Cherry Red Summer (Emely and Elyas Book 1)

by Bartsch, Carina

  Elyas laughed softly. “No, that wasn’t my plan, actually.” Now he kept his arm to himself.

  “So, Domenic,” I said, turning a shoulder to Elyas. “Where were we?”

  We had been talking about music and picked up our conversation where we had been forced to leave off. I think I came across as confident, chatting cheerfully with Domenic, although inside I was anything but. This situation was too constricting. I felt tense, and I hated it when Elyas’s leg grazed mine under the table. I couldn’t be sure he was doing it on purpose, since his legs were making normal little movements now and again, so I kept my accusations to myself.

  Meanwhile, Alex and Sebastian seemed a bit inhibited at first, but they loosened up more and more over time. Elyas mostly listened in on my conversation with Domenic, but fortunately didn’t butt in.

  “You play in a band?” I said.

  “Yeah. I’m a drummer.”

  “What kind of music?”

  “Mainly rock, with some grunge, punk, and electronica influences,” he replied. “But it’s not a big thing. We’ve only played two small gigs; otherwise, we just perform in the rehearsal room.”

  “I’d say two gigs are more than most garage bands have under their belts,” I said.

  “We’re scheduled to do a third, actually,” he said with a promising smile. “But the date hasn’t been finalized yet.”

  “When you find out more, you’ll have to let me know. I’d love to come.”

  I was always up for rock, so I really was interested in coming, though I mostly wanted to irk Elyas.

  “Sure, I’ll let you know. Although it may be a while,” he said with a wink.

  “You do realize you’ll have to throw your drumsticks to me, right?”

  He laughed and nodded. “I think you’ll be the only one who even wants them.”

  “We’ll talk after the concert when I’ve gotten my requisite ten scratch marks on my face from the other groupies,” I joked, although after I said it I wondered what was wrong with me. A couple more comments like that, and he would definitely think I liked him—which was totally not the case.

  “I don’t think you need to worry.” He grinned, sipped his drink again, and then stood. “Be right back,” he said, turning and walking toward the bathroom. Alex, who had been giving me withering glares, was deep in conversation with Sebastian, so my side of the table suddenly turned silent.

  “That impresses you?” Elyas asked, breaking the quiet.

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “What impresses me?”

  “That he’s got a ‘band’?” he mimicked.

  “You know I’m on the lookout for a boyfriend who I can brag about to all my little girlfriends,” I said, repeating what he had accused me of a few weeks ago.

  He smirked. “I admit my opinion may have changed.”

  “Congrats,” I snipped.

  After Domenic returned, the separate conversations at the table gradually merged into one. Sebastian was really nice. There was a level-headed, low-key air about him that made him easy to talk to. He was pleasant and smart but not full of himself. Sebastian was the sort of person there were too few of.

  I observed how he and Alex interacted, and caught the two of them stealing glances at each other. They were just so cute that I kept finding myself with a silly grin on my face.

  Elyas and Domenic largely ignored each other, bearing out my original suspicion from the club that they didn’t think much of each other. I didn’t know what the deal was, but it evidently had nothing to do with me. They must have had some kind of falling-out a long time ago. Though this aroused my curiosity, I wasn’t brave enough to ask either of them about it.

  Elyas, who unfortunately wasn’t ignoring me, managed to spoil my yummy strawberry margarita. Every time I took a sip, he stared at my mouth. You could read his thoughts on his face, imagining licking my lips off for me. Elyas wasn’t just looking at me—he was eye-screwing me. So I stopped sipping my drink. But why was it my job to get him to stop?

  Sebastian started talking about majoring in psychology. I listened intently, but then heard a rustling sound.

  “Have you been shopping?” Elyas asked as he lifted my bag, which I had set next to my chair. My hand popped over, but Elyas was faster. When he realized I didn’t want him to look inside, curiosity sparked in his eyes and an impudent smirk formed on his lips. I leaned over his lap for another desperate attempt to get my damned bag. Elyas took full advantage of the length of his arms and held the bag out farther. The physical proximity to him was extremely uncomfortable, but he seemed to enjoy it.

