Touched

by Sabre Rose

  “Each to their own, I guess,” Gabe said.

  “Human stomachs are not meant to digest milk from animals,” the man-stealing-bitch said in her slow drawl.

  A crease of annoyance appeared between Derek’s eyebrows as he handed over the money. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Lowers testosterone levels from what I’ve heard.” Gabe held up his hands. “But hey, maybe that’s your thing.”

  I couldn’t help the snort that escaped, and Derek’s frown deepened. “Real mature, Lauren.”

  Gabe pulled the carton of soy milk out of the fridge and made a display of pouring it into the jug, lowering the carton up and down dramatically like a bartender. As it swirled under the pressure of the steam, he placed the thermometer into the liquid and the needle rose up to seventy. Gabe didn’t stop. He kept going until it almost reached ninety degrees. He winked at me and handed over the cup. “One soy milk latte.”

  Derek jerked the cup from his hand. “You can bring the other one over to the table.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gabe saluted.

  I watched as he walked away, one hand resting protectively on the small of the man-stealing-bitch’s back.

  Gabe hummed quietly as he wiped down the counter top and leaned close. “Something tells me they aren’t going to want that second cup.”

  “Fuck!” Derek yelled. Another customer in the café looked up at him and shook her head, unimpressed with his outburst. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “You still want that other one?” Gabe yelled across the café.

  “Fuck you,” Derek mouthed as he pulled the man-stealing-bitch up from the seat and dragged her towards the door. She struggled to keep up with him, moving as fast as her tight skirt and high heels would allow. I shuddered to think that I might have resembled that the day before.

  “You okay, baby?” she drawled.

  Derek was holding his hand to his mouth. “I should have known better than to try and act civil.” He shot a death stare in my direction as he walked out of the door.

  I turned to Gabe, trying to look appalled and shocked when secretly I was pleased. “What did you do that for?”

  “I didn’t see you trying to stop me.”

  I opened my mouth to say more but promptly shut it again. He had a point. Gabe looked at me, his eyebrows raised and grinning stupidly. “You won’t tell on me, will you? He was a prick. Ex-boyfriend?”

  I shook my head. “Ex-fiancé.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And the woman?”

  “The man-stealing-bitch?”

  “Sorry, my bad. And the man-stealing-bitch?”

  “A fellow real estate agent,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” I glanced down at the pale band of skin around my wedding finger which had held my engagement ring. Strangely, I didn’t feel the familiar tug of melancholy. “We separated about five months ago.”

  Gabe pulled himself up to sit on the counter. “Sorry.”

  For the first time since Derek left, I shrugged it off. “Shit happens.” I didn’t swear often, it wasn’t professional, but damn, it felt good. Maybe the occasional swear word would become part of the new me. The new, coffee-making, less professional me.

  Gabe furrowed his brows but laughed. “Awesome, Forrest Gump.” He shook his head, smiling. “Shit happens,” he repeated.

  It struck me that it was the first time I’d almost felt okay around Derek. Usually, when I wasn’t around him, I was sad. And then, when he was around, I was pissed. Mind you, the man-stealing-bitch’s extra wide smile didn’t help. Neither did the way he kept glancing down at her stomach, like he could somehow see the little part of him growing inside her, despite the fact that her stomach was still as flat as it was when he informed me she was pregnant. Turned out that was why he left. She could give him the very thing I couldn’t. I swallowed the lump growing in the back of my throat.

  Peta bustled through the door bringing with her a rush of crisp spring air. “I just saw Derek and the man-stealing-bitch clambering into the Beemer. What on earth happened? Are you okay?” She stopped and dumped her bags onto the counter. “Did he upset you? What did he say? Whatever it was I hope you took no notice. How dare he come in here! Gabe, I might need you to change roles and act as security if he ever—” Peta wrapped her arms around me and squeezed hard.

  I squeezed back. “I’m fine, honestly.”

