Unstitched

by Jacquie Underdown

  ‘Hello,’ I said.

  ‘Anthea?’ A male voice.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Leith.’

  All colour whooshed from my face and headed directly for my toes. I was woozy. My heart raced. I couldn’t talk to him. Not after…no way.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Roslyn, marching towards me.

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  ‘Leith?’ she asked.

  I nodded.

  Her face twisted into a scowl. She stabbed at the intercom button with her finger. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here?’

  ‘Roslyn? I just want to talk to Anthea. I need to apologise.’

  ‘What makes you think she’d want to talk to an arsehole like you?’

  ‘I need to explain. Please?’

  Roslyn breathed in deeply, turned to me with one eyebrow arched. ‘Your call.’

  I shook my head then threw my palms up in resignation. ‘Let him up. It might be good to vent.’

  Roslyn buzzed him in and spun to face me. Her eyes wandered up the length of my body and rested on my hair. She looked as though she was eating something bitter and distasteful. ‘Go and get changed now.’

  I peered down at my faded purple unicorn pyjama pants and loose fitting, almost see-through singlet. I tugged parted fingers through my knots and sprinted to my room.

  When I returned to the lounge room, I was wearing a pair of jeans and a black, low-cut peplum top. I had tied my hair into a knot on my head and wiped away residual traces of mascara from the corners of my eyes.

  My heart raced when I saw Leith waiting on the lounge, his lips drawn into a tense line. I balled my fists at my side, wanting nothing more than to walk right over to him and punch his face. But I’m not going to let him see how much he has hurt me.

  Leith’s eyes flickered to mine and he stood, wiping his palms on his jeans. ‘Anthea.’ His face was bruised yellow-green from his run-in with Brendt.

  ‘What do you want?’

  He looked at Roslyn, who was throwing him daggers, then back to me. ‘Can we talk in private?’

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping. ‘I guess we can go out onto the balcony. I don’t need to frisk you or anything, do I? You’re not hiding film equipment in your pocket, are you?’

  He frowned and shook his head.

  We sat side by side on the outdoor-setting chairs in the cool of the wintry morning. Leith stared down at his feet, fidgeted with the pull-cord on his jacket.

  ‘Make it quick, Leith. You’re lucky I even let you in.’

  He shifted in his chair, unable to meet my eyes. He was pitiful and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He reached over to take my hand, but I pulled away. There was no way he was touching me ever again.

  ‘I’m really sorry for what I did,’ he said, soft brown eyes finally meeting mine.

  His apology was convincing. If I didn’t know what a great con artist he was, I may have believed him. ‘Well, if you’re finished, you can leave.’

  ‘I’m not finished.’ His neck tensed. ‘I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. I really do like you, Anthea, a lot. More than I realised. It started out as a bet, but then I developed these feelings for you…’

  ‘Yet you still taped us together! You still sent the video to your mates.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve gotten everyone I know to delete it. I promise.’

  ‘Why don’t you get to the point? What is it that you want to achieve from today?’

  He breathed in deeply. Are they tears? Oh, he is too good.

  ‘I don’t expect anything from you, Anthy. I just want to let you know that I’m sorry, and I only hope that you may forgive me.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, which he laid on the table. ‘And I want you to keep this.’

  I glared at the white envelope, the edges crumpled. ‘What is it?’

  ‘One thousand dollars.’

  I stood, the chair scraping against the tiles. ‘I don’t want your dirty money!’ There was no way I could accept that; it would reduce me to the level of a prostitute.

  Leith looked up at me and I saw him clearly for the first time since he arrived. His sandy blond hair was dishevelled, his face unshaven and the sorrow in those eyes, it was all real.

  ‘You earned it, Anthea. It’s not mine to have. I’m really sorry for hurting you.’ He stood and headed to the balcony door.

  Anger boiled my blood, my hands were shaking. I picked up the envelope and pitched it hard at the back of his head. ‘Take your money with you! I don’t want it!’

  Leith’s eyes widened as he rubbed the back of his head. He picked up the envelope from the floor and shoved it in his pocket.