  I sat up straight and rested my hands in my lap. “Please give me my bag, Elyas.”

  He thought it over for a moment, and then he said, “No.” He turned away from the table with his back to me and snuck a peek inside. He apparently couldn’t tell what the contents were, so he put his hand in and felt around.

  I had lost. I took a deep breath, waiting for the moment he would present my newly acquired lingerie to the table. This was going to go down on my Top Ten Most Embarrassing Moments list. And it wasn’t going to be one of those stories you laugh about ten years later. What Elyas was doing was mean.

  Once he seemed to have figured out what was in the bag, he looked over his shoulder at me and suggestively raised an eyebrow. Get it over with, jerk, I thought, swearing I would never again utter another syllable to him.

  As if in slow motion, Elyas grabbed hold of an object that he slowly pulled out into the light. I closed my eyes, wishing the earth would swallow me. I trembled for a few seconds.

  “You’re making all this fuss about a book and a CD?”

  I opened my eyes. He flashed me a brief, seductive smile before he looked at the CD in his hands. “I know this band. I recently picked up this CD myself,” he said before putting it back with the book and lingerie. “Emely, dear,” he said. “I had no idea you had such good taste in music.”

  I avoided his eyes and grabbed the bag. He held it back one last time before finally handing it over, still smirking. He stroked my fingers as I took it, the jerk. I grumbled, pulling back my hand and crumpling the bag so I could hide it back under the table. To ensure another idiot couldn’t come up with the same bright idea, I squeezed the bag between my ankles and didn’t loosen up for the rest of the night.

  Even though Elyas had spared me the worst, I was still annoyed that he had rummaged through my purchases. His seductive looks at me became more intense after his little stunt, doing nothing to improve my mood. I ignored him and imagined erasing him from my reality with a gigantic rubber eraser. I’d been cool toward him before, but now I was positively Arctic. All the same—and this was driving me crazy—I suddenly noticed him leaning closer to me. Everyone was so packed in around the table that I couldn’t lean farther away. All I could do was tensely cross my arms as I felt his warm breath on my skin.

  “I hope you realize,” he whispered softly into my ear, “that the very idea of you wearing underwear like that will keep me from ever closing my eyes again.”

  His voice and words ran down my back like ice water, and I felt my ears start to glow red. I was annoyed I was reacting to him this way, and I was even more annoyed that Elyas was noticing.

  “And I hope you realize,” I softly snarled back, “that you won’t live long enough to open your eyes again if you go nosing around in my bags again.”

  He smirked at me with a twinkle in his turquoise-colored eyes as he slowly straightened.

  God, how I hated this guy.

  My attempt at erasing him from my brain was not working. Elyas wasn’t a thin line of graphite. He was a permanent marker that soaked through my life. A half hour later I still was feeling awkward, so I decided to call it a night and head home. Alex seemed sad, but since I would not be dissuaded, she relented. “Well, have a good night,” she said, “and be careful on your
way home.” Elyas naturally imposed by offering to drive me home, but he could forget it. Ten Clydesdales wouldn’t have been strong enough to get me alone with him today.

  Domenic also offered to take me home, but I turned him down, too. The bus would be fine.

  After saying good-bye to everyone, apart from Elyas, I made my way to the bus stop.

  The ride home was only fifteen minutes, and the first thing I did upon entering my dorm room was stuff my new lingerie into the backmost corner of my closet. Then I spent a while in the shower. The only reason I got out, in fact, was that Eva knocked, saying she also needed to take one. I opened the door in nothing but a nightshirt, and Eva said, “Finally!” I got out of her way and climbed into bed.