  “Are you sure?” She held me at arm’s length. “He was swearing his head off and muttered something about my staff.” Peta frowned when she noticed Gabe sitting on the counter. “Get your arse off there.”

  “That’s my cue,” Gabe said, sliding off the counter and heading out the back. “I’m going to see if Mark needs a hand.” He winked at me and held his finger to his lips.

  Peta looked between us, the line in the middle of her forehead deepening. “What’s going on?”

  “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  “But why was he so angry?”

  I grinned. “Ask Gabe.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  I laughed away her concern. “What are you still doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be home by now? Go!”

  5

  LAUREN

  With each day of work, I grew more confident. Under the tutelage of Peta, Gabe and Jordan, I mastered each of the coffees and was soon flicking over the register with ease. But I kept well away from the kitchen. The only time I ever entered was to pass through to the storeroom. It was Mark’s domain in the afternoons and evenings; only Peta was allowed to interfere, and that was only when he was in a good mood.

  The other staff were nice enough. Gabe smiled at me a lot. He would catch my eye and hold my gaze just a little longer than necessary, and he took every chance to brush against me and lean in a little closer than needed. If I didn’t know better I would have thought that he was flirting with me. Of course, I knew he was probably like this with everyone, lapping up attention wherever he could grab it. Still, I allowed myself to think about him sometimes. I imagined his naked body hovering over me, imagined what his lips would feel like pressed against mine. But I would end up feeling so guilty over these fantasies that I disregarded any attention I thought he showed me. Clearly, my fantasies were affecting my perception of reality. I was just missing Derek. Gabe was nothing more than a pretty distraction. He would never seriously want to be with someone like me, used and broken.

  Peta said she noticed how much time Gabe spent around me, but I knew any attention I received was really out of pity. She warned me off him, but she didn’t need to. I wasn’t young and stupid. I knew what he was. Still, as Peta said earlier, there was no harm in looking.

  But then something happened that changed my way of thinking and my feelings for him got a little confused.

  It was a Friday night and Gabe, Peta and I were scheduled to close at the café. Friday night was the only night Peta worked late, letting Mark get home early. Mark did every close apart from the weekends.

  Peta and I were cleaning down the food cabinet. She was wiping the outside of the glass while I stuck my head inside and awkwardly swiped at the panels. As usual, we were discussing reality cooking shows, an obsession for both of us, even if it was only Peta who cooked.

  “I honestly think they are only keeping them there for the ratings,” Peta said. “I mean, why else? It’s not as though they can cook.”

  “They’ve got a lot better recently,” I said, ever the defender of the underdog.

  Peta stopped wiping and stared at me through the glass. “You take that back, Lauren Lees.”

  “Actually, it’s back to Greer.” For some reason, as soon as Derek and I got engaged, all of our friends stopped using my maiden name, my real and legal name and started referring to me by Derek’s. At the time, it seemed sweet. Now it just sickened me.

  Her eyes grew wide. “You’ve gone back to your maiden name?”

  “It was never my name,” I replied.

  Gabe w
alked over and pulled himself up to sit on the counter, looking down at me squished awkwardly into the cabinet. “So? What did you think?”

  “Of what?” I asked, pulling my head out of the cabinet to hear him properly. I stretched and arched my back, trying to work out the kink that formed from bending over for so long.

  “Of Blood Too Sweet?”

  Yesterday Gabe had been trying to convince me to watch one of his favourite TV programmes. A zombie, bloodthirsty, gruesome one. He relished telling me about how they plunged axes into the zombies’ heads, and how bodies with torn and missing limbs pulled themselves across the ground. The information had basically gone in one ear and out the other.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be pushing a mop over the floor or something?” I said, putting my head back into the cabinet. “Isn’t he?” I mouthed to Peta.

  “I’ve finished.” He leaned over and ran his finger across the glass, leaving a smeared mark. “You missed a spot.” He grinned at Peta and she shoved him off the counter.

  “There’s the kitchen floor, too,” she said.

