Oh god. I could feel my legs beginning to buckle. I wanted him. I wanted him so bad. This friendship thing was so not going to work. I stood aside, letting him into the apartment. I managed smile as he walked past me, his scent hitting my senses like a sledgehammer.
Aftershave and sweat. I breathed him in. Then realised how creepy I was being. Closing the door, I took the opportunity to compose myself.
Get a grip Emma!
He was already walking to the couch when I turned around. I breathed in sharply. His ass. His ass was beautiful. He wore loose fitting cargos, and a button down shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up slightly, revealing the sculptured arms I’d admired the other day. Arms I'd love take hold of me right now and throw me down on the couch-
“Em?” I looked up to Simon staring at me. He held up two movies with a look of mock annoyance on his face. “Choose.” He ordered. I pointed to the first. I had no idea what either of them were, but frankly I didn't care. I wasn't planning on watching the movie. I was planning on watching him. Carol glared at Simon from her spot on top of her scratching post. Apparently she was planning on watching him too.
“Sit down Em. You look really vague. I will grab us some drinks.” I followed his orders and sank into the couch. Vague. Great. Now he thinks I'm a space head. I grabbed the cover of the movie I'd chosen.
Pulp Fiction? I groaned inwardly. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
Two hours and forty nine minutes later the movie finally ended. That was almost three hours of my life I'd never get back.
“So?” Simon turned to face me. His eyes showed his excitement. “How did you like it? It's a classic.” He added, smiling.
It crossed my mind to lie. I could tell him it was one of the best movies I've seen.
“I appreciate the director’s vision.” I finally offered after a great deal of thought.
Yes. That was the best I could do. There was nothing else positive to say about the movie at all. Simon looked shocked for all of a moment, then burst into laughter.
“You hated it.” His eyes sparkled, amused. “You know this is one of the best movies of all time.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “It was nominated for seven Oscars.” He cocked his head to one side, not bothering to hide his smirk.
“Well, not my type of thing.” I shrugged my shoulders defensively. So what if some shoot em up movie wasn’t my thing? Suddenly I had a great idea.
“Why are you smiling all of a sudden?” Simon eyed me nervously. I widened my grin, the idea forming in my mind.
“So, now I get to choose the movie, right?” I laughed as his expression turned from nervous to horrified. “Come-on, it can't be that bad.” I teased. “You trust my taste, right?”
Simon made a face.
“Hey. Stop being a dick or I will pick a really bad movie.” Simon put his arms up in mock surrender. I kicked him playfully. Now for the big decision. What to make him watch. It was a pretty easy decision, I leaned past him on the couch. He gasped as my arm grazed over his chest. I jumped back, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry.” I stammered. My face heated up as I realised he thought I was putting the moves on him. “No it’s not what you think. I didn’t mean to...” I trailed off. I didn't mean to what? I wasn't even sure of what I'd done. Simon smiled at me, his eyes sad.
“It’s not you Em, It's me.”
“That’s original.” I said dryly. “I was only trying to reach the DVD. Nothing else.” I added. His eyes followed as I pointed to the DVD case on the table. He handed it to me. Too quickly. His eyes avoided mine. Now he was the one to blush. The joys of small victories.
“What did you mean?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Simon looked up, still embarrassed, the conversation clearly making him uncomfortable. Finally he sighed.
“I meant I have feelings for you and I shouldn't.” He shrugged. I watched him as he focused way too closely on a loose thread in the seam of his pants. He liked me. Hearing him admit that made my heart swell. If he liked me then I wasn’t being a psycho crazy stalker girl.
“Simon-” I began. He cut me off.
“No Emma. Please don't say anything. Nothing you say right now can be a good thing.” I moved away from him, hurt by his words. Nothing I say could be a good thing? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He sighed. I saw guilt in the eyes. Good. He should feel bad. For the first time he was living up to his reputation as an asshole He reached for my hand. I jerked it away, the contact like an electric shock. Now it was my turn to focus on something completely irrelevant. I chose a small stain on the arm of the couch.