  ‘Bye, Anthy.’ He turned and walked away.

  I stared out at the grey city, the gloomy clouds bruised with imminent rain. I palmed the tears that fell onto my cheeks. More tears because of Leith. I gripped the cold metal rail and squeezed it until my knuckles were white, wanting to scream down at the people darting back and forth along the streets below. I was tired and fed up with it all — my inability to experience love with a man, the endless longing. I was always running away from what I was most scared of and always banging head first into it: lovelessness.

  Who was that devil who waved their big bag of pungent, beautiful emotion under my nose, letting the addictive, deep aromas fill my nostrils and consume my body? Who was that same devil who then abruptly, without any warning, tightly tied the bag shut and threw it off the end of the Earth, leaving me with the impression of those emotions, of the pleasure they bring, but never able to again find anything like it? Who was it, I’d like to know, then I’d love to wrap my hands around their neck.

  Chapter 6

  Brendt

  When the lift doors skimmed open, I was sprawled on the couch in near darkness, the glow of the television casting strobe-like shadows over the room. I turned to face the foyer, smelt her sweet perfume before I saw Anthea walk in.

  I smiled — involuntary. ‘Hey, Anthy.’

  ‘Hi.’ Her caramel eyes darted around the room. ‘Where’re the girls?’

  ‘Rach’s gone to bed — she has a migraine — and I think Roslyn has gone on a date with that guy who stayed over last night.’

  Anthea grinned wide, her eyes sparkling. ‘Wow. This is getting serious.’

  I shrugged, catching her smile. ‘Kinda seems that way.’

  ‘Looks like it’s only you and me then.’ She lifted a white shopping bag filled with takeaway containers into the air. ‘I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve way too much food now.’

  The rich aromas, garlic and basil, wafted over and tickled my hunger. ‘You’re a godsend. I’m starving.’

  ‘Good, now flick on a few lights and I’ll grab us some plates.’

  We settled on the lounge together with an extra-large serving of pasta on our laps. All right, mine was quite a lot bigger than hers. The only decent movie playing on the T.V. was a horror, and I knew that Anthea hated anything remotely scary.

  ‘You sure you want to watch it?’ I asked.

  Anthea shook her head. ‘But I will, I guess.’

  I grinned and turned up the volume.

  When the movie ended, Anthea had her knees pulled up to her chest, hugging them tightly. I fought back a smile.

  ‘That was really sick,’ I said. ‘But you wouldn’t know. I think your hands were over your eyes the entire movie.’

  ‘For good reason. That’s the worst movie I’ve ever seen. Who thinks up these stories? The writer must be borderline psychotic and, at best, insane.’

  I grinned. ‘I have to agree with you there.’

  She frowned, forehead creased. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ I picked up our empty plates from the coffee table. ‘Come on, I’ll help you clean up here.’

  We loaded plates and cutlery into the dishwasher and stacked the leftovers in the fridge.

 
‘Did you want a cup of hot Milo?’ asked Anthea.

  I looked down at my watch. Fuck it. ‘Nah, I better not. I’ve got to get up way too early for work tomorrow.’

  She frowned sympathetically. ‘The downside to doing breakfast radio.’

  ‘The early mornings kill me. I don’t know how Rachel puts up with me with my eyes hanging out of my head half the time.’

  Anthea yawned. ‘I might go to bed, too. I’m tired myself.’ Then she grinned. ‘Although, it’s a nice feeling knowing I get to sleep in tomorrow.’

  ‘Why do you get to sleep in? Aren’t you going to work?’

  She told me about Sabine letting her have a couple of weeks off and jealousy clawed at my chest and throat. ‘I’d love not to show up for work tomorrow. It’s been so tense after what happened with Leith. It’s hard to do a comedic show when you want to rip the other guy’s throat out.’

  Anthea rubbed my arm. I watched her hand and ignored the tightening it caused in my chest. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said with a deep sigh. ‘I feel terrible that you had to get tangled in my mess.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Don’t apologise. Leith deserved everything he got. I actually resigned on Friday anyway. I’ve given a month’s notice, so I guess it doesn’t matter now.’

