Layers

by Sigal Ehrlich

  These affectionate gestures again, I just hope their opposite siblings will not rear their hurtful heads also tonight.

  “Now, let’s get snacks.” His lips quirk to a smile and he directs me back to the house, never releasing his grip of my hand. I can sense his stare on me as we walk side by side, talking about everything and nothing.

  Daniel places a popcorn bag into the microwave. While we wait, he asks me what I would like to drink.

  “So, about that fund raising event, Hayley. How about it? Will you be my plus one?”

  Why wouldn’t you call it a date? The formality itches.

  “Won’t you be occupied? It’s an event you’re hosting, correct?”

  “No. My company hosts the event,” he sighs, scratching his temple, his eyes moving from me to the microwave and back. “I’m not so keen about these events. Don’t get me wrong, I do highly appreciate what they stand for, and the outcome, but I could live without all the attention. You’d be welcome entertainment,” he says, smiling, tilting his head. Some strands of his hair rise up and stay that way. It enhances his rugged look, and I like every bit of it.

  “I usually let my people be in the spotlight and stay back,” he adds.

  I like the sound of this; it warms my heart, this humble layer of him again.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Penetrating hazel eyes searching mine.

  “I like the fact that you don’t enjoy the spotlight,” I say quietly. “I thought you’d be different,” I add.

  “Different how?”

  “Good different,” I mumble, looking at him under my lashes.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hayley.” He regards me with a heartwarming smile. The microwave beeps.

  “Here, hold the sodas.” Handing me two bottles, he grabs the popcorn from the microwave with one hand and a family-sized pack of M&Ms in the other. I smirk; he looks almost boyish, carrying all this junk disguised as food.

  “What kind of movies do you prefer?” he asks as we walk slowly toward the cinema room.

  “I have varied taste when it comes to movies. I like almost any genre,” I answer thoughtfully.

  “How about some drama for this evening?”

  Please no drama this evening, I had enough the last time. “Drama sounds great.” I award him with a slim smile. He smiles back, the little scar on his lip teasing me as he does. So we’re actually going to watch a movie. I definitely cannot read you, D. I take off my jacket and slide into the cushioned lounger. Daniel, already comfortably slouched in the lounger next to me, drinks in my every move.

  “I’m ready.” I grin at him; his lips curve and his eyes turn somewhat intense.

  Ready to watch a movie, that is. “What are we watching?”

  “Blood Diamond,” he answers, eyes still stripping me. “It’s pretty old. I haven’t had the chance to see it, but it comes highly recommended, and you can never really fail with DiCaprio.”

  “I can’t disagree with that,” I murmur and swallow hard, tense till he finally moves his predatory gaze away from me.

  Daniel points the remote at the screen and it comes to life as the lights slowly dim out.

  “Popcorn?” he asks, tilting the bag toward me.

  “M&Ms, please.” I beam at him. The amused stretch of his lips widens as he hands me the bag. I sink deeper in the comfortable embrace of the chair and rest my left hand on the sofa’s arm. Soon Daniel covers it with his, lightly caressing. As a response to his touch my body inevitably trembles slightly.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, husky and low.

  On the contrary, my body’s reaction to your touch, sir, is far from being anywhere near cold.

  “A little. I have my jacket,” I say, reaching for the oh-so unnecessary cover.

  “I have a better suggestion.” His eyes twinkle in the faint light of the screen. “Come over, sit next to me. I’ll keep you warm.”

  My heart tightens at the thought of what lies under these promising words. Breath is trapped in my throat as I stand up to sit next to him. Perhaps we won’t watch this movie after all.

  He shifts to accommodate enough space for me next to him, and I find myself lying by his side, his arm embracing me, my face comfortably resting on his firm chest, my leg on his. I am thoroughly cradled by him in this sweet darkness.

  Daniel’s hand strokes my arm while we pretend to watch the movie. It’s too hard to concentrate in this tense proximity. I can feel his warmth, enriched with his intoxicatingly scented breath softly hovering over my face. All I yearn for is his lips to connect with mine. I tilt my head up to level with his stare; he inclines his face, his eyes drop to my lips for a fleeting moment, somewhat hesitant, and come back up to meet mine. At the encounter our eyes immediately lock, and the charge between us rapidly intensifies. He moves his hand to stroke my face, very gently starting from my cheekbone and slowly descending toward my neck. Everything beneath my navel churns with anticipation.

  Daniel’s stare dims, full of feral promise, as he keeps on descending his stroking hand toward my cleavage, moving farther south to my breast, all the while his eyes on mine, seeking consent. His touch is getting more intense; I swallow hard; my body responds to him with keenness by arching to press deeper against him.

  When his hand reaches my belt, he slides it under my top, gently grazing my skin with his fingers, raising tiny bumps all over. I am melting into his touch. Moving down again, he slides his hand under my belt and lowers it toward my underwear. I hold my breath as his warm touch reaches under the delicate satin fabric; heat waves flush through me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. Pressing harder against my skin his hand descends, instigating a sweet, sweet pain.

  He bends his head toward me and his lips halt at my neck, kissing it with warm, seductive, saturated kisses. He gradually moves his hand back and presses it flat against my waist, turning on his side, lying parallel to me, minimizing the gap between us. I slant my head to look at him, and our breaths blend. His face is lightly flushed, his eyes narrow, dilated pupils deepening his stare.

  “Why won’t you kiss me?” I breathe quietly, looking at him under my lashes.

  “I don’t kiss if I don’t mean it.” His voice is cold, cutting hard through me.

  What do you mean by that? I shrug inside, feeling as though a bucket of ice cold water was just brutally spilled over me, in one stroke killing the build up to this moment.

  I look at him with a mixture of astonishment and fury. He acts like he’s all into me and then come these wounding words.

  “What do you want from me, Daniel?” I ask, choking, very, very close to standing up and walking away.

  “I don’t know,” he says, resting his head back with closed eyes, his face troubled.

  “For a very determined man you don’t seem too decisive to me,” I say quietly, frustrated. “Is it anything specific about me?” I ask. “I’d be more than fine with the knowledge that all you want is to fuck me, though you sure have a strange way of showing it,” I continue, as anger takes the better of me.

  “No, it’s not you.” He frowns at me and continues. “The thing is that I’m accustomed to something completely different.” I look at him absolutely puzzled, waiting for some sort of blessed elaboration to come, as I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. “I haven’t dated anyone for a very long time now,” he says.

  “Is it by choice? Were you abstaining?” I ask, still perplexed. It doesn’t seem like he would have a hard time finding dates.

  “Oh no, I don’t. On the contrary. I see only professionals.”

  I gawk at him in complete dismay, trying hard to make sense of what he just said. The hell?

  “Call girls, Hayley. Very expensive ones, who never misinterpret ‘no strings attached’, and no, I don’t kiss them,” he retorts.

  I’m not a call girl, so why won’t you kiss me? This is getting too hurtful; I’m getting more genuinely upset with every passing moment. There is a rapidly expen
ding lump forming at the bottom of my throat. I thought I would be immune to him just like I was with all of his predecessors, but I’m not. Who am I kidding? I am so far from that. In the very short time we’ve known each other he’s managed to get under my skin, which allows him to hurt me like he just did.

  I inch myself upright, and he studies me attentively, waiting for me to make a move or speak.

  “I can’t do this, Daniel,” I murmur under my breath, grabbing my jacket. “I thought I could, but it seems I can’t.”

  “Don’t, Hayley. Come back and lie next to me,” he says, his tone low and frustrated. He extends a hand toward me, but in mid-reach retrieves it to rest it on his thigh.

  “And do what, Daniel? Fuck again and end up feeling empty and hurt by your reaction? You’ll just send all these mixed messages and play with my brain. No thank you, I’ll pass.” My eyes direct fire his way.

  He looks at me like he’s irritated or a tad dismayed, biting the side of his thumb.

  “I am not a call girl; I am not here to entertain you as you please.”

  “I never said you were one, Hayley.” His voice becomes cold and hoarse.

  “No Daniel, you didn’t, but you just made me feel like one.” I snort. “I don’t kiss if I don’t mean it,” jumps to my mind again, burning deep inside. I stand up and take a deep breath. “I’m leaving now.” Against my will, my words come out weak.

  “Don’t, Hayley,” he says, and tries to take my hand.

  “Sorry, this is too much for me.” I hold my hands up. “I seriously thought I could handle it, could handle you, but I can’t.” He appears to be highly effected but at this point I really don’t care how he feels or what he thinks.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” he utters, half to me, half to himself.

  “Don’t bother,” I murmur, and yet he does. We walk through the corridor in mortifying silence, and it seems like with every step the wall between us grows higher. When we get to the door, he hugs me and inclines his head, resting his forehead on mine, his eyes studying me. Again these acts of affection. I can’t do this.

  “Bye, Daniel.” I pull myself out of his embrace and our connection.

  “Don’t go, Hayley … or at least let me drive you back. It’s too late and too cold.”

  “I’m a big girl. Believe me, I can manage without you.” I can’t wait to get out of here and away from him. “Goodbye,” I snap and storm out. By the light coming from the house I know that he’s standing there looking at me, but I don’t give a damn; I just can’t wait to get away.

  My mind is in such turmoil all the way home, all I want to do is get into my bed and sleep off the evening. I don’t even want to think about it, about him.

  Utterly consumed by my irritation and my thoughts, I look ahead, without really seeing the road. Tearing me out of my thoughts, the scooter jerks beneath me and in less than a heartbeat my body comes in contact with hard asphalt.

  I am frozen.

