Rock My World

by Lee Piper

  Highly doubtful.

  ****

  Three hours later, I was still seated on a brown, plush leather stool in the lobby bar, aptly named Oblivion. The muted lights and tactfully positioned tea light candles placed on low wooden tables fit snugly in-between patterned couches. The entire ambiance was one of understated romance. I hated it. Well, almost as much as the soft instrumental music wafting through the ceiling speakers and the gentle murmurs from far too many middle-aged couples sitting nearby. I had the sudden urge to obliterate the place with an army tank.

  Except, Patrick, the barman and I were now on a first name basis. He kept filling my glass, so I graciously curbed any violent tendencies. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. Sadly, however, Patrick was also a talker which meant that our emerging bond would never last without me having to sew his lips shut with barbed wire. Don’t get me wrong, he was a nice enough guy, in a lanky, overly confident kind of way. But he talked incessantly, and about shit really I didn’t care about. Though in saying that, it did mean I could zone out and get lost in my own thoughts, because provided I nodded or shook my head at the appropriate intervals, Patrick didn’t seem to mind that I never spoke back. And since he was pouring me double shots, I didn’t mind either.

  Only, the alcohol wasn’t working. I was trying so hard to drink and forget, but for some perverse reason the whiskey no longer soothed me the way it used to. Not only that, but I was struggling to swallow each sip too, it slowly burned while sliding down my throat.

  The world was clearly against me.

  So I just glared down at the ocher liquid, with Levi’s last broken stare and Riley’s choked sob circling around and around in my head. If only I could think of a way where we could all get out of this clusterfuck unscathed. Then, not only could we all have our happily ever after, but I could also get out of this torturous bar before dousing it in turpentine and setting it alight. I shook my head. Thankfully, it was while Patrick was recounting a sob story about … fuck, who the hell cared? Wanting everyone to end up living happily ever after was a naïve hope in a wishful dream. This was reality. Where people screwed one another over more often than they bathed or breathed. In other words, a heck of a lot. And for some reason, I seemed to wound more people than most.

  “Grace, you gonna get that?”

  I looked up at Patrick, confused. He stared pointedly at me and then at my phone which was in the process of dancing its way across the bar towards him. I must have switched it to vibrate sometime after my third/sixth whiskey. After all, I really didn’t want to be reminded of what I was doing the last time I heard Riley’s ringtone and she did say she was going to call back. I downed the rest of my drink before picking it up. “Hey.”

  “Hey, G.” The sounds of heavy thumping music and loud chatter interspersed with expletives and laughter emanated through the receiver. They almost drowned Riley’s voice out completely.

  “Having a good night at The Hole?”

  She giggled, and knowing Riley as I did, I’d say she was on to her fourth drink. “I’m having an amazing night.”

  “Glad to hear it. Is everything okay now? You sound heaps better than the last time we spoke.”

  “Everything’s great. It was just a miscommunication, G. You see, we had a bit of a chat and…” she stage-whispered into the phone, I had to hold it away from my ear to save my bleeding eardrums, “I think he likes me.” She giggled again.

  I swallowed, begging my whiskey not to make a fool out of me by crafting a stellar repeat performance. So Levi had phoned Riley. Man, when a girl did him wrong he really didn’t hang around to sort shit out. “That’s great, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Yeah, you sound it. G, what’s wrong? How come now you’re the one who’s about to burst into tears?”

  I slowly shook my head before realizing that she couldn’t see me. Right, words. They would be helpful. So I mumbled, “I’m okay.”

  “No you’re not. Where’s Levi? Is he with you?”

  “Um he’s … I haven’t seen him for a while.”

  “Have you guys had a fight or something?”

  “You mean he didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me when? I haven’t spoken to him since he was at our apartment last Saturday.”

  I rubbed my forehead, beyond confused. “But you just told me you spoke with him and now everything’s sorted out between you two.”

