Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  3

  Evie drew in a deep breath as her brain slowly woke. She scrunched her eyelids tight against the harsh morning light. Head lolling, she snuggled the pillow under her cheek closer, moaning a complaint. She clung desperately to the strands of a wonderful dream, not yet ready to wake.

  Unfortunately, Evie had never been one to fall back to sleep. She would defiantly lay there, delaying the process of waking with fanciful notions. She always gave in, raising herself out of the comforts of the bed to greet the invading morning that roused her. This morning, it was the disappointing dull thrum of a hangover headache.

  She screwed her eyes tighter and tried to will herself back to sleep, as the responsible voice at the back her head took out a calculator and tried to equate how much she much have drunk to feel this shitty—and then how much that must have cost her. The rap-rap-tap-rap of the calculator keys filled her brain, as parts of the night before began to slowly filter back. The numbers racked up to an exorbitant total. She lurched upright, as her brain decided it must know—and now dammit—just where her wallet was.

  This made the pounding worse. The calculator key tapping suddenly the beating of a bass drum, the drum being her skull. She raked her hair back from her face with an impatiently. It felt knotted and tangled, having come undone in her sleep.

  That thought sent her mind off on a tangent. Synapses fired as sense-memories flashed the image of her hair being unbound by feverish hands. Fingers raced through the strands, tangling at the base of her skull to draw her mouth to another. Heat pooled low in her gut, and for a second, Evie wondered if perhaps it had all been a dream—that was until she saw the massive feet sticking out at the far end of the double bed.

  Evie gave a pitiful squeak, somewhere between an eep and full out scream of terror, as she saw that she wasn’t in the tiny bed at the time-warped hotel above Rockstar’s Pub. With her heart pounding in her chest, she twisted in the bed to survey the sleeping form next to her.

  The Scot lay sprawled out on his stomach, hands tucked under his pillow and head twisted to face Evie. Black curls framed his perfect cheekbones, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw made him all the more striking. Evie felt like an intruder, seeing him in such an unguarded state. The low hum of panic that she had been trying to ignore suddenly took over, as she came to the dawning realization that she was…in bed…with Connie!

  Lifting the duvet, she glanced down to survey her own predicament, exposing her bare breasts to the cooled air. She was naked! Hot damn, I slept with him. Part of her wanted to fist-pump the air and squeal in triumphant delight. The rest of her mind was screaming hysterically for her to run!

  Evie glanced from her naked body back to the beautiful man at her side and drew in a deep breath. The still rational part of her brain was trying to reason with her rising panic. Just because they were in the same bed did not mean that they had unequivocally done the deed. Granted, she was naked, but still…maybe he wasn’t. Perhaps she had kicked off her own undergarments during the night because…it was too hot. It was a stretch, she knew, but she was desperate. Evie’s eyes roamed his person from those full lips over the rumble of the blankets to his toes. Then she lifted the covers to peek underneath.

  The answer propelled her straight out of bed. His ass was as gorgeous bare as it had been in jeans. Perfectly round and toned, and…

  They had copulated—wait, copulated? She questioned her internal choice of vocabulary and simultaneously understood why she hadn’t many intimate encounters as of late. I need to lay off the documentaries for a while.

  Now confronted with her own very real nudity, she began to scour the foreign bedroom for her things. The room was small but not as cramped as the one back at the pub.

  Only patched of the floor were visible through the little of clothes, books, and empty take out boxes. Evie tripped over a lone shoe, almost upending herself before she located her panties hanging from the bathroom doorknob. Seriously? How is that even possible? After stepping into them, the redhead tip-toed around the room, dodging a severely underutilized hamper to find her jeans in a ball in the corner.

  Evie pulled them on, noticing a stiff whiskey smelling stain on the knee. She groaned her irritation. With her bra nowhere in sight, Evie gave up and circled back around to the bedroom door. Thankfully in the threshold, she found her tee and slipped it on. It felt weird against her normally bra-clad nipples, and she glanced down to make sure that the girls were not too pronounced. Fat chance! The chill in the room made them prominent but, the tee was dark purple, so at least she had that going for her.

  Evie slipped halfway through the door but paused to glance back at the man in the bed. Connie had shifted his one leg up but otherwise was still fast asleep. She had never felt so double-minded. A part of her wanted to stay—yes, stay and wait for Mr. Gorgeous to wake up and kiss him again! And then there was that other part that still wanted to run—what are you stupid?! Get to the chopper!

  In the end, she sided with the latter, taking the safe choice.