  The aftermath from the incident at the bar swirled in my head. For the love of God, how could I have been so feeble-minded as to let that bag out my sight for even a second? I didn’t understand. I should have expected what happened to happen. It was sheer stupidity on my part. “I hope you realize that the very idea of you wearing underwear like that will keep me from ever closing my eyes again.”

  Every day he became an even bigger, pushier jerk. Would he never stop terrorizing me? Ugh!

  What was he getting out of all this nonsense, anyway? What did he want from me? I wasn’t the beauty he had described, and I didn’t fit the profile of his usual prey.

  What was his deal? Did he hate me? Or was he just out of other opportunities?

  I didn’t have any of the answers, and I was upset to be thinking about it at all. To escape my thoughts, I pulled out my new CD, slid it into the player, and put on my headphones. And . . . wow. The music wasn’t just good; it was great! It also achieved what I couldn’t seem to do by myself—pushing Elyas into the basement of my mind. I felt much more relaxed after listening to the album twice. I took off my headphones, got under the covers, and was able to drift off.

  But before dreamland fully enveloped me, the buzz of my cell phone startled me. I fumbled in the dark for the phone and finally took it from the nightstand. A text message from . . . ugh, Don’t Answer.

  Have I ever told you how much I miss you every night?

  Please, I thought, go take a cold shower, Elyas.

  Another one buzzed from Don’t Answer: Dream something sweet, my angel.

  I sighed and set the phone back down. I closed my eyes for the last time before slowly dozing off. My angel . . .

  My ass.

  CHAPTER 10

  BREAKING THE ICE

  My eyes scanned the lecture hall as the professor discussed the history of French literature. The hall was unremarkable—medium in size—and the farther back you were, the higher you sat. I was near the center, trying to focus on the lecture, but to no avail. My mind kept wandering, and I repeatedly caught myself daydreaming and doodling on my notepad. Luca’s last e-mail was the reason. I needed to consider how I was going to respond.

  Dear Emely,

  No, unfortunately, I haven’t been out and about in the world much yet. A few years ago I spent some time abroad, but it was more for learning than having fun. Something you and I have in common is a desire to travel the whole world. What’s holding me back, unlike you, isn’t just a lack of money. I’m also looking for the right person to travel with.

  I used to go on trips with my friends, and we visited places throughout Germany and in neighboring countries. Of those trips, only two were real vacations; the others are best described as excursions, maybe even just outings. Although I have fond memories of those trips—how should I put it?—let’s just say that my friends and I had our share of fun and maybe got into some trouble, but that’s what you do with friends, and it doesn’t matter where you are. Apart from the scenery and the weather, it doesn’t make a huge difference if you’re playing beach volleyball next to a flooded gravel pit or on the Adriatic.

  That used to be exactly how I wanted things. But on my last couple of trips, I started feeling like that wasn’t enough. I wanted another person at my side, someone I loved. Someone I could share new experiences with. The thing is, I don’t just want to see the world per se; I’d like to show the world to a woman who means the world to me.

  I’m sure that sounds corny, but it’s how I feel, and I’m hoping you might have an inkling of what I mean. Notions like these are probably odd to you, though.

  Be honest: Do you pity me now? Did I scare you off? (How is it, though, that I suspect the latter is close to impossible?)

  Hope you have a great day.

  See you soon,

  Luca

  Luca was like sugar: just sweet.

  His fear I might not understand him was unfounded. I could count all of my past vacations on one hand, and I had traveled outside Germany only once. A trip to Holland didn’t seem far enough to count. It’s not like crossing an ocean or anything.

  I mulled over Luca’s idea: What would it be like to travel the world with someone I loved?

  I sighed and doodled some more. Why did he think he might have scared me off? The only thing that concerned me was whether a guy had actually written the e-mail, because it sounded more like something I’d expect from a woman.

  Maybe Alex was right and I should set up an in-person meeting. Luca and I had been writing for more than six weeks now. The longer I put it off, the greater my potential disappointment. Even if Luca wasn’t some computer nerd with greasy hair, who knew whether we’d feel as compatible with each other in person as in writing?