  “Finished that.” He crouched down beside me. “So, did you watch it?”

  I stopped cleaning. “Hmmm, let me think about it. Nope.”

  “You didn’t even try? You might really like it and how will you know if you don’t try?” He looked at me intently and twitched his lips. “Did you even look for it?”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed, though a slight smile remained. “I’m not into zombies.”

  “How do you know?” Gabe stood, and stretched his arms into the air, lifting his shirt and exposing a strip of tanned flesh. “Are you just about finished?”

  I shook my head, eyes trained on my work and not Gabe. “I’ve still got to empty the last load in the dishwasher and stack the boxes in the storeroom. I can’t stand how messy it is in there. You’re more than welcome to help, if you like.”

  “Nah, I’m good. It will give me enough time to hire the DVD.”

  He walked into the kitchen and Peta looked at me, eyebrows raised. “What does he mean by that?” she whispered.

  Gabe popped his head back around the door. “What’s your address?”

  “Why?” I asked standing up straight.

  “Because I’m coming around to make sure you watch it.”

  “Now?”

  “No, in three weeks,” he scoffed. “Of course now. What’s your address?”

  I told him, not daring to look at Peta, and he dashed out the door, yelling he would meet me there in half an hour.

  “Now do you still think his attention is pity?” Peta asked, looking at me with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I said with my heart beating a little faster. I shook my head. “No. He’s just being friendly. He’s friendly with everyone. He’s friendly with Jordan, with Kate, with you. Heck, he’s overly friendly with Mark. Besides, he’s just too young.”

  Peta chewed her lip and smirked. “Too young? Not sure if I would say too young. Young, but not too young.”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “And how many times has he invited himself to Mark’s or Jordan’s place to watch a movie?”

  “It’s not a movie,” I said quietly as my mind raced.

  “Jordan has been trying to get his attention ever since she laid eyes on him and he’s never shown her the slightest interest that could be construed as anything more than civil.” She narrowed her eyes a little, pondering what she just said. “In front of me, anyway,” she added. “But, my point is, there is no denying the attention he’s been showing you.”

  “You’re reading too much into it,” I said, but at the same time, a little part of me hoped she was right. I pulled myself up straighter, suddenly feeling a little less second hand.

  “Be careful, Lauren.”

  I snorted. “You don’t need to worry about me. Sensible is my middle name. Lauren Sensible Le—Greer,” I amended.

  * * *

  Smudge greeted me at the door and meowed painfully. I reached down and scratched behind his ears, feeling more affectionate towards him than I had done in ages. Gabe said he would be over in half an hour, but that was forty minutes ago. He would be arriving soon and I was in quite a dither. I didn’t know whether to change or stay in my uniform. Usually, I would change into my sweatpants and slippers but I hardly felt that would be appropriate. For a second I allowed myself the indulgence of imagining Derek walking in and finding me in Gabe’s arms. I relished the look of shock on his face.

  The cushions weren’t straight on the couch so I adjusted them, emptied the dishwasher, and put more food in Smudge’s bowl. I ended up staring at the clock and wishing I had his number so I could text him and put it off.

  By the time Gabe knocked on the door, I had convinced myself he wasn’t coming and I was stupid for even allowing myself to get excited about it. There were years between us. I wasn’t sure how many. He looked to be in his early twenties, so it was possible that he was only five or so years younger. Five wasn’t bad. No doubt he just felt sorry for me and was regretting his offer of coming over. He was probably standing outside the door, scolding himself for getting into this position. I took a deep breath and swung open the door.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Gabe said, pushing past me and into the lounge. An intoxicating musky smell clung to him and I wanted to lean in and inhale. “The store I went to didn’t have it, so I had to travel to the one across town.”

  With dismay, I noticed he had changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans. The shirt clung to him tightly, outlining the contours of his chest and shoulders, and his jeans hung off his hips just right. I swallowed and internally scolded myself.

  Gabe plonked himself down on the couch and slid the DVD onto the coffee table. “Nice place.”

