing my breath. I can’t breathe. I can feel blood rushing to my head, ringing in my ears, making me hot.
I stand abruptly. My chair scrapes loudly against the hard floor. Zeff’s dark eyes follow me up, with an expected element of surprise. I know just exactly how weird I’m acting right now. And also what he must be thinking.
That I’m odd. And a bit nuts. He wouldn’t be far wrong. But I also don’t care at this very moment, either.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I thumb awkwardly over my shoulder, practically tripping over my own feet as I hightail it to the ladies room.
I splash cold water over my face from the tap as I try to regain some composure. What the hell was that all about? A kind word from a nice guy and I’m shot all over the place like a rogue bullet.
Not that I’m not well aware I’m already slightly crazy, but I am now starting to believe I’ve lost my shit completely. I just wish I was past this; past Nathan. I’m driving myself nuts.
Sometimes I feel like he’s in my head, to the point of haunting me. If I didn’t know better I would think he is a ghost, because I see him everywhere and in everything.
I’ve been pretty sure on a decent sized handful of occasions that I’ve seen him in the street, or when passing by a shop window, seeing his reflection clearly in it.
I know it’s just because he is in my head constantly but it doesn’t make it any easier.
When I left that night, I did it believing that I could live without him, in the knowledge that he was safe and alive. Turns out I actually can’t live without him, period.
Just knowing he’s out there, living his life, is way more difficult than I ever anticipated. I want him to be happy, sure I do, that’s the reason I walked away. But that doesn’t mean the thought of him happy, without me, doesn’t make me feel like complete and utter crap.
After six months of no contact with Nathan, any normal person would be over him, or at least have had it lessen their feelings for him to a huge degree. But no, not me. I still feel exactly the same about him as I did back then. I’m still completely and ridiculously in love with him. Or maybe now, I’m just in love with the idea of him. I don’t know.
All I do know is, mentally, I’m still stuck in that hotel room with my hand on the door handle, teetering between the room with Nathan in it, and the big bad world without him. I know I somehow managed to get my skinny ass physically out of that room. Now I just need to get my heart to follow too.
If I were an outsider looking in at me, I’d think I was seriously pathetic and would have slapped myself stupid by now. I need the sense beaten into me until it sticks.
Splashing cold water on my face again, I wash away my thoughts. Grabbing paper towels out of the unit beside the sink, I dry my face. Allowing myself a few deep cleansing breaths, I dump the paper towels in the bin and exit the bathroom, heading back to Zeff.
A waiter is standing at our table with a card machine in his hand; a different guy from the one who served us I note, and Zeff is currently paying the bill.
He looks up as I approach, “You okay?”
Briefly meeting his eyes, I nod. “Yes.”
Then I notice our table has been cleared. They’ve taken the half a pizza I had left. Gutted. But then again I don’t think I could have finished it with the way my stomach is churning over. Still, a doggie bag would have been awesome, you know, so I could eat it later.
“The remainder of your pizza is being boxed up,” Zeff says, almost if as reading my mind.
“Oh, great, thanks.” That actually raises a smile from me.
“We can head over to my lodge now if you want to get started on that … thing?” he says, as I sit back in my seat.
I know he was just trying to be discreet in front of the waiter, but the way he said it makes it sound like an innuendo. Which it is, kind of, but not the type the waiter clearly thinks it is, because from the looks he’s casting between me and Zeff, I take it he speaks English, and well.
So yes, I’m pretty sure he thinks Zeff and me are off to have sex after this. I mean, really, as if Zeff would be so open about it if we were actually going to, or maybe that’s the kind of clientele they’re used to in here. And even though it’s not true, I can feel my cheeks starting to burn.
I’m getting that guilty feeling thing happening, you know the one where you know you’re not guilty of something but you can’t help but worry people will think you are, so your face goes bright red, incorrectly incriminating you. Yep, that’s what’s happening right now.
And now Z
eff has latched onto it, because I can see the amusement spreading across his features.
I pick my water up and take a sip trying to cool my face, using it to hide behind.
Zeff takes his credit card back from the waiter.
“So,” he says to me, in an even tone, “have you got everything you need with you for the … party?”
“Huh?” I utter, my lip stuck on the glass.
He’s looking at me evenly, “You know.” The waiter is lingering near the table, in the pretence of doing something on the card reader, blatantly listening in. “The things you need to get started - the rubber tubing … wet wipes … oh yeah, and the spade.”
I choke on the little bit of water in my mouth. The waiter snorts. I glare at him. He quickly walks off.
I stare at Zeff, “What did you say that for?”
“What?” he shrugs, feigning innocence, a smile playing on his lips in innocence.
I shake my head, clearly pissed off.
“You shouldn’t have said that. He could take what you said seriously. I can’t have people finding out what I am,” I hiss over the table.
“Come on Bunny, I was just playing. He thought we were hooking up for something kinky and I was just winding him up, nothing more. Don’t worry.”
“More like winding me up,” I snap. “And I do worry.” I lean forward. “Because I have to. All the time.” I sit back, shaking my head, adding, “That was a wanker’s trick you just pulled then.”
And yes, a waiter has just come with my pizza box as I said the word, wanker. A different waiter this time. And at least this one has the courtesy to pretend he didn’t hear, or maybe honestly doesn’t speak English.
Original Sin Page 5