“Em, I couldn't handle it if you told me you didn't feel something for me.” He turned my face to his. Oh my god, his eyes. He was staring so deeply into my eyes I felt naked. “But I don't think I could stop myself if you said you did.” His hand gently touched my cheek.
All of a sudden I was lost in his eyes. All I wanted was for him to kiss me. I wanted to feel his lips touch mine. I needed him. I hated that I needed him.
I kissed him. His shock only lasted moments, before he kissed me back. His soft lips pressed against mine, urgently searching, exploring.
He tasted so sweet. His hand cupped the nape of my neck, pulling me in closer. Our kiss deepened. His other hand enclosed mine, our fingers threaded. His skin was so soft and warm.
Eventually we parted. I sighed, leaning back into his arms. He gently stroked my arm. I could still feel it the tension. The kiss hadn't changed anything. I could feel it in his body language. He wasn’t going to give in to this, he was going to fight it.
“Em, we can't. There are so many reasons why we can't do this.” His voice was cracking, like all this was so hard for him. Had he considered what I wanted for even a second?
How could I be angry when I myself had no idea what I wanted? The irony almost made me laugh.
“What reasons?” I challenged, holding his gaze.
“For starters I am your teacher. We could both get into so much trouble over this. Second, I have a daughter. Are you ready for something like that? You're only twenty for Christ’s sake. Which brings us to number three, I'm 38-”
“Do you care about the age difference?” I cut in. He looked at me, surprised by the question.
“No.” He finally said. “I don't, but others will. How old is your mother Emma? 42? 43? I am almost the same fucking age!” I winced as his voice rose. He obviously cared about what other people thought, and that would be enough to strain any relationship.
“I’m sorry, I'm not yelling at you. I'm just angry at the situation. Can you tell me your mother wouldn't have a problem with you dating someone my age?” I couldn't tell him that. I had no idea how my mom would react. I had no idea how she'd react to me dating anyone, other than Tom.
“I get it.” I pulled myself away from him. I did get it. There were all the reasons in the world for us not to be together. Yet I couldn't move past the reasons why we should. “Believe me, I get it. Honestly though? I don’t care. I haven’t felt this way about anyone. I don’t give a shit who has a problem with us being together.” Again, he reached for my hand. I didn't stop him. “If you do though, then I get it.”
“I don’t care. Not about the age. I need to consider it though. I can’t just jump into this and pretend there is nothing on the line.” I felt myself nodding. Frustration, anxiety, confusion, I felt all that. More than anything though I felt upset that he didn’t think I was worth the risk.
“I still want to be friends with you Em. I need you in my life. I've never met anyone like you, yet I know so little about you.”
For the briefest moment, I was relieved. With all the feelings coursing through me, I couldn’t handle not seeing him at all. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd known this guy for all of a week, and I couldn’t handle life without him?
“Okay. On one condition.” I finally said, desperate to diffuse the intensity of the moment. He looked at me willingly an
d nodded.
“Anything.” He agreed. I held up Pretty Woman.
“You watch this with me. Without any snide comments.” I added, catching his look of disgust. He rolled his eyes.
“Fine, but this is punishment.” He grumbled. “I don't know why girls love this so much anyway. It's a story about a hooker and a creepy old man.” He yelped as I kicked him in the thigh. How dare anyone speak ill of Richard Gere.
Chapter Ten
Since the decision to be no more than friends had been made we had spent lots of time watching movies and eating takeaway. Simon told me about some of his cases, which I loved hearing about. He had been over every night, mostly late, after he’d finished work. Niggling thoughts in the back of my head tried to convince me he must want more than friendship, wanting to be around me so often, but I tried my best to silence them.
To be honest, I welcomed the distraction as the parole hearing neared. Derek still found his way into my thoughts, and my nightmares daily. Doctor Mellow had me working through each thought from beginning to end. His idea was that maybe I could file away some of the thoughts permanently if I gave them an ending.
Simon’s presence gave me another focus. For me, nothing had changed. I was falling for him, and he was sticking to his damn promise that we would only remain friends. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted him. I wasn't sure how much longer I could just be friends with this guy. He had done something in the last ten days that nobody had been able to do in the past seven years, and he’d known me for only a week.
He made me forget. Even just for the briefest of moments, I wasn't the girl who had been raped, or the girl who had been lucky to survive horrific injuries. I wasn't the girl who felt she had no place in the world. I was me.
Emma.
When I was with Simon I felt wanted. I felt needed. Even if that need could never be fulfilled, it was still there.
The sliding door squealed as I slid it open. Wide open. I sat in the doorway, the feel of the wind blowing in my face, the security of the frame my only protection. My eyes closed. I focused on the good. I could hear the birds above me. It sounded like they’d created a nest in the roof. Tiny little chirps sang out in unison. I could hear the downtown traffic in the distance. Horns, sirens. Sounds that made me anxious and upset. Voices sang out around me.
People walking past below, chattering, and the television of my next door neighbour. A baby crying in the apartment block opposite me. I slid the door shut and pulled myself to my feet. From the protection of the window, I stood looking out over my balcony. The grey clouds looked threatening, as though they were going to release rain at any moment. The trees in the park adjacent to me swayed erratically in the wind. I could see what appeared to be a kite caught in a tree branch. A small child cried hysterically as a man tried to fish it down. Finally I moved away. It felt so good to take a step forward. I deserved a reward. I ran the bath, filling it with a special bubble bath gran had given me for my birthday last year.
Back in the kitchen, the kettle was almost boiled. I rummaged through my herbal teas, finally deciding on a green and Jasmin infusion. Beep.
I still can’t believe you made me watch that crap. I feel like you’ve made me less of a man.
The usual feeling I got when he texted engulfed my body. True, last night I had forced him into watching Runaway Bride. Only after he forced me to watch The Transporter. It was as though we were trying to see who could cause the other more pain. Though I still didn’t understand how watching Richard Gere could ever be seen as a punishment.
A real man wouldn’t have felt threatened by watching Richard Gere in the first place. Maybe I’m making you more of a man.
I slid the phone into the pocket of my dressing gown and headed back to the bathroom. I set my tea and phone on the vanity then walked over to the bubbling water. Dipping my hand in, I was happy it was just the right temperature. Too often I made the water way too hot, causing what felt like third degree burns when I finally slid in. My phone beeped again.
Richard Gere never makes anyone more of a man. I think we need to settle this over a drink. What are your plans for tonight?
My plans for the night so far involved me in front of the television with a can of beer and maybe some corn chips. That was, until Simon invited himself over.
Simon sat on the couch, singing along to American Idol. I eyed him from the other end of the couch.
“You’re very distracting, you know.” He raised his eyebrows and jumped up. Suddenly, he was dancing around the room, toward me.
Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body,
But I know not everybody has a body like you.
He grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me to my feet. I shook my head. I was embarrassed for the poor guy. He was a shocking singer, and an even worse dancer. But at that moment he was so damn sexy. My tongue brushed over my lips. Forgetting to breathe tended to make my lips dry. I giggled as he circled me around the room. He would be a nightmare to take to a concert. He would be the guy who thinks he can sing better and louder than anyone else, including the artist.
“You are such a dag.” I groaned. He had stopped singing, and had pulled me in close. I hated being this close to him. He had no idea what being this close to him did to me. His breath exhaled on my cheek, so warm. He cupped my chin gently. His touch made me tingle as he ran his finger slowly down my cheek, tracing over my lips. I kissed his finger.