  “I what?” She paused for a minute. “Oh my God. You thought I was interested in Levi, didn’t you?” She laughed and I had to grip onto the bar to stop myself from hurling the phone at the most expensive bottle of liquor I could find. There were plenty sitting on the shelf facing opposite me, so I had heaps of options.

  “G, I don’t like Levi. Well, not like that anyway.”

  “You what?”

  “God no. He’s too … Anyway, he’s not the one for me.”

  “But you were all over him at The Hole last Friday.”

  “Girl, I hugged him hello.”

  “And last Saturday you were making doe eyes at him while almost force feeding him a damn smoothie.”

  “You were going to make him coffee. I didn’t want the man to die from dehydration.”

  “But what about the text you sent me? You know, the one with all the excited emojis after I told you he was my student teacher.”

  “That’s because I was excited. For you.”

  “Me?”

  “Of course. As soon as I met him I knew you guys would be perfect for one another. Why did you think I invited you to their gig?”

  “Riley, I … I’ve got to go.”

  There was a deep murmur on her end of the line, followed by what I could have sworn was a drunken, sloppy kiss. I heard Riley giggle before murmuring to me, “Sure, G. I’d better go too.”

  “Wait. Who are you with?”

  But the line was already dead.

  I carefully put the phone back down on the bar and stared at it for a good ten minutes. Riley wasn’t interested in Levi. I had misconstrued the whole thing.

  Mother fucker.

  So that meant every time I pushed Levi away, stopped him mid-thought or ran away from him, had all been for nothing. Which therefore meant that every growing feeling, fantasy and emotion I had experienced but continuously told myself was wrong, wasn’t.

  Christ Almighty.

  And now I had no fucking idea what to do. I mean, I had just seriously wounded the guy after he was brave enough to open up to me about his past. Not only that, but I had also thrown back in his face the fact that he wanted to explore what was between us.

  Us.

  Was it even possible? Would he ever want to look me in the face again, let alone be willing to figure out what the heck was going on? If by some miracle he could, would I even be able to do the same thing? Was there any way my broken fragments could be pieced back together with the help of this mocking, arrogant, beautifully kindhearted man?

  “Grace, are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

  I glanced up at Patrick but it was Levi’s face who stared back at me. “I’ve got to go.” I paid him way more than necessary before standing, spinning on my heel and bolting out the bar.

  Chapter Ten

  It’s never easy, this weight pulling on my heart today,

  Just stop these feelings,

  Let me go, crying as I drift away.

  -MONDEZ, “Escape”

  I’d like to say that when I walked through our hotel room door and stepped over the threshold of the lounge room, Levi and I immediately gazed meaningfully into each other’s eyes. I’d then like to say that I perfectly communicated the depth of my regret through look alone and we both ran into each other’s open arms before having crazy make-up sex on the couch, the bed, and then up against the window. Though, not necessarily in that order. But I’d be lying. After all, this was reality and shit like that simply didn’t happen in this fucked up world.

  So instead, I left the frantic eagerness I felt in the bar at the
front door. It seemed as though the closer I got to facing up to the aftermath of my cruel Smart Mouth, the more tongue-tied and terrified I became. I didn’t want to lose the mocking eyes and sardonic grin Levi seemed to reserve just for me. I didn’t want to lose the intensity in his gaze when he stared at me as though I was something remarkable. I didn’t want to lose the comfortable companionship we had developed over the past two days, or the way he could calm me like no one before ever had. I didn’t want to lose … him.

  Needless to say, rather than stride purposefully into the room and earnestly lay all of my tattered cards on the table, I quietly let myself in and crept across the soft carpet. When I reached the open doorway of the lounge room, I peeked my head around the corner and saw him. Levi was seated on the beige couch, head down, acoustic guitar perched on his lap, strumming a bittersweet melody. He would stop at short intervals, his forehead creased in deep concentration before taking the pen out of his mouth. He would then make changes in the notebook placed on the coffee table in front of him. It was truly the most delectable sight I had ever seen. Directly in front of me was an intelligent, creative and undeniably sexy man all rolled into one.