  What if Connie woke just as in shock as she had? What if she was prettier when he was drunk? No. She would leave and spare herself that awkward conversation. She stepped out of the room and softly closed the door, holding back the knob until the door was snug in the jamb, so it didn’t click. Then she made her way through a small hallway to the entrance, finding her grey hoodie with her phone in the pocket. Her purse lay on the floor next to her black flats. She slipped into them and then out the door, which exited to an open metal staircase that descended along the side of the brick building to a back alley.

  She could no longer hesitate. Her need to flee drove her pace, as she stampeded down the stairs without any more forethought. Disorientated by the weird entrance, she had to pull her phone out for directions. It was dead.

  “Dammit!”

  Evie had no choice but to start walking. She walked a long time before finally managing to stumble across The One Horned Mare. Back in the confines of the tiny hotel room, Evie downed a painkiller and plugged her phone back in. As it came back to life, it pinged with more text alerts from Andy.

  A.W. – How was your first night?

  A.W. – Did you go exploring?

  A.W. – I’m feeling ignored :(

  A.W. – Did you lose your phone?

  A.W. – Evie text me! I’m going through withdrawal!

  Evie ignored all of them. She couldn’t bring herself to admit what a shamble this whole venture had become. Last night's affair only made things worse. She sent her friend a quick text, letting him know she was alive and then set her phone to silent so she could sleep. She would make it up to Andy later.

  Falling into a fitful snooze, Evie caught only a few hours of shut-eye. When she awoke, her nerves were lit with anxiety, and her head was still thick with hangover-fog. She tried to appease the crackling need to take control of her train-wrecked adventure by handing her control-freak-nature back the controls.

  Evie began evaluating her meagre belongings and listing the bare minimum of what she would need to start her job. Then she browsed more flatshare ads online, contacting a few in hopes that she could remedy her homelessness before starting her job. Evie knew she couldn’t stay in the hotel for more than a month without blowing through all her savings. Maybe Rockstar would let her moonlight as a bartender to pay for her room.

  Not wanting to dwell on that nauseating conundrum, the redhead took a change of clothes to the shared bathroom for a shower. Having a bathroom that was shared between two rented rooms wasn’t something Evie had experienced before, but she was in desperate need of a shower. To wash her skin of all the shame and tension that built up like a cold, damp sweat.

  Evie stayed under the hot water longer than was necessary. The heat brought back pleasurable memories of Connie’s hands, his bear-sized palms having seared paths into her skin as they had hungrily roamed every square inch of her. Evie’s own hands skimmed along those trails, ghosting after the feeling of those memories that branded
her.

  Evie felt ashamed and humiliated to only recall bits and pieces of the encounter. She rarely drank. It was an expensive hobby, and Evie had prided herself on being above the temptation. This was proof that she obviously wasn’t—worse yet to have it all end in someone’s bed! That was for floozy's and women with an agenda, both of which she wished to remain entitled to say that she wasn’t.

  Yet, as she remembered the intense feeling of those hot hands on her body, roaming with such longing and reverence, she could not bring herself to regret it. Perhaps it had all been a big mistake, but why then did she still want to fist pump the air and squeal with triumph?

  Because he was breathtakingly gorgeous, she giddily reminded herself.

  Evie turned her back to the spray of the showerhead, soaking her long mane of hair. She tried to focus on washing. It was silly to fantasize about the man like a teenager in the thrilling throes of the newly discovered emotion: puppy love. She was an adult, and she had to start being realistic about things. Evie cranked the shower to cold and rinsed her body and mind of the man’s hot touch. She should avoid any further dalliance. She needed to focus on more critical things…like not being homeless.

  Hair wrapped in a towel, she washed the whiskey stain from her jeans and then slipped them back on. Not having any other clothes really sucked, after a night of drinking and…other stuff.

  Evie walked back into her room and took to her mobile, checking for messages and scoping out even more ads. As she swiped through listings, she couldn’t help but recall Connie’s tiny place. Whose door led into a back alley? Granted, space was a commodity here, but she wondered how the large man ever managed in such confined quarters. It was so cluttered and unkempt. He needed to put more priority on his laundry or else find a better way to arrange his things.

  Lord love a duck, Evie chastised herself, face-palming, you just slept with the guy, you don’t need to re-organize his closet!

  The redhead forced herself on task, even though her heart and head really weren’t in it. She had been possessed, and now all she could think about was not thinking about Connie. It was distracting!

  Her phone chimed with an incoming message. To her surprise, it was a response to one of her inquiries. The flat was small, but there were two rooms, and, against all the odds, it appeared to be in a prime location for her commute. Evie didn’t hesitate to request a meeting.

  Crossing her fingers, Evie rose to deal with her wet hair, but when she tried the bathroom door, it was locked. So, there were other guests crazy enough to stay in Rockstar Roy’s time-warped rooms! She stood outside the door and waited. She was disappointed when she heard the shower turn on. Evie had to settle for a quick finger-comb, opting to braid it wet. It would just have to do until she got out to the mall to grab a hairbrush and some cosmetics. As she weaved in the ends and tied it off, she cell chimed again.