“You have no idea how stunning you are.” He whispered. He was about to kiss me. I could feel it as the distance between us began to close. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry Em.” He turned, cursing himself. I'd never seen him so angry. So frustrated.
“Fuck!” he yelled, kicking the side of the bench. I jumped. His anger, even though I knew it wasn't directed at me, rippled through me. I didn’t handle anger well. The usual signs were all there, suggesting I would break down at any minute. The feeling of tears in the back of my throat, the ball of anxiety in my stomach, stretching, growing. My breathing increased rapidly.
“Please stop.” I whispered. I wiped away the tears that were threatening to ruin my make-up.
Simon looked bewildered.
“Emma, what's wrong? I wasn't angry at you. I'm just frustrated with myself.” his voice cracked. His eyes, full of concern, were clouded with just as much confusion.
He had no idea why I was upset. He couldn't know, which made me feel that much worse.
“Please go. Just go. I'm sorry.” I sobbed. I covered my face with my hands in an attempt to hide the tears. I fled to the couch. Simon followed, not knowing what to do.
“Emma. Did I do something? Please tell me.” He begged, falling to his knees in front of me. He reached out for my hand. I jumped at his touch, but didn't pull away.
“Please Simon. There are things you need to know, but I can’t. Not now. Please go.” I begged. I squeezed his hand then pushed him away. He rose, debating with himself on what to do. He stood there for what felt like hours. Finally, he sighed.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. He gathered up his things and left. I collapsed on the sofa in tears. I reached for my phone and texted Cass.
It took Cass less than ten minutes to be at my house. She found me in the bedroom, crying. Crying really wasn't the right word. I was bawling my eyes out. And the worst thing was once I started I just couldn't stop. I'd ruined everything. Not that it mattered now. We clearly couldn't be only friends, and we couldn't be together.
Where did that leave us?
“Hey Em girl. What's with the tears?” She laid down on the bed and pulled hugged me, hushing me as she gently stroked my hair.
“I’m a mess. I'm a stupid, fucking ridiculous mess.” I sobbed. “I am a worthless piece of shit. I will never have anybody because I can't let anyone near me. Stupid. Stupid.”
Cass unclenched my fists and wrapped her hands in mine. She rolled her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe how blind I was.
“I freaked out when he got angry.”
“Did he hurt you?” Cass asked sharply, her voice laced with concern. I shook my head. Simon wasn't capable of hurting me. I trusted him completely, which made this whole mess so much worse.
“I wanted it. I wanted him.” I sighed. “I think I'm falling in love with him.” I began to cry again. How could I be in love with someone? That just wasn't possible. Some bastard made sure that would never be possible 10 years ago.
I was sure Simon felt the same. He was falling in love with me too. I could see that in the way he looked at me, and in the way he wouldn’t look at me. I had never felt so loved, yet I had never felt so alone.
Poor Cass looked very confused.
“He can't be with me. Too many reasons stopping him. Us. His career, age difference. My childhood. All things you pointed out to me.” I sat up on the edge of the bed, the tears were drying up for the first time in hours. This wasn’t me. I’d worked too hard to backtrack now. Simon was capable of making my emotions feel about as stable as a Paris Hilton relationship.
So many questions ran through my mind. How would he see me once he knew the truth? Just as another victim. Just like the cases he worked with every day. Could he still love me, knowing that? And what good would telling him do? It wouldn't change the fact that he was my teacher. All it would do was give him a reason to pity me.
“Well maybe I was wrong. You guys both obviously like each other.” She reached out and pulled the hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. “Shh Em, you'll be okay. I will be back. I will make you a tea.” She slipped out of the bedroom. I listened to her fiddling around in the kitchen. I was so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up happy, with the last ten years all having been a big nightmare.
I wanted old Emma back. Innocent Emma who loved life. Instead all I was this mess. It seemed the self-pity and why me attitude was planning on sticking around. One thing was for sure. If I was going to move past everything that had happened to me, I sure as hell needed to toughen up.
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