by Eve R. Hart
And this time when her words played again in my head, I wondered if I’d gotten it all wrong.
I sat there for a long time, empty glass still in my hand on the top of the bar. The bottle she’d left, sitting a few inches away. I watched her. Her interactions with everyone else and I notice that she didn’t smile or joke around. She stayed long enough to say a few casual words as she readied drinks, but never lingered. A few times, she pulled out her phone and appeared to send off a text. That was the only time I saw the slightest bit of emotion on her face. As she read whatever it was, her face softened and her lips lost their tightness.
My mind drifted to who it might be on the other end of that conversation. A friend? A sibling? A lover? As I thought about that last one, something in my gut tightened. Her space upstairs was obviously all her. There wasn’t an inkling that someone else lived there. Hell, there was hardly any hints that she lived there.
She pulled out her phone again, her fingers typed with ferocious speed across the screen. After she was done she slid her phone back into her back pocket. Her eyes moved over to me and her casual stance against the counter straightened. She looked from me to the glass then to the bottle. Her head cocked in the cutest way like she was surprised that I hadn’t poured another glass. Damned if I wasn’t surprised, too.
Her feet took hesitant steps towards me and I took in everything about her. The shirt she had on was old and warn, the logo half faded off. The sleeves were cut off and the sides shredded and tied together. The neck had been cut out just low enough to give a hint at her deep cleavage. Her jeans were tight and the black looked more like a dark gray. There were holes on the knees, but it looked natural from wear.
I subconsciously found myself wetting my bottom lip. It had to have been nerves. Something about her set me on edge, but I wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad one. The movement wasn’t lost on her. In fact, her gaze shot to my mouth and lingered there for a long beat. As if she realized she was staring, her eyes shot back up to mine.
Once she was close enough, she grabbed the bottle, only lifting it enough to dangle over the bar top. The vary same hand that I’d patched up a week before was holding the thing I thought I wanted the most. But all I could do was think about how soft her skin had been under my fingers. And how, for just a moment, she had been affected by me. I’d spent too much time trying to push all of that away. I blamed it on the fact that maybe I was a tad lonely, and she was the only thing I really had any contact with.
“Tell me something,” she rasped out in a harsh whisper and I wondered if her throat was as dry as mine. I cleared my throat, trying to find my voice.
“You captivate me,” I whispered.
The words shocked the fuck out of me. And by the flash in her eyes, it did her as well. She clenched her jaw, reigning in her state of astonishment at my words. I wanted to take it back. But it was out there, hanging thick in the air between us.
“No,” was all she said in reply as she poured me another glass and walked off.
Shit.
Fuck!
I was kicking myself while feeling completely confused. There was no way I was trying to hit on her, even if it sounded a bit like I was. It seemed like I couldn’t filter my thoughts around her. Damn, I had no idea that I felt that way.
I downed my drink and hesitated on pouring another. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the images flood in. Logan’s birth. The day he started to crawl. The day he took his first steps. The way his face lit up as he took shaky steps towards me and the giggle that escaped him when he crashed into my arms. It was only three steps, but I was so damn proud. I remembered how it felt like it was yesterday. How I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in his scent, all the while telling him how great he had done.
All his firsts came to my mind. First word. First time he said ‘dada’ and the smile that overtook his face when he did. The first time he defied me. The first time he fed himself all on his own. And so on. There were too many to picture them all. But fuck, if I didn’t try.
I’d lost track of where I was. I had completely forgotten that I was in a bar and that there were people around me. The tear that escaped my eye brought me back to reality. The one where there would be no more firsts for my son and I wouldn’t see him grow and blossom anymore.
I must have sat there longer than I realized because when I opened my eyes, the bar was empty. The lights were turned down and the only person left was Dya, who happened to be standing there, watching me closely. This time there was no bar standing between us. There was no solid barrier keeping us at a distance. Her eyes tracked the tear as it slid down my cheek.
Her steps were light, her heeled boots hardly making a sound as she made her way to me. But they felt heavy, each step seeming to take all her strength, like she was having to will herself towards me. Or it could have been she was trying to fight the momentum. I had no idea.
The air was silent around us. Her hand reached out and seconds later her soft, slender thumb brushed away the wetness from my face. Like she’d touched fire, her hand fisted and dropped to her side.
“Come, chal-baro,” she said as she reached for my hand. I had no idea what she’d called me or what the fuck kinda language that was, but I loved the way the words seemed to roll off of her tongue.
“No, I can go. I’m fine to drive,” I replied, knowing it was true because I hadn’t had nearly enough to prevent me from doing so. I found it shocking, really.
“Yes, I am well aware of that. But I don’t think you should be alone.” With that, she dropped her empty outstretched hand and walked to the back, leaving me no choice but to follow.
The walk up to her apartment was silent. Neither of us knew what to say. Or so I guessed. Then again, she wasn’t exactly one for words.
