by Lisa Swallow
“Matt’s a big boy and makes his own decisions.”
“Abby, let’s go home.” Ness touches her friend on the shoulder and Abby shrugs her hand off.
“No, I want to watch. See what he’s doing. Who he’s doing.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Ness, and I voice my agreement.
“No! We came for a night out. He’s not spoiling it.” Abby knocks back the contents of the half-empty glass. “What do you want to drink? I’ll get them,” she says to Ness.
“Maybe I should go to the bar,” she replies.
“Or I’ll get you one?” I offer. The look on Abby’s face indicates my association with Matt has dragged me into the depths of Hell. “Or not.”
Ness covers her mouth, and I can see amusement in her eyes. Pushing back her stool, Abby stands and stumbles to the bar.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask Ness.
“The situation.”
I stay where I am, focusing away from any body part, which could earn me a slap if I linger my gaze there. Her eyes meet mine, and they’re swimming a little.
Ness sips her drink. “Are you staying or loitering?”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.” I pull out the stool opposite her.
“Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
No, I never got the chance. “True.”
I set down my drink and sit. Ness studies each move I make, watching my hands as I take a drink.
“How’s poetry class?” she asks.
“Fine. How’s the battery farm?”
“Painful.”
Funny how we have a greeting and a shared joke. “I didn’t think you came to the Union because you hated being amongst the student masses?”
“I don’t, but Abby insisted. She’s not had a night out since your friend dumped her. If I’d said no, she’d probably have locked herself in her bedroom with ice-cream for another two weeks.”
I grin at her Ness view of the world. “Having fun yet?”
“Immense. Nothing brightens an evening like watching your best friend make a drunken embarrassment of herself.”
I’ve missed talking to Ness, her clever humour. Hopefully, I haven’t blown my chances completely because she was eager enough when we kissed. Ness’s vanilla perfume hangs in the air evoking a memory of holding her and the softness of her lips as we kissed.
“You look good tonight,” I say.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Thank you.”
“You do.” I thought girls liked compliments?
“So, which girl are you screwing?”
Ness and her out of the blue questions. I’m caught off guard by her, as usual. “None. No one, recently. And let’s not start playing that broken record again.”
A smile edges onto her face. “I told you before, try poetry if you’re not having any success. Girls love that crap.”
“You’re funny, Ness.”
Ness takes a drink and looks at the table. I can’t figure out what I’ve said wrong. I dip my head in an attempt to catch her eye.
“And you’re strange,” she says, looking directly at me, in the unsettling way she does.
“Strange?”
Ness sips from her glass. Her cheeks are flushed; I don’t think she’s much soberer than her friend. “That night. When you kissed me, you ran away.”
She has an uncanny ability to read me. Twice before she caught a glimpse of the something I hide and is doing it again. I look away. “I didn’t run away. I had to go.”
“Why? Who called?”
I shake my head. “No one. It wasn’t important.”
“Not important… But you had to go. Okay. None of my business, I guess.” Ness cranes her neck, searching the crowd for someone or something.
I’ve said something wrong, and I am aware what this time. I told her she was unimportant. Way to go, Evan.
“Serendipity,” I say.
Ness snorts as she turns back to me. “What’s that? Word of the day?”
“Serendipity that I saw you tonight, when I was already thinking about you.”
Ness sinks back in her seat. “Wow, you use the dictionary and poetry in your seduction techniques.”
“If you stopped behaving as if I was going to try and tear your clothes off at the first opportunity, we might have an actual conversation. Get to know each other.”
“You want to get to know me?” Ness sits upright and tips her head to one side. Her face is flushed, but I think that’s the alcohol and not me.
I’m not drunk, but the few beers in my system are making me admit things I’ve not considered. “I do. Yes.”
The weird something from before hovers in the air again, our barriers are wavering.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because you’re different to other girls.”
Ness chokes on her drink. “Are you resorting to clichés now?”
“No.”
Leaning forward she says, “Because I’m a challenge?”
In response, I move my face closer. “No, because you’re Ness, and I like you and I’m sorry I never contacted you before.”
Our heads almost touch as her eyes search mine, gauging my bullshit meter. “Really?”
“Really.”
Neither of us moves and Ness’s breath against my mouth begs me to put my lips on hers again. This girl does weird things to me, and not only physically. She ties my stomach in knots, and she has spent the last few weeks in my dreams. That never happens. Ever.
Ness breaks the moment and sits back. “I need to look after my drunk friend.”
“Okay, can we meet up? Maybe tomorrow?”
I’m waiting for her reply when Abby returns and grabs at Ness’s arm. “I’ve changed my mind! Let’s go! I don’t want to be in the same city as him!”
Ness shrugs at me as Abby pulls her up. As she leaves, Ness walks backwards and calls out to me, “Shame, I was looking forward to more poetry.”
I’m not the only male gaze on her beautiful, round backside as she walks away, and undoubtedly not the only male in the room wanting to get her out of that dress. Abby and Ness stop briefly to chat to a group and one of the guys touches Ness on the arm. The jealousy hitting takes me by surprise, and my resolve over not chasing Ness is edged out by the discomfort of seeing another guy’s hands on her. I don’t think forgetting about Ness is a possibility anymore. She’s a risk I’m willing to take.