  For a few minutes I lie on my side, hurt, shaken, and muddled, till everything around me dims.

  ~~~

  Bright light prompts my eyelids to flutter, and I try to force them open as I hear a voice gently saying my name.

  “Miss Grace. Hayley.” A nurse with big, soft, blue eyes smiles warmly down at me.

  “Hayley.” A raspy, familiar voice comes from my other side. With a speeding heart and spiked nerves, I reflexively pivot to search for the man behind the voice. As a reaction to my hasty movement, sharp throbbing envelops my head. Daniel’s eyes meet mine and narrow; he bites his lip, grimacing at the twitch of pain that crosses my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low, filled with worry.

  For a silent second of eternity, I just look at him as he studies me with concern. Disregarding his question, I break our tense connection and return to face the nurse. Answering my apparent confusion, she explains that, as it seemed, I crashed the scooter. She adds that it was probably due to an oil stain or a small rock. I take a deep breath, processing this surreal craziness I’ve found myself in.

  “You were lucky enough to get out of it with just a couple of bruises,” the nurse says as she presses a button, inclining my bed to an almost sitting position. She adjusts my pillow and offers me a glass of water. I take a few sips, still scattered, quenching my thirst while I listen to her.

  Many questions run through my mind, but they all turn into one. What is he doing here?

  “We’ll keep you here for a couple of hours just to make sure you’re fine, and if everything is okay, you’ll be able to go home.” She glances at Daniel and back at me. To my continuing silence she says, “Your scooter was brought in by Mr. Stark.” She tilts her chin toward Daniel.

  The nurse rests her comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be back with Dr. Spencer shortly. Try to rest.” Her smile is kind, genuine.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” She starts toward the door. As soon as she turns her back, I feel Daniel’s warm hand covering mine. Slowly, I turn my head to face him, pulling away slightly. Sensing my recoil, he tightens his grip.

  “How?” is all I manage to say before he answers my question.

  “They called me. Apparently I was the last number on your call list.” He squeezes my palm again. I slip my hand out of his grip; a pulse of heat keeps radiating where his skin just touched mine. He twists his mouth but doesn’t say a word, his stare a mixture of worry and muddled emotions.

  “Are you hurting? Are you okay?” His eyes run over my face.

  I nod, not even sure how I feel, and quietly say, “Thank you for bringing my scooter. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but please leave …”

  “Hayley …” His dense voice is tinged with frustration.

  I don’t need your pity, I don’t need your help, I don’t need you here. I. Don’t. Need. You. You made your point earlier, loud and clear. I shake my head, swallowing the pain this simple action causes.

  “Hayley, I want to be …”

  I cut him mid-sentence, slightly raising my hand, “Just leave …” My words are a sigh.

  “I wanted to make sure you were fine,” Daniel says solemnly, captivating my eyes, holding my gaze for a long moment. I tear my stare away; my eyes remain downcast as I slowly shake my head. He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns on his heels, stepping out of the room, not before sending a last grim glance my way.

  Till I am allowed to go home, I spend the time feeding my hurt ego and confused mind with visions from that night.

  Chapter 10: Blast Effect

  The smell of fresh brewed coffee teases my nose, encouraging me to wake up. I fetch my phone to check what time it is, and as the phone restarts an unread text message pops onto the screen. I minimize it, deliberately disregarding it, guessing who it’s from. It is barely eight thirty, I have plenty of time. I don’t have to be at work before noon.

  Halfway through getting dressed, I check the bruises on my hip, the only visible evidence from the newly named “night to be forgotten.” On the spot, I decide not to tell Tasha, Ian or anyone else for that matter about the accident. The last thing I want is to be preached to about the scooter and safety.

  Walking into the kitchen, I find it empty, and I recall that it’s Tasha’s first day at work. She must have left already. I go back to get my phone from the room then turn the coffee machine on, letting it heat up. Popping an Advil to kill the remnants of a headache, I dial Tasha’s number.

  “Hey you,” her cheerful voice greets me.

  “Hey, working girl.”

  “Remarkable choice of words, Missy,” she chuckles. The irony stings …

  “Are you there already?”

  “Just arrived. Going to see your new BFF Mrs. Greenich.”

  “Make sure to send her all my love when you see her.” We both snicker.

  “I’ll call you later, Hales, okay? After I’ve settled in.”

  “Okay. Knock em’ dead.”

  “Rest assured, I will.” I’m sure yo
u will. Through her giggles she says goodbye.

  Back at the kitchen I make myself a mug of dark coffee and head back to bed. Placing the coffee on my nightstand, I turn on the laptop and position it on my lap. As it comes to life I browse through the news and check my inbox. There’s an email from Daniel. I look at the unread mail with mixed emotions, mostly anger, but my curiosity overcomes me.

  Curiosity, Hales? Ask the cat how well it worked for him …

  Hayley,

  You didn’t reply to my text last night and got me worried. Hope you arrived safely after all and that you’re well.

  I never planned for last night to end like it did.

  Let’s talk.

  DS

  I can’t deal with him right now; I don’t want to deal with him right now. I close my laptop and head to the shower.

  ~~~

  The time at work barely passes; each time I check the clock the minute hand seems stuck at the same angle. The phone hardly rings and there aren’t too many requirements for my assistance. Even Mrs. Never Got Laid seems mellow, definitely not her usual cruel self. I’m bored, looking at the PC in front of me; I chuckle inwardly and Google “Psychopathic Characteristics.”

  About 121,000,000 results in less than 0.24 seconds

  Signs of irrational thinking: Check

  Nervousness or neurotic manifestations: Check

  Unreliability: Check

  Lack of remorse or shame: Check

  Antisocial behavior without apparent compunction: Check

  Poor judgment and failure to learn from experience: Check

  Pathological egocentricity and incapacity for empathy: Check

  Frantic and inadequate behavior: Check

  And we have a match!

  I decide that now’s as good a time as ever to answer him.

  Daniel,

  I’m sure you didn’t plan for last night to end like it did. Neither did I, but that doesn’t change what happened.