by Maria Dee
I nodded and he quickly started over.
“Hello. I’m Nicholas.” Though he strained to keep a straight face, his lips formed into a hint of a smile. This time, he did not extend his hand and I felt relieved as I was still shaken up from the first time.
“Xenia,” I whispered.
“Fun party, huh?” he searched for my wandering gaze as I looked for my friends amongst the crowd.
I nodded in agreement, figuring that it was my turn to carry the conversation, awkward as it felt.
“How do you know Landon?” I asked.
Nicholas appeared amused by my fidgety body language; my hand moved from my hip to my side and back.
“I’m...an old friend,” he replied. “How do you know Landon?”
“We met in the gym at York U, where I’m attending school this year,” I replied more confidently.
“Meet a lot of guys in the gym, do you?” Nicholas teased as the bartender placed a glass of red wine before him.
“Um...not really,” I said, blushing. “What about you?”
Nicholas took a quick survey of his surroundings before his eyes focused entirely on me.
“I’m not into guys,” he mocked.
I rolled my eyes. “Where do you meet girls then?”
He leaned in toward me. “Birthday parties,” he whispered.
My face lite up red as the instant blood rush shocked my system. I fought the urge to smile, nervously looking away, searching through the crowd. “I should go find my friends.”
“Too forward? I come off a little strong sometime.” His devilishly alluring grin was becoming a weakness of mine.
“You? Forward? No,” I replied, playfully.
Nicholas laughed a warm laugh—a familiar sound that made my heart beat erratically. There was something about him, but I wasn’t sure just yet what that was.
I took another sip of wine and enjoyed the sweet taste of port sinking into my every last taste bud. I redirected my focus back to Nicholas who was simply staring at me now waiting for a response after his bout of laughter. Without a doubt, his charming demeanor and physical size commanded attention.
He played a little with the collar of his shirt, attempting to loosen it, it seemed. A sign of unease—to my surprise—I did not want to be the only one.
“Xenia, would you like to head back down to the party?” he motioned toward the stairs.
“Good idea. My friends must be looking for me,” I smiled and looked down at my fabulous, yet uncomfortable stilettos with regret.
We made our way down the stairwell and joined the party once again. The ambiance had changed accordingly as the night progressed. The lights dimmed and the music became louder as more and more people took to the dance floor.
“Xenia, care to dance?” he asked. The corner of his lip curved up into a half smile.
“Sure, I’d...uh-huh,” I replied, breathing deeply as my knees slightly buckled from beneath me.
Nicholas seemed amused by my startled response. He removed his blazer and placed it over a rail by a booth.
He slowly placed his right hand on my hip as though he were afraid that I would jump out of my own skin—I just about did. I could feel my skin boil where his hand rested. He held his left hand open, waiting patiently. I placed my hand slowly into his embrace, while my other hand rested atop his shoulder. My arms instantaneously became saturated with goose bumps, referring chills down my spine and sending flickers of light in my line of vision.
“Sorry,” I gasped, awkwardly retracting my stunned hand and resting both hands on his shoulders instead. “This feels more comfortable.”
I felt an unprecedented amount of tension in his presence. I looked closely in Nicholas’ eyes for the first time. His eyes appeared less defined as the black spokes that converged in the center were now a watery mix within each iris, forming a gray black swirl—I was mesmerized by them.
“I feel the same way, Xenia,” he whispered.
Was I hallucinating? 2-0 for the tropical umbrella drink.
“I know we only just met, but you also make me feel...different,” he elucidated.
“You mean, like...nervous?” I was extremely invested in where the conversation was going.
“Hmm...yes,” he whispered. “Being in your presence alone makes me feel like I’m someone else entirely.”
“Wait a minute,” I said slowly. “I make you nervous?”
Nicholas was amused by my disbelief. He leaned in and I felt his lips softly brush my earlobe as he whispered into my right ear. “You make me nervous, Xenia, and,” he paused, flinching. “You’re hurting me.”
His hands edged toward his shoulders and I realized that my nails were digging into him. When I became nervous, I latched on to inanimate objects or—worse—people.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m feeling a little edgy tonight myself.”
Nicholas smiled in relief as my long nails declawed through his shirt.
The music stopped and we moved apart, analyzing each other. The tension between us was uncanny.
The live music was a fusion of rock, blues and pop. It created uproar amongst the pleased crowd. I saw Marla and Calliope dancing with Landon and a blond guy with an athletic build—likely a jock friend of Landon’s. They waved while Landon danced in his drunken oblivion. I returned the wave, happy to have retraced my friends’ whereabouts. Nicholas stood a few steps away, resting one hand behind his back. With his other hand, he reached for my hand expectantly. Like a gentleman he bowed before twirling me on the dance floor. The atmosphere in the club changed into something euphoric; the air was sweeter, accompanied by the deeper vibrations of the bass searing through my body as if it was a second heartbeat. I danced around Nicholas in a tantalizing way while my fingers grazed his body. With my back facing him, my hands lightly brushed his shoulders, his arms, and then thighs as I slithered to the ground while my hips swayed side to side, no more than a mere sensation of a feather against our bodies. I felt the music pulling me to the depths of the earth—almost calling for me. