by Lisa Swallow
Evan’s going to change his mind; maybe he doesn’t like what he sees, because he’s not touching me anymore. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
Evan’s eyes shine. “I’m worried you won’t respect me in the morning.”
I open my mouth to reassure him, and then see the hint of a smile curving Evan’s lips. “Okay, I’ll go home if you want me to.”
With eyes fixed on his, I reach my hands behind my back and unclasp my bra, pushing the unwanted item to one side. I want his mouth on me again, his body covering mine. Every touch, every caress sends intense desire to have him possess me.
Evan exhales my name and suddenly his hands are back on me, heading towards my breasts, and his tongue trailing back up my stomach too. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and I dig my nails into his shoulders as the pleasure buzzes into me. Evan nudges my knees apart and I push myself against him; his arousal presses against me behind the barrier of his jeans. Kneeling again, Evan pulls my legs towards the edge of the bed, kissing from my ankle to my thigh. The ache builds as he traces fingers along my inner thigh and skims along the cotton, before he sits back and hooks his fingers into my panties, pulling them to the floor.
I mumble his name and wriggle in pleasure, but he grips my hips and pins me to the bed. His tongue skillfully strokes and teases, as he sucks on my clit and the pressure builds inside. This man can do things with his tongue I never imagined possible, and his enjoyment matches mine as he buries his face further between my legs. Still holding me with one hand, Evan relentlessly laps at me, moving his fingers inside. As he drags me to the edge of control, Evan moves upwards, kissing my belly and breasts with feathery kisses. I grab his hair and pull him towards my mouth. Evan’s breathing is ragged and eyes dark, questioning me. I fumble with his belt buckle and the questioning in his face turns to understanding.
“We don’t have to do this yet,” he says.
“I know. But I want to.”
Evan moves away. I lie with my eyes closed, missing the heat of his body on mine, and trembling. I don’t think I ever wanted Josh as much as I do Evan right now. I hear rustling as he takes off his jeans, then the rip of a condom wrapper, and push aside the connotations of Evan carrying condoms he has easy access to.
“Are you sure, Ness?” he whispers, leaning over me a few seconds later.
“If you don’t stop asking me, I’ll think you don’t want to.”
And I don’t believe a simple yes will assure him, so I dig my nails into his back, sliding my hands to his backside.
“Shit, of course I want to, Ness; you have no bloody idea how much,” Evan whispers against my ear as he pushes himself gently into me.
He looks down at me with a barely controlled need I’ve seen in guys before, and then lowers his face to mine. Convinced he’d be one of those guys who pins you down and grunts into the bedclothes, Evan surprises me. He covers my face and any visible skin he can reach with kisses, sending the buzzing sensation through my whole body. Carefully, he moves inside me, holding himself back until my frustrated lust takes over.
“Evan, please…”
I dig my hands into his skin, gripping him to me, wanting to consume every part of him as he does me. Our bodies slide together, perspiration building; my hardened nipples rub against his chest, the friction arousing me further if that’s possible. He rocks against me, pushing slowly, and I tighten my legs around him. His movement pushes me closer to the edge of pleasure I’m ready to fall into. I’m lost again, beneath Evan’s hard body, as he grips my ass and pushes deeper and harder. The orgasm shatters me, body and soul. I’m barely aware of anything apart from Evan losing himself in his own pleasure, burying himself further and harder into me.
As we catch our breath, Evan gazes down at me again, damp fringe against his forehead.
“I told you,” he whispers, tracing my swollen lips with a finger.
“What?”
“Evan fits into Vanessa.”
I make a mock gasp and go to push at his shoulder. Evan laughs at me and catches my hand before I can make contact with his skin. He laces his fingers through mine.
“Or maybe the other way round. Because your hand fits in mine, as if it were made for me.”
Kissing my palm, he rests my hand over his heart and a strange tenderness I never expected passes between us. This was supposed to be sex, pure and probably not very simple, but something in Evan’s words and expression arrests me.
I lie back and stare at the ceiling as he heads to the bathroom, the warmth leaving with him. Maybe this is real.
Evan returns and pulls the sheets over us, wraps his arms around my waist and we spoon on the bed. Evan’s heart hammers into my back and I trace my fingers along the muscles in his forearms. Being here, held in the aftermath of the best sex I’ve had in a long time, warms me as much as his embrace.
I turn and snuggle into his chest, listening to his heart rate slow as we drift to sleep.
15
NESS
I wake to Evan sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his jeans. He’s facing away from me, typing into his phone. I admire the knotted muscles in his back, his broad shoulders marred by some nail marks. Heat builds at the memory of last night.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Evan startles. “Yeah…” He puts the phone on the desk and doesn’t sound sure.
I prop myself up, and he watches me warily. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I think so.”
He brushes my tangled hair from my eyes. “I hope so.” My lips are swollen from last night, face smarting from where his stubble scratched me, but as we kiss, his taste reawakens everything.
Evan pulls back and rests his forehead on mine. “So, do you still respect me?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
As he reaches for his T-shirt, I want to ask him not to dress. “So, we should go on another date now? That’s if you want to, now you’ve got what you want from me.”
“Yeah, well…” I examine my nails. “If I have time, I’ll call you.”
We look at each other and share a smile that pulls us back to our easygoing understanding. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Seriously, though. I want to take you out somewhere tonight.”
“Okay.”
A door bangs across the hallway and Evan looks toward his door. “I’ll make you a drink. Coffee?”
“Please. Maybe some painkillers, my head hurts a bit.”
“No problem. Then I’ll drive you home, if you want?”
My stomach lurches at his eagerness for me to leave. “Okay.” Please, not excuses. Have I made a stupid mistake here?
Evan’s phone rings and he jumps.
“Popular guy,” I say.
“Yeah. So coffee?” He picks up his phone and stands; a sick feeling replaces my happy afterglow as he studies the screen and chews his lip.
“Thanks.” I attempt to catch his eye and fail.
Evan may have switched his phone off last night, but something pulls him back to it now. Someone. Heart sinking, I pick up my discarded clothes and prepare for the hurt I should expect.
* * *
EVAN
I think of Ness while I shower, summoning up images of her—us—as the warm water washes over me. To say that last night’s events were hoped for but unexpected is an understatement, and I don’t know what to feel. She’s gorgeous, sexy, and oh so clever, but what do I do? Being with her is comfortable, the sparring fun, but I worry about things becoming intense. I respect Ness and enjoy my time with her, but do I want a relationship? Whether I do or not, I’m one step closer to Ness expecting more.
Maybe I’m over-thinking things like a girl would. Perhaps she only wants me for my body. I laugh at the idea, even when girls say they only want a physical relationship, they can’t keep things that way. We’ll keep having some fun, see how things go. I’ve enjoyed my times out with Ness. Now sex is in the equation too and was bloody good, there’s no reason to stop. I’ll call her later and arran
ge the date I promised when I dropped her home an hour ago.
I pull on a clean T-shirt and jeans, glancing at my phone screen. Crap. Out of charge. I plug in the phone and a number appears on the screen.
For once, this isn’t Lucy.
This is worse.
He’s not called me for weeks and has tried for an hour.
Fuck.
I sit on the bed and stare, knowing what this means. Why can’t he deal with Lucy himself, instead of dragging me back into the mess? But if he’s calling, there’s a reason. I dial the number.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You need to come back.” His voice is agitated, music blaring in the background.
“Why? I can’t.”
“I can’t cope, Evan. You have to come and help me.” Is he slurring?
“You’re in the fucking pub? That’s not going to help!”
“Evan, please. I wouldn’t ask but…”
Wouldn’t ask? He’s done nothing but ask. Every time, dumping this shit on me and making me responsible.
“No.”
The music fades as he moves. “If you don’t come back, I don’t know what she’s going to do.”
“Don’t you fucking start! Lucy’s guilt trips are bad enough without you joining in.”
“What if she disappears again? I’ve told Lucy to wait, that you’ll come and see her. She’s been looking for you.”
“Yeah, I know. She tried calling a lot.” I pause. “I’m not coming back.”
“I didn’t tell her where you are, which I could’ve done.”
Emotional blackmail. My mind desperately grips the desire to cling onto my present and not to be dragged back to the past. I haven’t returned to Lancaster since I left, and have zero desire to.
“I can’t do what you want.”
“I’m desperate or I wouldn’t call. Evan, please. Help me out here.”
I draw in a huge breath and hold it until the lack of oxygen makes me dizzy. He sounds so drunk, pathetic. I let the breath out and hold my forehead against the wall. Trapped. Suffocated. Responsible. “If I come back, I’m only staying for the weekend.”
I hardly hear his relieved thanks, and end the call. Numbly, I gather clothes and push them into my rucksack. The same rucksack I packed when I left this shit behind.
Unwanted memories follow me into the car and call me back to Lancaster, to the past and away from my new life. About to drive away, I remember my present. I pull my phone out, text an apology to Ness, and tell her I’ll call after the weekend. Explaining is too hard right now.
16
NESS
The text from Evan shouldn’t be a surprise, but the words are still a punch in the gut. Embarrassment not anger is my immediate emotion. I eagerly joined in. This wasn’t a case of letting myself go too far after a drunken night out. I knew Evan’s history and before I did anything with him, I told myself this would be the outcome. The dates were all leading to this inevitable moment. Ashley was right; this is Evan’s style, and I ignored the signs. How many other girls shared my stupidity? A glimmer of trust appeared, when he dropped me at home and arranged to meet me tonight. An outright thanks and goodbye at that point would’ve been preferable, if this was going to be the result of our night. Why lie and send a pathetic text? I never took Evan for a coward.
The odds of the ‘I’ll call you next week’ happening seem slim.
Despite efforts to push the hurt away, my mind-numbing job leaves my brain space to mull over the encounter. Typical insecurities sneak in. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? But seriously, would anything I did or didn’t do matter? I don’t want a friends-with-benefits relationship, so screw him.
The weekend passes by, and my peace with the situation gradually increases, as I repeatedly remind myself this was all my own doing.
Monday comes and goes, and despite my attempts not to think about him, each time my phone rings my heart skips. Of course, Evan doesn’t call. Or on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. By Thursday, the hyperventilating every time I hear my ring tone ceases.
A text from Evan arrives out of the blue a few days later, and I stare at the words blankly. His motivation puzzles me, and I decide he’s looking for more sex. Maybe his killer body and poetry are failing him. I was such a bloody idiot.
I’m still getting crap at work about sales figures and I’m over the pressure there too. The idea of leaving and travelling for a year tempts more each day. Research on my laptop encourages the idea. Plenty of girls go it alone; they meet up and travel together. What do I have to lose?
I have some serious thinking to do about life, and removing myself from everything for a few months could bring the clarity I need. Working in this job is clearly not the right path, but no way will I enrol into university with an ‘I told you so’ from my parents. I at least have to try to show them there’s more to life than the one they want me to have.
Pictures of foreign beaches and blogs about travel adventures fill my spare time. Hell, maybe I won’t even come back.
* * *
EVAN
Lucy and the past screw life up even from a distance. My foolish belief that leaving Lancaster and the nightmare of the last few years behind is possible disintegrates. Dutifully, I return to help, pulled straight into the old ways and old emotions. I vowed never to put myself through the pain again; Lucy isn’t my responsibility. But I care too much when others don’t. How can I not help?
Sitting in my old room, looking at the Pennines in the distance, I can’t breathe. Caged again. Leaving once, Lucy sucks me back in hard.
The weight of Lucy pulls me down still and I want to see Ness. Nobody else in Leeds has a connection to me like her because she’s also on the edge of the world I’m struggling to become part of. I can relax around Ness, be more like myself; or as much as I can be around someone else. Everyone I talk to at uni holds onto their old lives, talk excitedly about their past. Ness understands; she’s like me. The control of the past needs to be escaped. Childhood is gone.
A week goes by before I escape back to Leeds. The student environment is alien after the events of my week away, and I can’t reconnect. My text to Ness is ignored and I can’t blame her. The idea of contacting her while I was away crossed my mind a couple of times, but the need to keep the two worlds separate stopped me calling. Big mistake.
So I guess Ness and me are done with, and I need to try harder to reconnect with others. Switch off Lancaster, turn on Leeds, and hope Lucy stays where the hell she is.
17
NESS
The grey skies linger all day and the winter chill arrives sooner than in Surrey. Few leaves litter the grassed areas of campus now as autumn ends. The golden hues remaining on the trees lining the path capture my attention, as the increasingly rare sunshine brightens the afternoon. I don’t leave the car anymore when I come to pick up Abby, because I don’t want to bump into Evan. Several weeks on, the event is dealt with in my mind, but seeing him would drag up the lingering humiliation.
Some days, as I wait, I see guys who my jittery mind convinces me are Evan, until they’re closer, and I see they’re not. Today the guy is definitely him. I recognise the jacket he’s wearing from our nights out, and brown hair flops into his eyes as he strides confidently across campus. Alone. Why did my heart jump a little when I noticed he wasn’t with a girl? I sink down in the car seat, praying he doesn’t look over. As I hold onto the key in the ignition ready to drive away, I chastise myself. What difference does it make if Evan sees me or not?
Evan pauses to talk to someone, whoever they are obscured by his tall frame. He steps to one side and turns. Omigod. Abby. They continue the conversation as he glances over at the car. My chest tightens as I struggle to breathe. Don’t come over. Please. I repeat the words like a mantra. When Evan walks away, hunched figure, hands in pockets, and Abby approaches alone, my breathing calms. My mantra worked.
Abby climbs into the car. “I just saw Evan.”
“Yeah? How
is he?” I summon a breezy, nonchalant tone. I still haven’t told her what happened between us.
“Good, I think. He asked after you.”
“Mmm?”
Abby takes her gloves off. “Did something happen the night you stayed at his?”
“You’ve asked me before. Numerous times. No, it didn’t.”
“Okay. My best friend sixth sense tells me otherwise. You’ve gone white and your hands are shaking.” I sit on my betraying hands. “Evan asked you to call him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Call him and ask!” She pauses. “Maybe he wants to get you into bed again.”
“Abby!” I hastily turn the key in the ignition and jam the car into gear.
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” she says. And giggles.
* * *
I don’t call Evan. Abby tells me I’m stubborn and playing hard to get. Whatever. Why would I open myself up to him again? I’m keeping out of all things male and all things student, as originally intended. My moment of crazy has passed, and I’ve learned however awesome the sex, the sick feeling of rejection afterwards isn’t worth it.
The bookmarks tab on my laptop grows daily with internet research on backpacking. By my calculations, I should have enough money to go in spring. Five months. The thought of almost half a year in my call centre life pains me, but some people will always work in jobs they hate. I’m lucky to have the opportunities.
I scroll through one of my favourite blogs at my laptop in my room, read an update on the girl whose adventures I’m following. She’s in Australia and the place looks amazing. The huge blue skies above her contrast with the grey evening encroaching on my life from now until spring, and I sigh. Five months. Maybe I should start a countdown, or create my own blog.
Someone knocks on the door and voices carry up the stairs. I glance at the clock, 7 p.m., around the time Abby goes out. I hear a male voice and my curiosity is piqued. I haven’t met Tom, the new guy she’s been talking about. Sneaking out of the room, I peek down the stairs to see who’s by the front door. And look straight into Evan’s face.