11
NESS
Abby drags us away from the Union, and for once, I don’t want to leave at the end of one of Abby’s nights out. The tiny part of me who wished Evan would be at the Union was bigger than I thought, because seeing him again brightened my evening. Other guys hit on me tonight, and male attention flattered me. But Evan did more than look at me as a prospective conquest, he held a conversation with me and asked to meet up again. This puts him in a different box to the one I originally placed him in, and I’m confused. Why didn’t I give him my number?
Abby swaps her ice-cream comfort food for wine and crisps, and yet another viewing of her favourite chick flick. I think that’s Abby’s problem; someone forgot to tell her reality isn’t like the movies. I can’t stand to watch the same movie again; I curl up on the sofa and pick up a nearby book to read.
I also think I had one too many vodkas, because the words on the page blur. This is one of Abby’s romance books: ridiculous girls, falling for buff men, who can magically give the girl multiple orgasms the first time they get down and dirty. No wonder Abby is delusional.
Abby’s phone rings and I jump, engrossed in the book, mid-steamy part. She puts down the bag of crisps and picks her phone up, wiping her fingers as she looks at the screen.
“Bastard.”
Abby throws it down. The phone stops ringing, then immediately starts again.
“Going to answer that?”
“It’s him. Douchebag of the year.”
“I kind of got that. But if you don’t tell Matt to stop, he mi
ght keep ringing.” All night.
Abby pulls the blanket up to her neck. “Nope.” She throws the phone at me. “You answer it.”
“Answer yourself. You’re not twelve!” I switch the phone off and put it on the table.
I return to the book, which I’m forced to admit is more interesting than I expected. This time I’m interrupted by the doorbell. “Abby!” Matt’s voice. Something crashes against the door. Not a fist. Probably his whole body.
I look at Abby who turns up the volume on the TV. Great.
“Matt, come on. Let’s go.”
My stomach twists at Evan’s muffled voice from outside with Matt.
“Oh yay, it’s both of them,” says Abby.
One of them hammers on the door. “Abby! Baby! Let me talk to you!”
The banging takes on a rhythmic beat. I can’t stand the noise for longer than a few minutes, give in, and open the door. Predictably, Matt falls through and onto the carpet. Evan hangs behind him, leaning against my car.
“Take him home,” I say. “I don’t think Abby’s interested in seeing him.”
“I tried. Matt’s off his face and refuses to listen.”
“Try harder.”
Evan steps forward into the light of the doorway and pushes past me, and I catch a hint of his scent, sending memories of his kiss scattering across my mind.
“Come on, man, you’re not wanted.” Evan grabs Matt’s shirt and pulls him into a sitting position.
Guys frequently say how pathetic girls are after break ups. In my experience, scenes like this occur more with guys than girls. Sure, girls sometimes cry and eat junk food until they’re sick, but in the privacy of their own homes. Pathetic, blubbering messes like Matt? That’s a guy thing. Matt mumbles something to himself.
Abby remains on the sofa; no use whatsoever, blanket tucked under her chin. I give her credit for not rushing over to Matt and welcoming him back into her life, but this doesn’t solve the problem of what to do with him.
“How drunk is he?” I ask Evan.
“Do you even need to ask? I’m surprised he made it here.”
“You could’ve stopped him.”
Evan leans against the door, pushing hair from his face. “Yeah, right. He weighs a stone more than me and his determination outweighs my upper body strength.”
I consider the eloquence of Evan’s words. He’s not as drunk as his friend. “Matt’s lucky you’re here to look after him.”
“Story of my life,” he mutters.
Matt slumps back to the floor.
“Sorry. I did try to stop him. I was worried what Matt might get himself into.” He pokes the now snoring mass with his boot. “I think he’s harmless now.”
A strange noise escapes the blanketed figure on the sofa, and a wailing Abby disappears upstairs. Evan blinks and I nod my head to indicate the empty bottle of wine beside the crisp packets.
A loud burp from Matt alerts Evan, and he crouches back down.
“Fuck my life,” says Evan as he manoeuvres Matt into the recovery position. The ease in which he does this suggests Evan has had practice.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask, unsure what we do now.
“Water, please.” Evan sits back on his heels.
When I return from the kitchen with the water, Evan is sitting in the armchair, staring at the ceiling.
“Will he be okay?” I pass Evan the glass.
“Yeah.”
“You’re a good friend.”
He makes a small noise in his throat. “Yeah, too good. Who knows how long it’ll take for him to wake up now.”
“Stay here. You’re welcome to the sofa.”
Evan turns his brown eyes to mine. “Maybe I should go. I don’t know…”
“Staying has never bothered you before. Our sofa was your new best friend a few weeks ago.”
“I feel awkward now.” He looks down at Matt again.
Awkward is the best word to describe the whole situation, from inebriated guy on the floor, to the unspoken situation with Evan.
“Because you kissed me?” I ask, surprised by my words.
“Partly.”
