Because of Lucy: 2016 Revised Edition (Butterfly Days #1)

by Lisa Swallow

  Evan leans into the door and picks a pile of papers and empty fast-food wrappers off the seat, tossing them into the back where he’s built up quite a collection. When Evan steps back, he accidentally brushes his chest against mine as he turns around. Instantly I flush, the hard warmth of the muscles beneath his T-shirt send a shock through me. It’s been a while since I came into contact with a guy and I tell myself that’s the only reason I react like this. Evan grins and I look away.

  “Get in, you’re getting soaked,” he says.

  I slide onto the threadbare seat and put my bag on my knees, kicking empty water bottles in the footwell to one side.

  “Not as nice as yours, huh?” he asks.

  Was I obvious that I wondered how this car managed to get to the end of the street, never mind half way across the city? I wish mine were older; my year-old blue Polo stands out too much amongst the beaten-up cars in the street. I’m waiting for someone to steal it, someone apart from my housemate.

  “Thanks for this,” I mumble.

  “No problem. I feel like I have to make up to you for something, although I’m not sure what.”

  Evan’s brow furrows as he says this, and as he manoeuvres the steering wheel, I’m distracted by the muscles in his forearms, his skin glistening from the rain. I blink away an image of me touching him. Some guys just exude sexuality, engulfing you when you’re around them, even when you don’t like them. Exactly like Evan.

  “I can’t remember your name,” he says and side glances me.

  “Vanessa.”

  He nods and leans over to switch on the radio. The Killers blasting into the car fills the less than comfortable space between us. I could’ve told him Ness, but I’m not Ness to him. I’m only Ness to my friends.

  “How do you know Abby?” he asks.

  “We went to school together our whole lives.”

  “You’re very different to her.”

  I fiddle with the air vent in front of me, wanting warm air on my damp clothes. “Yeah, different families.”

  Different parts of town. My parents tried to ban me seeing Abby when we hit fourteen; they decided she was the proverbial bad friend leading me down the wrong path. Little did they know I was the one stealing alcohol from their overflowing drinks cabinet in an attempt to escape the constant pressure to be the best I could. I had my parents on my back the whole time, nagging me about study, achieving. Why? To be like them and working so much, they never saw their children?

  “Couldn’t stand to be apart, eh?” he said. “I have a friend like that. Hard to let go of everything from home, I guess.”

  “Not really.”

  The car idles at a red light and I delve into my bag and check the time on my phone. I should be okay now I don’t need to take the bus. Evan taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Not much of a conversationalist,” he says.

  I inhale. His scent fills the car, his dampened T-shirt releasing the spiced fragrance. The sickly smell of pot and stale beer detracts from the appeal.

  “I’m tired,” I reply.

  “Yeah?” A stray damp curl falls into his eye as he turns his face to me. His expression is blank.

  “Something to do with having a late shift, and then someone being in my bed all night.”

  “Really?” His tone changes and eyes sparkle. “Someone keep you awake all night?”

  Omigod, he thinks… “No!” I say a little too hastily and he smirks. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Evan’s eyes widen, and his brow dips in confusion. He scrutinises my face in a way that pools heat deep inside my stomach. “Shit. Sorry… No, I don’t remember. Look, I didn’t mean to—”

  “No! Not you… Not anyone! What I meant was you don’t remember talking to me. Not that we…”

  Evan exhales. “Thank god for that, I thought I’d done it again.”

  “Done what?”

  “Sometimes… I forget.” The traffic moves on again.

  “Forget?”

  Evan wrinkles his nose. “Things I do. Sleeping with people and stuff. When I’m off my face, like I was last night, I can’t help it; but sometimes I forget who I was with.”

  “That’s disgusting.” I look out at the passing cars.

  “The girls don’t mind.”

  “Sure they don’t,” I say with sarcasm. “Girls love being used and disrespected.”