  I looked around the room as if I, too, were seeing it for the first time. It was nothing like the house I shared with Derek. A lot smaller, a lot older, but I liked it. It had character that our large, modern house hadn’t. Even if the decor belonged in the eighties.

  “Going for the minimalist look, huh?”

  I hadn’t unpacked all my stuff. Well, I only had half of it now and unpacking it was just depressing. Smudge sauntered into the room, tail held high. He sat in front of Gabe and blinked slowly.

  “Hey, kitty.” Gabe reached down to pat him but Smudge pulled his head away and looked at him indignantly. Gabe scooted to the edge of the chair and tried to pat him again. Smudge hissed but didn’t move away.

  “Sorry about him,” I said and shooed the cat. “You want something to drink?”

  “You got any beer?”

  I grimaced. “Tea, coffee or wine, I’m afraid.” I used to keep beer in the fridge. Not anymore.

  “Give me a minute.” Gabe popped up from the chair and ran out the door. I took the chance to pour myself a wine and sat on the couch. He returned with a half-finished six pack. “Want one?”

  I shook my head and adjusted my shirt. I wished I had changed out of my uniform. It was quiet for a few moments as Gabe opened the beer and took a long gulp.

  I felt the need to fill the silence so I asked, “Do you enjoy working at the café?”

  “Lifelong dream.”

  “Have you ever considered anything else?”

  “Your last name isn’t Thornton, is it?” At my confused expression, he shook his head. “Never mind. Architecture, maybe. I never really considered it until I went overseas and fell in love with some of the buildings I saw, but my father is a building developer and I couldn’t think of anything worse than pursuing anything even close to his line of work.”

  I briefly considered asking him who his father was, since Derek was in real estate and I might have heard of him, but then I decided I didn’t want to know. There was no need to tie everything back to Derek.

  “What sort of architecture?”

  “Restoring abandoned buildings. I hate the modern rubbish my father builds, but I love old ruins. I figure, maybe,
I could combine the two and use modern construction to help save old buildings. It’s just an idea. At this stage, I’m too obsessed with the art of coffee.”

  I nodded, feeling even more nervous and anxious and stupid than before he arrived. “You don’t have a lot to do with your family?”

  “My family? Yes. When I can. My father? No.”

  “Is he the reason you went overseas?”

  “You are nosy, aren’t you?” he said, laughing.

  Colour flooded my cheeks and I cursed my nervous chatter.

  “Should I put the DVD on?” He didn’t wait for my response and stood to place the disc inside the player. When he returned he sat himself down on the couch beside me.

  I can’t say I concentrated all that much on the programme. There was a plot though, which surprised me. I thought zombies were all about blood and brains. There was an awful lot of moaning. Gabe sat glued to it, laughing at the gore. All I could think about was how close his thigh was to mine and how good he smelled.

  Smudge came back and sat beside Gabe on the couch. Gabe gave me a look of surprise when, after a few moments of a staring competition between cat and man, Smudge deposited himself onto Gabe’s lap and started purring loudly.

  “So what did you think?” he asked when the credits rolled after the first episode.

  “Better than I thought it would be. I don’t get the zombies though.”

  “You don’t get them? There’s nothing to get. They’re zombies.”

  “But sometimes they can only stumble along and then other times they run. It doesn’t make sense. They aren’t consistent.”

  Gabe laughed. “The zombie genre isn’t really about consistency. But I like to think of it this way; some people run faster than others, some people walk differently from others. Wouldn’t it make sense that when they turned into zombies, the same would apply, making some fast and some slow?”

  I screwed up my nose. “I suppose.”

  “But really, it pays not to think about those things. Just sit back and enjoy the gore. Keen for the next episode?”

  I looked at the clock. It was after eleven already and bed was calling. I still wasn’t exactly sure why he was here. Was there something to it, or was he just a friendly guy who was invested in my zombie education? “I guess,” I said finally.