  Anthea threw her hand over her mouth. ‘You resigned?’

  I confirmed with a nod.

  A long groan rumbled from her chest. ‘Now I feel even worse.’

  I shook my head and smiled. ‘I need a change anyway. Dad’s been on my back about getting in with his property development. It’s time I grew up.’

  ‘Are you truly happy about it? Or is this merely a front for my sake?’

  I laughed. ‘Anthy, I’m happy.’

  She held my eyes with hers for a long moment and finally nodded.

  ‘Anyway, I’m going to head off to bed,’ I said. Weariness from the long, long week was kicking my arse.

  ‘Um, actually, would you mind doing me a favour?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Can you please wait with me while I turn off these lights and walk me to my room?’

  I laughed. ‘You scaredy cat.’

  Anthea grinned, a splotchy blush colouring her cheeks and neck.

  Adorable.

  ‘Movies like that really freak me out,’ she said.

  I followed Anthea as she floated around the apartment flicking off the lights, walked her down the hall to her bedroom and opened the door. I switched on the light for good measure. ‘There you go, chicken.’

  ‘Don’t be cruel. It’s your fault I’m scared. Fancy making me watch a movie like that.’

  I laughed. ‘I asked if you wanted to watch it.’

  Anthea rolled her eyes. ‘That’s not the point.’

  I smiled, leant closer and kissed her on the cheek. Her sweet scent, soap and vanilla, wrapped around me, stroking, tasting. My stomach squeezed. Lips against her soft, soft skin, I managed somewhat coherently, ‘Good night, Anthy.’

  She brushed her cheek against my face and, with her mouth against my ear, she whispered, ‘Good night.’ Her warm breath slid over me. Delicious tingles fanned across my flesh, downwards to nestle warm in my belly. Anthea looked up, lush lips subtly parted with an expression I couldn’t read. My body lingered close to hers, her warmth leaching into my chest. My gaze trailed over her pink cheeks, to her plump, supple lips, wishing it was my mouth roving over her flesh, then stared into her pale brown eyes.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only edge closer. Something was going to happen, had to happen. I breathed in a shallow breath as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. No longer could I resist them.

  Rachel’s bedroom door creaked. I snapped back upright. Anthea hastily stepped backwards into her doorway.

  ‘Hi, Anthy,’ said Rachel, appearing out into the hall, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘I thought I heard talking.’

  My lungs heaved for breath, my heart for temperance.

  ‘Hi. How are you feeling?’ Anthea asked. ‘Brendt said you have a migraine.’

  ‘I did. I got a few hours sleep and I’m feeling a lot better now.’

  I went to Rachel’s side and wrapped my arm around her slender waist. She felt cold.

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it, Brendt?’

  I glanced at Anthea then fixed my gaze on the floor. ‘Yes, it’s great news.’

  Anthea yawned and stretched her arms in the air. ‘I was just heading off to bed. Brendt made me watch a silly horror movie, so I was too scared to walk to my bedroom by myself.’

  ‘You and your imagination,’ Rachel said clicking her tongue.

  ‘Yes. Me and my imagination.’ Her eyes found mine and quickly darted away. ‘Good night.’

  I didn’t speak as Anthea closed the door. My chest tightened; such a terrible pain. I had always been attracted to Anthea, but I blew my chance with her a long time ago. Why couldn’t my body and heart realise I was with Rachel now? For nearly two years.

  Rachel stared at me with knowing eyes, but didn’t say a word.

  Why aren’t you screaming at me?

  Please yell at me.

  Tell me what an awful person I am.

  She walked into her dark bedroom and climbed into bed. I hesitated at the doorway. I needed to keep out of Anthea’s way for a while, at least until I could get my head around what the hell was happening.

  Chapter 7

  Anthea

  I stepped inside the coffee shop and was punched in the nose by the glorious, strong coffee aromas. My most favourite of smells — freshly brewed coffee — among other things, like the scent of a man’s skin as you kiss the nape of his neck, fresh vanilla pods and coconut. This morning, I deserved none of the pleasure of any of those smells. Not after what I nearly did last night.