  The rest of the journey passes in silence. I lean my head on the cool windowpane and listen to the tyres splashing through puddles, the loud hum of his engine. What annoys me the most isn’t Evan’s nonchalance over his offensive behaviour but why his words bother me. Many guys I’ve come across amongst Abby’s new friends behave the same, because they can, but having sex with people and forgetting…ugh. Evan probably only offered me a lift so he could line me up as his next conquest.

  My irritation turns to anxiety not to be late as we approach the industrial centre. Evan pulls up outside the hangar-sized, rectangular building stretching out in front of us. The sun attempts to break from behind the grey clouds and I step out into a puddle.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” I say begrudgingly, leaning into the car.

  Evan turns to me, the frown he’s had on his face for the last twenty minutes still present. “I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

  I open my mouth to tell him what I think of his attitude, watching for a sly smile or wink. There isn’t one. Is he contrite or trying to hit on me?

  “Goodbye, Evan. Thanks again.” I close the door with a satisfying slam.

  My footsteps slap across the wet car park as I pull myself tall and stride away. I know Evan’s watching because his car engine idles behind me.

  3

  NESS

  I trudge along the pavement from the bus stop, thankful the black clouds hold onto their rain on my walk home. Dusk falls over the dirty street, and the front of my house disappears into the shadows. The bus journey adds an extra thirty minutes to the trip home from work and I curse Abby under my breath as I hear her laughter when I open the front door.

  Dropping my bag on the floor, I flop into the nearest armchair. Male voices in the kitchen dampen the relief I’m home. I hope Abby and her friends go out soon, and she comes back alone.

  Abby pokes her heavily made-up face around the doorway, deep pink lips pursed in apology. “I put petrol in your car.”

  I kick off a shoe. “Don’t ask to borrow it again.”

  “Ever?”

  “Not in the near future.”

  Abby walks over with a large mug and sets it on the table next to me. “Here. I really am sorry.”

  In a short halter neck dress barely covering the tops of her legs and her long brown hair straightened down her back, I no longer need to ask Abby if she’s going out tonight.

  “Thanks.” I sip the tea.

  Matt walks into the room, beer bottle in hand, and passes Abby one of the highly coloured alcoholic drinks she likes; the kind that stains her mouth red like the lollies we ate as kids and tastes the same.

  “Hey, Ness,” he says. “Want a better drink than coffee?”

  Matt is ready for a night out too; his blue checked shirt is buttoned over his broad chest, his long legs ending in expensive shoes. He latched onto Abby in Freshers’ Week, and I don’t like him much because something about him is too nice. I don’t believe guys can be as devoted and so quickly. But Matt calls her his girlfriend, and she appears to be his only one. He squeezes Abby’s backside and leans in for a kiss. I look away as his hands wander.

  “Ness? Like the monster?” A pair of denim-clad legs descends the stairs. Evan. He raises an eyebrow quizzically at me, and I try not to appreciate the effort he’s made for his evening out, or how much sexier he looks in his well-cut shirt, and with smoothly shaven skin. I shrug the thought away; no wonder he has no problem finding girls to fill his bed.

  I ignore his schoolyard comment. “Thanks for this morning.”

  Walking past Abby into the kitchen, I
mentally kick myself at the way my body has flared with the desire to touch him. My stupid hormones need to remember this guy has sex with girls and forgets.

  “Have fun tonight, guys,” I say, my back turned.

  “It’s Friday…” Abby says from behind me, a whine in her tone.

  “I know, so I can’t get pissed off when you bring home half the university with you.”

  “No, I mean, why aren’t you coming out? It’s the weekend.”

  Can’t Abby see the dark circles around my eyes, caused by a week of interrupted sleep, and eight-hour shifts in the battery farm that calls itself a call centre? I turn to her and point at my face. “I’m tired, Abby. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Turning back, I inspect the contents of the fridge, hoping to find ingredients for a quick meal. Only a carton of milk and half a loaf of bread remain, and everything I bought yesterday has disappeared. I inhale and tell myself yet again moving in here was a big mistake.