Once we were inside, she pointed to the bed before she walked to the sink and filled up a pot with water. I stood there, just over the threshold. I don’t know why I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure why it all felt so natural. Her motion for me to take my place in the bed. The way she leisurely filled the pot then placed it on the stove. Like it was all routine and normal. Like this was what we did all the time.
Not knowing what else to do, I lumbered over to the bed and flopped down on the edge. With my feet planted on the floor, I wrapped my arms around my knees. The bed under me only managed to keep my ass an inch or two off the floor level.
She moved around the kitchen with a grace of being grounded. If that even made any sense. Her boots were silent against the hard floor, but each step seemed heavily placed. She was an enigma that was for fucking sure. She held my curiosity and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure her out. And what bothered me the most, was that I wanted to. She was hard and soft.
The last woman that had held my attention like this nearly wrecked me. She left me because I wasn’t enough to hold her attention and I’d always wondered what I could have done differently. I wondered how I could have been the man that she needed. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t me. It was her need to not be tied down that had her running. I wasn’t enough. Logan wasn’t enough. That was something that always hit me in the gut, the sharp pain stabbing me hard at the thought of it all.
“Here. Drink,” Dya said, holding a cup of something hot in front of my face. Unsure, I grabbed it and inhaled the rising steam and I nearly gagged at the too earthy scent that filled my nose.
“The fuck is this shit?” I barked before I could bite my tongue. It smelled like the worst things you could think of, left out in the sun all day, then steeped in hot water.
She eased herself down into the chair across the room and looked at me completely unaffected by my outburst. She casually sipped her tea, despite the fact that it was burning hot. Her eyes penetrated mine the entire time.
“Tea.” The only thing that moved was her mouth as she spoke the word.
“No offense, but I don’t think I can drink that,” I said as I set the mug down on the floor next to the bed. Even if I want
ed too, there was no way I was going to singe off my taste buds to do so. Then again, if I did I might not be able to taste how bad it might be. “Why am I here?” The question rolled off my tongue like I’d meant to ask it and I wasn’t sure if I was questioning myself or her.
“Before tonight you were a broken man. I could see it in your eyes. I could feel it in waves coming off of you. You didn’t even bother trying to hide it,” she said after a few moments of silence. I couldn’t argue with her words. I, in no way, was trying to hide the burdens I was carrying. She was only telling me things I already knew. “But tonight…tonight you walked into that bar a resigned man. Broken can be fixed. But a man with an empty look in his eyes is a man who has given up. That is you tonight.”
Those were the most words she’d ever said to me at once. Maybe ever. But she wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. And it hadn’t slipped past me that she didn’t really answer my question. She didn’t tell me why she brought me up here instead of letting me go. I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d even followed her. I seemed to do it blindly. I sat there, stuck in place, unable to move even a muscle. I couldn’t even swallow down the lump in my throat.
Angel.
The word rang out in my head. It hung there, resonating like the last strum of a song left to fade out.
My gaze snapped to hers and by the look that was on her face, I must have said the word out loud. She had a look of confusion and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a flash of horror behind her eyes.
I shook my head and shifted my focus. I took her in, trying to figure out where her beauty had come from. Her beautiful caramel skin. Her thick, brown hair. The odd accessories that adorned various parts of her body. And how could I forget the weird as fuck tea?! My sisters drank tea all the time, and it never smelled anything like that shit.
“What are you?” I asked knowing full well that it was rude. But I was a man who found myself caring about such things less and less. “Gypsy?” I questioned as the word popped into my head.
A disgusted look washed over her face and I wondered if I had offended her, but I had no idea why I would have.
“Roma. Romani. Traveler. Wanderer. Yes. But never Gypsy.” She sounded as if she wanted to spit when she said the word. But then she looked at me and her face softened. It was the smallest change, but I noticed it. It was as if she could tell that I didn’t mean to offend her with my stupidity. Because, really, I had no idea that was such a bad term. “The word is used to describe the lowest of society. Like we are dirty. Filthy.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I nodded slowly, taking in all her words. “So you are…a traveler?” I knew a little about their culture. I was confused as to why she was out here alone because I was under the assumption they lived and traveled in packs. But then again, what did I know. General American assumptions, I guessed.
“I was born into a kumpanias—a tribe or clan—but I am on my own now. I have been for a long time,” she said in a calm tone.
I knew there was more to that story but I could tell from the way she brushed it off that she wasn’t going to talk about it. I feared to push her because things with her felt like I was walking on the thin edge of a razor blade. And for some reason, I didn’t want to piss her off because I didn’t want to leave.
“The tea?” I was trying to pick something safe to talk about.
“My grandmother used to make it for me.”
I nodded slowly, hanging on to her every word. It was settling and terrifying all at the same time.
It was late and I knew I should go. I knew if I stayed she wouldn’t get any sleep. And from the dark circles under her eyes and the way her lids kept doing a slow blink, I knew she needed to rest. She needed me out of her hair. It wasn’t like I really wanted someone around me anyway. I wanted to be alone. I had plans. Plans that I was finding myself wavering on at the moment. The peace that I’d made just hours ago was starting to churn and I knew the longer I stayed there, the more my firm resolution would fade.