  My panties wept.

  No, that was the understatement of the century. They howled, screamed and then hurled obscenely inventive abuse at me. Blessedly, Levi was so wrapped up in his music that he didn’t even notice. Or, if he did, he chose not to acknowledge my presence. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, I suddenly felt like an intruder who, if recognized, wasn’t welcome anyway. So, I took one last look at the man who not hours before had given me the most intense orgasm of my life before courageously baring me part of his soul, and turned away. I dragged my miserable ass to the shower. Maybe I could wash away my sins? It was worth a shot.

  There were shards of broken glass still scattered throughout the small room. I was surprised Levi had managed to get himself both in and out, completely unscathed. It was lucky the squat glasses left for rinsing after brushing one’s teeth were not in my daily hygiene repertoire, because I didn’t want to have to explain to the housekeepers why we suddenly needed more of them. They would probably want to hurl a few glasses at the wall after I told them what I had done as well. Besides, to this very day I simply cupped my hands under the faucet to gather the water needed for rinsing. I loved brazenly slurping out of them once full. And to be frank, I honestly didn’t give a shit if it was offensive to whoever shared the bathroom with me or not. It got the job done. End of story.

  I had a quick shower and afterward rummaged through my suitcase for my Hitchcock t-shirt. It wasn’t overly clean but reminded me of home and of a time before I orchestrated this mother of all fuckups. Grabbing the first novel I could find, Wuthering Heights—how freakin’ apt—I crawled into bed, switched on the lamp and started to read.

  Only I couldn’t. Normally, I could easily lose myself in Heathcliff and Catherine’s anger-fuelled love affair as easily as slipping on a glove. Okay, so living in a balmy climate meant I didn’t exactly ever really need to wear gloves, but you get my meaning. Anyway, reading was impossible. With each strum of Levi’s guitar, the chords slowly and painfully pierced my guilt with their heartbroken tenor. The sounds were so melancholy that I found myself staring blankly at what appeared to be a jumbled mess of words on a page. Even worse, was the fact that this jumbled mess then gradually became more and more blurred with each passing minute. Levi humming a sorrowful harmony on top of the forlorn chords was what finally tipped me over the edge and I could no longer fight the tears that fell. They trickled freely down my cheeks.

  I had hurt Levi. His music was telling me so. This knowledge wounded me like nothing I had ever before experienced. I hated that I caused him pain, and the worst part was I honestly didn’t know if he would ever forgive me. Even if he did, I didn’t know if I could ever begin to deserve it. Maybe after a million apologies, interspersed with groveling absolutions of what a horrible person I was, he might forgive me out of sheer frustration. It was a vaguely mollifying thought.

  I dumped the unread book on the nightstand, switched off the lamp and wiped my damp face with the back of my hand. Man, I hadn’t cried in over a year, this was intense. How was it that after only one week I could feel this way? How had this man unknowingly burrowed so far under my skin that hurting him in such a short timeframe felt like an unbelievably deep wound? I rolled my eyes in the semi-darkness. Who was I kidding? I knew Levi would make me feel more than I ever had from the first moment he opened his damn mouth. A week seemed like eternity in comparison.

  After settling down under the blankets, I curled onto my side, begging the whiskey to do the job it was supposed to and help me escape this hell. It didn’t. For what felt like hours, I tossed and turned, saturating my pillow with angry droplets of self-loathing. It was only when the last bars of the guitar finally faded away, the lounge room light was switched off and the mattress bowed under the weight of Levi’s body climbing in next to me, that I could finally stifle my sobs.

  He lay on his back and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the shape of his profile. The man was so distant yet closer than I knew I deserved. Despite this, I selfishly stretched out to him and trailed featherlight fingers down his arm, committing to memory every dip and rise of his taut muscles. It was only when I eventually reached his open hand that I faltered briefly. I took a deep breath and then entwined my fingers with his, holding firmly. Levi didn’t pull away but he didn’t respond to my touch either. Mildly hopeful, I then raised our joined hands to my lips and gently kissed his knuckles. I hoped that through this contact, though brief and not nearly sufficient, he could feel some of my regret. Levi’s breath caught and I could sense an uneasy stillness on his side of the bed. So, not wanting to push my luck, I moved his hand back to where it was.

  But I wouldn’t let go.

  There was no way in hell I was letting go of him tonight.

  “What are you doing here?”

  My sister looked down at her black high heels, she must have come straight from work. “Can I come in?”

  “No. You can’t.”

  She looked up at me and sighed. Pain etched her features. “Look, Monkey—”

  “It’s Grace. My name’s Grace.”

  She took in a sharp breath, her eyes widening momentarily. Exhaling slowly through red lips, she murmured, “I’ve come to apologize.”

  “And that’s going to make everything all right, is it?” I yelled.

  “Grace, please—”

  “After everything you did, you think a fucking apology is going to make it all better? What kind of deluded fool do you take me for? You took everything from me. Everything.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She reached out a placating hand, but I took a determined step back. “I didn’t mean for it all to happen like that. Truly, I didn’t.”

  Tears clouded my eyes. “I trusted you.”

  “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for what I did.”

  I stared at her for a moment. “Well, I guess that makes two of us then.” Turning my back to her, I slammed the front door in her face.

  In the half-light of morning, I shook off the remnants of that painful dream. I hadn’t dreamed about my sister in months and blamed yesterday’s emotional turmoil for dredging those buried memories back up. Needing comfort, I stretched out my hand for Levi. At some point in the night I must have let go of him and my brain suddenly registered the loss of contact through the painful simulation of a vice grip on my contemptible heart.

  Only he wasn’t there.

  My fingers fumbled over cool, crinkled linen, which simply goaded me with the lingering musky scent of his body.

  I quickly sat up and scanned the room. There was no playful note left behind, no text message, nothing. No, he had simply awoken and bailed, leaving me feeling worryingly bereft. At least his guitar and duffel bag were still propped up against the wall. He’d have to return for them at some point, right? Whether it was to co
llect them before leaving for the airport or not, I really didn’t want to contemplate.

  ****

  That Sunday stretched into one of the longest of my life. Somehow it felt even more drawn out than the culmination of the previous week. I mean, at least then I knew what his feelings for me were, even though he kept them carefully restrained. But as I stared out the window at the ominous storm clouds hovering above, I suddenly questioned everything.

  Not wanting to leave the room in case he came back and gave me the opportunity to grovel at his feet, I stumbled out of bed and took an unbelievably long shower. The glass had been cleared up, so thankfully the whole experience wasn’t as torturous as last time. When I finished he hadn’t returned, so I turned on the TV. After an hour of randomly flicking from one infuriating channel to the next, he still hadn’t come back so I switched it off and threw the remote across the room. After that, I tried reading but it was as useless at distracting my attention as it had been the night before. Which meant that after another hour, that too was hurled across the room. I managed to pass a solid half an hour by looking through the conference program on my phone, but then decided to stop kidding myself. I really just wanted to have my mobile on my lap in case Levi called.

  He didn’t.

  When I eventually found myself with my forehead pressed against the glass, counting windows of the building opposite, I finally gave up and wandered downstairs.

  It was late afternoon by the time Patrick, the barman, was mid-way through a one-man play on his greatest sporting achievements. Apparently, the guy was a heck of a lot more accomplished than I’d ever given him credit for. Or ever would.

  Anyway, I was halfway through my second drink when I came to the conclusion that I simply couldn’t take Levi’s silence any longer. Acting on impulse, I grabbed my phone off the bar and texted him.

  Me: Come back.

  A minute later, I then added,