  Abby picks up on my thoughts, makes a small ‘humph’ noise, and leaves before I can say anything. Evan steps forward and leans against the doorframe, a lot more upright than our last encounter in the kitchen.

  “You should come out. Relax,” he says.

  “I’d prefer to relax at home and make the most of the peace and quiet.”

  “You don’t have to come out all night,” calls Abby from the room behind him. “We’re going to the pub first. You can go home after that, if you don’t want to join us clubbing.”

  “Sounds like a plan?” suggests Evan. Why is he trying to persuade me to go on a night out with them?

  I turn and pull some pasta from the cupboard, then pull a pan from the drainer by the sink. “No, thanks.”

  “You can buy me that drink.”

  Pausing, I turn, pan in hand. “What drink?”

  “The one you’re going to buy me to say thank you.”

  I’m about to give him a mouthful for his arrogance but he gives me a look—the look I’m sure has charmed scores of girls into bed. Childishly cheeky lopsided grin topped off with sparkling eyes.

  He can forget trying that on me. “Maybe another time.”

  “Okay.” He turns his charm face back off and returns to his friend. For some reason, I’m annoyed he didn’t try harder.

  Ten minutes later, I’m standing over simmering pasta, listening to the voices from the lounge. I weigh up in my head whether to go out. Back home I’d never miss a Friday night out. Maybe I could manage a couple of drinks, if just me and Abby went, but I don’t want to be with strangers; I’ve seen enough of her student cohorts for this week.

  “We’re leaving in five minutes,” says Abby, appearing in the door. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

  “I have to eat.”

  “We’ll wait.”

  “Who’s going?”

  Abby shrugs. “Not sure. A few are going to the Union but I know you don’t like going there. We’re going to meet most of them at Ritzy’s.” She spots my hesitation. “Go on, I feel crap about this morning. I want to spend some time with you; I’ve hardly seen you all week. We can go for a quiet drink at the pub first.”

  I look over her shoulder to where Matt rests back on the sofa, legs on the table, joking around with Evan. I highly doubt she’ll spend much time with me if she’s with Matt. They face our direction and Evan watches me. I meet his eyes, daring him to keep looking, and for the first time, the definition of the word smoulder makes sense to me. The creeping heat starts on my cheeks so I break his gaze.

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” huffs Abby.

  Evan replaces Abby in the doorway again. His crisp blue shirt stretches across his chest and I attempt not to picture the abs I saw last night. No. I refuse to find him sexy. But the brown eyes are fixed on me again.

  “You’re upsetting her,” he says in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been talking all evening about taking you out, apologising. She thinks you’re pissed off with her, and doesn’t want to fight with you.”

  I blink. “She told you this?”

  “I can tell. Come on. I’m sure a couple of drinks won’t kill you.”

  I consider the pasta congealing behind me, and the prospect of sitting alone in a house I’m not a hundred percent comfortable in yet. Leeds is a new world, not just a city a few hundred miles from home. The darkening evening and unfamiliar surroundings clinch my decision. Not Evan’s inviting smile. Definitely not.

  “Okay, I’ll get changed.”

  Evan’s grin widens. “Cool. I bet you’re one of those girls who’s ready in five minutes anyway.”

  I consider this statement as I walk upstairs. He means either I look good already or I’ve no chance of making myself look half-decent. I wish I knew which.

  * * *

  EVAN

  “I was joking about the drink,” I say to Vanessa as she sets a pint on the table in front of me.

  She perches on one of the uncomfortable round stools opposite me. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say.”

  Vanessa changed from her work uniform into jeans and a simple black top. The top distracts me because her breasts push against the thin material and my attention is caught by the lace outline of the top of her bra. My gaze meets hers again and the look she gives suggests she’s aware I was checking her out and noticing more than the fact the deep green accentuates her eyes. Her full lips shine invitingly with a hint of lip-gloss—not helpful. Great, now I’ve been caught staring at her tits and fantasising about what she could do with her mouth.