“No, you’re not leaving,” she stated with certainty. I wasn’t sure if she could read my mind or if it was simply my body language. “Tomorrow the sun will rise. And you will wake to see it.”
She stood, taking her mug with her, as she walked over and grabbed my abandoned tea. I was never going to drink it, so I didn’t even try to argue when she took it and set it in the sink.
I noticed when she walked away from me that she never fully gave me her back. Her head was turned like she needed to keep me in her peripheral. I started to think back, replaying all the times I’d been around her. Here in her apartment. Down in the bar. And not once could I remember a time when she didn’t keep me in her sights. I found it odd and I wanted to know why. Was it only me she did that with? Or was it the way she’d learned to survive?
“I’m not staying here. You need your sleep. If I stay, I know you will sit in that chair all night,” I said as I stood.
My feet felt rooted in place as she walked back over. She stopped two feet away from me and cocked her head to the side. Her eyes roamed over my body but it didn’t feel sexual. The tightness of her face made me desperate to know what she was thinking. Her head tilted back a little as her eyes skimmed over my face and finally settled on my own eyes.
“You’re tall,” she stated as if I didn’t know it.
“So are you,” I quipped back. One of her shoulders came up and dropped in a lazy way. “Are we done stating the obvious?”
My lips twitched and I almost smiled. Fuck, it was confusing. And I could tell by the way she was biting the inside of her cheek, she was holding one back too. I suddenly found myself wanting to know what that smiled looked like. I wanted to know how her face changed with it.
“Sure,” she said after a long stretch of silence.
“I’ll be goin’ then.”
She straightened, took a step closer to me, and narrowed her gaze at me. My brows furrowed in confusion. Her eyes had a strange glint in them and I remembered seeing it the first time I’d seen her. It still unnerved me just as much as it did then. It was freaky as hell and the fact that she didn’t blink, made it even worse. There was a swirl of emotions in her eyes like she was raging a war behind that melted chocolate color. What the two different sides were, I’d never know.
“Tell me something,” she whispered. My hand itched to reach out and grab her. To pull her into me. To feel the warmth of her body seeping into mine. I shook off the weird buzzing around me and focused on an answer. “Something that makes you happy. That sets you at ease. Something you could do right now.”
“Ride.” The word tumbled out with no thought.
I was a smart man. I understood what she was trying to get at. She wanted something that had nothing to do with the sadness that engulfed me. And I realized that it had been a long time since I’d been on my bike. A long fucking time where it was only me, the open road, and the wind to drown out the thoughts.
“Nothin’ as freeing as sitting on my bike watching the miles disappear under the tires. You?” I countered.
For a second she looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Same,” she replied, shocking the shit out of me. An image of her straddling a motorcycle flashed in my mind and I couldn’t say it wasn’t hot as fuck. But before I could indulge in that fantasy any longer she opened her mouth again. “Something that makes you feel safe.”
“My brothers,” I said, leaving it at that. I didn’t feel like going into an explanation about the MC. This was a very interesting game. Though, I wasn’t sure where she was going with it. But hell, I was finding more out about her and that thrilled me a little more than it should have. So for the time being, I was going to stand there and let her ask the questions, as long as she answered them in return. “You?”
“Distance,” she replied. But I couldn’t help but notice that she drifted a little closer to me with each word. “Something that makes you feel calm, even though it shouldn’t.”
&nbs
p; That gave me pause. It was a strange one. But my mouth opened and my brain answered for me.
“My sisters,” I answered and confusion marked her face. “They are chaotic. I have three. They are all different in their own ways. But they are so much alike, too. It’s like a damn tornado whenever they enter a room. They take after my mom, all of them strong in their own right. All of them not afraid to bust my balls for the smallest thing. I know it’s the way they show their love. So that’s why their chaos calms me. You?”
“That moment right before I pull the trigger. The stillness of the air around me.” Her answer was unfiltered. After being around her the small bit that I had, I knew enough to know that she always planned out her words. So this threw me a little. But I shrugged it off, thinking that practically everyone I knew owned guns. It wasn’t an uncommon thing. And I could see exactly what she was saying. I’d been there, I’d done that. Though, I didn’t think that I’d paid as much attention as she obviously had. “Your guilty pleasure?”
I laughed, hard. This would have been embarrassing for any man to admit. Or so I imagined. Thoughts of Diesel or Loch saying the words in my head out loud, almost had me doubling over. I thought back to my life and who it was that I had to blame for my answer. My damn sisters. But then again, if I’d had more of a life I would have never picked the damn things up in the first place.
Her eyes narrowed as her body straightened. If I wasn’t mistaken her face softened and she looked like she wanted to smile. Could it have been that my laughter did that? Deep inside of my black, broken heart, I desperately wished it was.
“You first,” I urged. I wanted to hear her answer before she either froze in complete shock or laughed so hard she couldn’t speak. God, I hoped it was the latter.