  I found a table at the back, in a dim corner, and slid into a booth. It was warm. Too warm, so I shrugged out of my denim jacket. The low lighting and adagio jazz did little to straighten my ragged nerves. I truly was a bad person. There was no hiding behind justifications. There were no splitting hairs and pretending that if we weren’t interrupted that it wouldn’t have happened. I nearly kissed my best friend’s boyfriend and that made me a bad person. The worst person.

  Way to start your time-off — time-off intended to get your head straight. Go ahead, nearly kiss Brendt, give yourself something else to…throw more fuel on the…fuck, I need a coffee.

  I opened a menu, perused the long list, eyes peeled for fat, sugar and caffeine.

  The waiter floated to the table to take my order.

  ‘I’ll have a full-cream latte and a choc-caramel muffin with cream cheese icing, please.’

  The waiter scribbled down the order and walked off.

  It was absolutely bucketing down outside. Gusts of wet, cold wind blew in each time the little bell tinkled upon someone’s entry. No wonder the heating was set to high. I pulled a dog-eared, ratty novel from my bag, a romantic distraction. I was engrossed in page twenty-three when a dish clunked onto the table, startling me. I dragged my eyes from my book and strained a smile at the waiter.

  The old brass bells tinkled as the door opened again. An icy gust blew through the room sending shivers up my back and arms, ruffling the pages of my book.

  I should’ve left my jacket on.

  I reached for the denim and looked up at the new face walking through the door. My eyes had settled back on my jacket before my mind registered the familiarity of that face. My stomach tightened.

  Lucas.

  I should’ve looked away. I had enough going on. Surely I was stepping firmly towards more disaster. But his eyes found mine, gorgeously green. They brightened. He smiled, waved, and I could scarcely breathe. I waved back, grinning, before I knew I was still able to do so under these circumstances.

  He looked incredible, dressed in a pair of black jeans, shin-high black boots, and a slate V-neck jumper that skimmed his toned chest and arms. His dark hair hung messy around
his face and I couldn’t think him sexier. My stomach squirmed in a way that felt too good. Holy shit, this man, what he did to me just by looking at him.

  A dazzling smile spread across his face and my muscles eased on a long outtake of air. He came to stand in front of me, his big hands resting on the back of a chair. Even bending, his frame towered over me. His cologne and the musk of his skin consumed me. I crossed my legs and wet my lips with my tongue.

  His eyes met mine. ‘Anthea. It’s good to see you.’

  ***

  Lucas

  I wanted to shake my head in utter disbelief. This meeting, right here and now — serendipitous. It confirmed my belief that our lives had no choice but to cross — that what I was making happen, would have happened regardless of interception.

  Anthea looked edible sitting there, looking up at me. A cute pink glow on her cheeks and those honey-brown eyes she tried to hide behind a silky shock of dark hair. As she drew in deep breaths, her chest rose and fell, plumping the creamy curves of breast teasingly peeking above her low-slung dress.

  Anthea smiled. ‘Hi, Lucas.’

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here on a Monday morning.’

  She coiled a piece of hair around her finger. ‘I’m on annual leave.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  She gestured to the chair opposite. ‘Please, take a seat. If you’re not in a rush.’

  I slid into the chair. ‘I’m in no rush.’

  ‘Good. I’d enjoy the company.’

  I nodded at her book, arched my brows. ‘You sure?’

  She snatched it up and shoved it into her bag. ‘Absolutely. I’ve read that countless times already.’

  I motioned to the waiter and ordered a coffee then leant back in my chair. ‘So why the annual leave? You got plans to go away?’

  Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘It’s a long story.’

  The sadness in her eyes almost unstitched me. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She narrowed her eyes, cocked her head to the side. ‘About what?’

  ‘Whatever has upset you.’

  She waved her hand, dismissive. ‘It’s no big deal, just two shakes of stupidity on my part and a big dash of crazy.’