This newer side to Evan intrigues me. Caring for his friend like this. Asking me out in the Union. The guy I thought Evan was would’ve left Matt and slunk home with a girl, but he didn’t.
Now my softening heart—and a lot of vodka—suggest kissing him again.
I flop onto the sofa. “Got some poetry for me, bad boy Byron?”
The troubled look on Evan’s face is replaced by curious interest and he moves to the edge of the sofa arm. Like I did, last time we were in this situation.
“I don’t bite,” I say.
He grins. “That’s predictable.”
The way he remembers our old conversations is cute; most guys don’t even listen. Evan drops into the small gap between the edge of the sofa and me, and my arm is trapped against his side. I wriggle uncomfortably and he shifts around to look at me.
“So, can we continue our conversation from the Union?” he asks.
I’m overwhelmed by the sensation of his body touching mine, wishing my breathing would return to normal. I’m dizzy, and with the alcohol flowing inside me, I want to lean in to Evan and hope he does more than kiss me this time. Perhaps he came because of me, not Matt.
“Sure,” I say instead.
“I have something I want to say to you, Ness.”
Again, Evan’s warmth evokes memories of sitting in exactly the same place once before, except last time his lips were on mine. “What?”
“I let you get the wrong impression about me, and I wish I hadn’t.”
Shut up and kiss me. “Mmm?”
He pulls his head back a little. “You’re quite monosyllabic tonight.”
“That’s a big word for 1 a.m. on a Saturday morning.”
Evan smiles and reaches out, placing his fingers lightly on my cheek. “And that is one of the reasons why I want to get to know you. You’re so…you.”
“Me.” I can’t concentrate on anything apart from his touch and remembering to breathe.
“You’re smart and funny and just awesome.”
“Awesome?” Jesus, I increasingly sound like an idiot.
“Because you don’t care. You do what you want and don’t let anyone stop you.” He looks at my mouth. “You don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”
I take hold of one of Evan’s hands and lace my fingers through his. His mouth is close to mine, his warm breath on my skin. The effect on me is weird, different to before, with other guys. Abby once told me she met this guy who didn’t even need to touch her to arouse her. At the time, I concluded Abby was exaggerating, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe there is something primal, where that can happen between two people; and it’s happening now because the heat floods through my body towards the surface. My skin’s burning where Evan’s hand rests on my face.
Evan’s eyes darken as he meets mine. “Sorry I left last time.”
“Who said I was inviting you to stay last time?”
“Okay. But I did kiss you goodbye.”
Is he teasing me again? Because Evan’s mouth remains a tantalizing distance from mine, and he’s not kissing me. I shift, trying to disguise my rapid breathing and realise he’s waiting for me to make the move. Fine. I place my mouth on his, wriggling closer. Evan winds his hand into my hair, and gently holds my head to his, kissing me lightly, lips sparking power across my skin.
I push myself against Evan, not taking my mouth from his. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer, until I’m half on top of him. I pull my head back and meet his eyes, the hungry look I expected is held in them.
“Are you pinning me down so I can’t leave this time?” he asks.
I smile. “No. You can go now.”
“I think I’ll wait for Matt to wake up.”
With strong, rough hands, he holds my face again and his tongue darts into my mouth, our teeth collide, and I move away f
rom him, holding my mouth. He watches as the dress rides up over my legs. The short black dress isn’t very decorous when it comes to lying on top of a man, but I’m not behaving very decorously.
“Sorry, but you bloody turn me on,” he says and touches my lips.
My heart thuds against my chest, lips sore from the sudden, intense kiss. I’ve definitely had too much vodka because I no longer care that Evan’s a player. I have never been kissed like that. Ever.
“Doesn’t matter,” I mumble and push myself onto him and our tongues tangle again. I slide my hands beneath his shirt, across his hard stomach and chest. I can’t move my head, he’s holding my hair so tightly, and my body aches for him to touch me too. In a sudden movement, Evan pushes me onto the sofa and presses himself between my legs. His arousal presses against me, through his jeans, and I no longer register anything but the weight of Evan against me, his lips on my skin, the way each touch coils hot desire in the centre of me.
Evan pauses and rests his forehead against mine. “We should stop.”
No.
“Oh?” I breathe.
“Matt.”
My racing heart skips. Is Matt awake? Did he see this? I crane my head. “He’s asleep.”
“Not here,” Evan says.
Is he waiting for an invite to my bed? His heart races against mine, and I’m shocked by how far I’ve aroused him and how quickly he’s turning me on further. I squeeze my eyes shut, battling the thought of his hands and mouth caressing my aching breasts, touching all of me.
“Not now,” he says.
Evan makes to move away from me and I wind a leg around his. “Stay.”
“Ness…”
I grab Evan’s head, wanting more. Now. All of him. The alcohol courses through my bloodstream, numbing my self-control further. Even though he kisses me as hard as before, Evan moves his hands and braces himself against the sofa instead, lifting his body away from me. I could ask him upstairs, that would be okay, wouldn’t it?
Evan breaks the kiss and shifts away. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
I drop my head against the edge of the sofa and look at the ceiling, a sudden disappointment joined by something else. Rejection. “This isn’t just about Matt, is it?”