  The meet up was a go. Serena suggested a public meeting at the Starbucks in the mall, which worked perfectly. Evie typed back a quick acceptance and then grabbed her grey sweater and purse.

  For once, it wasn’t raining. The sun was out, brilliant and warm. Evie enjoyed the fresh air, as she walked to the mall, her hangover waning. She came across a thrift store and was lucky enough to find some clothes to get her through until her luggage was located—for a fraction of the cost. Every little bit helped to save her budget.

  The redhead arrived at the mall early enough to collect some cosmetics and personal hygiene essentials. She immediately found a washroom and brushed her fuzzy teeth, so thankful to feel fresh again. With time still to spare, Evie went to the coffee shop early, hoping to sip a latte and catch up on her reading.

  The aromatic scents that filtered out from behind the counter were enough to remind Evie that her stomach was running on empty. She bypassed the bagels and wraps for the calls of ‘eat me,’ from a sweet treat.

  “A chocolate scone, please,” Evie requested, unable to help the stupid excited grin that accompanied her near drooling anticipation.

  The boy behind the counter reached in and plucked the fattest of the bunch, as Evie ordered a flat white. She settled at the back in a leather chair, sharing a coffee table with a pint-sized teen. With the scone hanging from her maw, she dug out her novel, finding Dr. Jackson where she had left him.

  The bookmark with her fangirl crush always made her smile. I’m such a geek, she thought, as she tucked the marker at the back of the book. She always left his face visible, so he could watch over her as she relaxed and read.

  Sipping her drink and devouring her scone, the redhead was just beginning to get swept away again in the character’s adventures, when she heard a delighted squeal. Evie looked across at the tiny teen in the adjacent chair. Her eyes were bright with excitement, as she pointed.

  “I love your bookmark!” she said, leaning forward to get a better look. “I was sad when the show ended.”

  Evie felt invaded, but out of courtesy, she raised the book up to better display the bookmark. She gave a conversational reply, “Me too.”

  The girl sat back in her chair, beginning to discuss the finer points of the Sci-fi TV show, and Evie listened, too polite to ignore the chatterbox. Without any engagement, the girl just kept on going, and on closer inspection, Evie could see that the girl was not a teen—just tiny.

  As annoying as it was to be bothered while she was obviously trying to read, Evie regarded the young woman’s delicate bones and fine features. Decked out in a crop top and a black bomber, with blue jean shorts and bright pink hi-tops, the tiny woman appeared much younger, her stature notwithstanding.

  “Sorry to keep you from reading,” the girl finally concluded, adding nonchalantly, “you must be on a lunch break.”

  “Just waiting for someone,”

  “Oh…yer accent,” the girl commenting, cocking a coy smirk before hazarding a guess, “American?”

  Evie shook her head. She wasn’t going to get back to the book, so she put Dr. Jackson back in place, and corrected, “Canada.”

  “Och, aye,” the girl said, snapping her fingers as though to say, I was close.

  Evie took a sip of her latte, as the other girl turned her attention to her smartphone. Perhaps she would be able to get back to her book, after all. Evie tentatively opened the novel and began to read again when she interrupted again. This time by her own phone.

  The redhead pulled it out to see that it was a message from Serena, letting her know she had arrived. Evie looked about the Starbucks, but no one jumped out. She sent a quick response back.

  The phone next to her pinged, and the two girls looked up at one another again.

  “Serena?” Evie asked as the other girl laughed in acknowledgement.

  Lacking a moment of tact, Evie blurted, “You’re early.”

  “Always,” Serena chirped, not at all ashamed, “funny us meetin’ like this. Glad to see we have something in common, though.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, I have a flatshare,” Serena said, as they shook hands and exchanged names formally.

  They discussed the arrangement in detail, and when they were finished, Serena suggested, “Seeing as you like SG-1 and you look pretty much harmless…are you interested in taking a look?”

  Evie nodded and got to her feet, tossing the novel in her purse, as she grabbed her to-go cup.

  “Wait,” the girl deadpanned. Her full lips were set in a stiff purse, demanding, “What did ya get?”

  “Get?”

  “Yeah,” the girl repeated emphatically, pointing at the cup in Evie’s hand.

  “Oh, um, a flat white.”

  ““I have a feeling we will get along just fine.” Serena crowed happily, raising a hand that sparkled with rings for Evie to high five,

  They talked as they walked to the flat. Well, Serena talked. She had lived in the area for several years and had shared the flat up until recently with a travel-bug, who had been too captivated by her last destination to return.