  There was no guarantee.

  As unrealistic as a soap-bubble world could be, it was still really nice. Meeting in person would change that. Once we met, the theoretical phase would be over, and only the applied phase would be left.

  My shoulders slumped as the tip of my pen continued gliding over the paper, doodling a brick wall. Did Luca feel this way, too? He hadn’t raised the question of meeting, either. There might be a thousand reasons for that, and I’d run though a good number of them in my head. Luca somehow couldn’t bring himself to talk to me in person, so he e-mailed me instead. In other words, Luca was shy. But why did he lack self-confidence? He was eloquent, smart, and charming; he had a good sense of humor; and he had his own opinions that he stood behind. The only part I couldn’t assess was his looks. Was he afraid I wouldn’t like them?

  Another theory, which I was starting to seriously consider, was that Luca was gay and in the closet. Nearly everything he wrote was atypical for a straight guy. It would fit perfectly into my series of pathetic, failed relationships. Gay male was one category I hadn’t been able to check off yet in my dating history.

  The lecture hall’s rear door opened and someone quietly made their way down the center aisle. I didn’t turn my head; personally, there was nothing I found more awkward than having all the eyes in a room trained on me at the same time. I still didn’t turn around, even when I heard footsteps and whispered “sorry”s and “excuse me”s from the row behind me. Instead, my thoughts continued to focus on Luca. The mere idea of standing face-to-face with him, in the flesh, made my heart pound in my throat.

  My daydreams were interrupted sooner than I wanted, because I suddenly felt someone’s breath in my hair from behind me. Before I knew what was going on, I heard a soft “boo.”

  I winced and turned around to find that Elyas had taken a seat diagonally behind me and was smiling at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

  I stared at him. What, oh what, had I done in my life to deserve this?

  Elyas bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms. His head was cocked to the side so I was perfectly in the sights of his bioweapon eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed, turning to face forward again.

  “I’m visiting you during your lecture.”

  “What about going to your own lectures?”

  “That was actually my plan,” he sighed, “but then I
’d have missed you so terribly.”

  I glared angrily at him over my shoulder, earning a charming smile in return. That jerk!

  I faced forward again. “You’re like sugar, Elyas,” I grumbled.

  “Sweet?” he said, sounding cheerfully surprised.

  “No, sticky,” I hissed, putting an end to the conversation. Couldn’t I be safe from him even in my lectures anymore?

  I tried to concentrate on the professor, but I felt Elyas’s finger on my shoulder. I turned as though struck by lightning.

  “You had a loose hair there,” he explained.

  “Even if there were a rattlesnake on my shoulder, that would give you no right to ever touch me!” I snapped, turning away from him again, although from the corner of my eye I saw him motioning with his hands for me to calm down, a smirk on his face.

  The big clock over the lectern said I still had twenty minutes to go. Twenty minutes. Or 1,200 horrific, uninterrupted seconds during which I would feel his gaze burning the back of my neck.

  Wow, what fun this’ll be.

  Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Every signal I sent his way communicated my aversion to him, which even someone as dense as Elyas must have noticed. My signals just didn’t seem to interest him at all.

  One thousand, one hundred twelve. One thousand, one hundred eleven. One thousand, one hundred ten. One thousand, one hundred nine . . .

  Although Elyas managed to keep his mouth shut, his presence was so distracting that I didn’t get anything out of the lecture at all. I kept fidgeting my right leg and clenching my teeth until the end of class.

  The professor had hardly concluded his lecture when I quickly packed all my things into my messenger bag, slung it over my shoulder, stood, and forced my way down the row. I could tell Elyas was doing the same behind me. We met in the center aisle, and he stayed close on my heels, amused, as we walked up the steps to the door. I rolled my eyes.

  I hadn’t been quick enough to beat the crush of students, so we proceeded slowly. Once everyone made it through the big doors into the hallway, the throng gradually dispersed.