  We’ve chosen a pub close to the university, and the look on Vanessa’s face when we walked in indicated Abby should’ve picked somewhere a little less student filled. The venue is narrow, a bar down the centre and small wooden tables with stools along the edges. This is very handy if you don’t want to lose sight of anyone, but problematic if you want personal space. Abby and Matt hang at the bar while Matt chats to a group of friends. I recognise a couple from our halls and wave; I’ve mixed feelings about sitting alone with Vanessa.

  “Okay, what happened?” I ask, taking a long drink.

  “When?”

  “This thing I did that upset you.”

  She straightens and fixes me with the look I received earlier today. “You inferred I’m stupid. And that I sound like the Queen.”

  I laugh. “I’ve no idea about the stupid part, but yeah, you sound like the Queen. A bit.”

  Vanessa narrows her eyes at me but a smile hints around the corner of her mouth. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m a Northerner. You posh chicks all sound like the Queen.”

  The smile disappears. “You don’t have a lot of respect for women, do you?”

  Where the hell did that come from? Her words irritate me, considering my life so far. “I have a lot of respect for women.”

  She snorts. “I’m not a chick. Women aren’t chicks.”

  “Ah. Okay.”

  Jeez…

  “And the other stuff. Sleeping with girls, not remembering what you did the next day.”

  “You don’t know enough about me to judge me.”

  Abby arrives with her drink and I scan the pub for Matt. He’s still at the bar, chatting to a group from our department. I consider joining them, but Abby wanders back to him.

  Vanessa watches her, mouth open then begins to drink quickly.

  “Thirsty?” I ask.

  “I don’t want to stay here if Abby isn’t going to sit with me. I knew she’d do this.” Her gaze is fixed on Matt and Abby at the bar.

  “My company that bad?”

  She doesn’t reply; she looks as if it’s Abby’s turn for Vanessa’s death stares.

  “For the record, I don’t think you’re stupid,” I say.

  “Really.”

  “Abby tells me you chose not to go to uni, even though you’re smart.” I continue, “Why do that?”

  Vanessa
shrugs. “Freedom.”

  “Freedom? By working in a crap job? Not my definition.”

  “Yes. Freedom from the stress of being what I don’t want to be. For not being what someone else wants me to be.”

  “Parents?”

  “Yep.”

  I nod even though I can’t completely understand. I understand the need to escape the stranglehold of the past; I’m with her on that one. But why choose to work, instead of a few years of student freedom, before the real world hits?

  “What did your parents want you to be?” I ask.

  “A doctor.”

  “Whoa. You’re definitely not stupid!”

  She smiles weakly. “I changed my mind at the last minute. Passed the entrance exams and everything. So sick of the nagging and how I should do better than my older brother. He studied an arts degree, which is an embarrassment to the family.”

  I stiffen. “I’m studying an arts degree…”

  She rubs her reddening cheek. “I didn’t mean that…”

  “That I’m stupid? Come full circle haven’t we?” Hostility tinges my words and her porcelain skin reddens further.

  “No, that’s my parents’ opinion. Not mine.” She gulps from her glass. “I didn’t picture you as an arts student,” she says.

  “No?”

  “More sports science or something.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You look…” She grabs for words. “Fit. I mean healthy fit. Not…”

  Lowering my voice, I say, “Sexy fit?”

  I consider turning on my charms to see how far I can push her because she’s flustered from her belief she’s insulted me. Vanessa isn’t my usual type, but there’s something about her I’m beginning to find very interesting. She’s a challenge. So, I smile my smile. The one they love.

  Vanessa folds her arms over her gorgeous tits. “I’m not interested.”

  I laugh at her, at the fact she doesn’t realise she’s thrown the gauntlet down between us with those words. “Fair enough.”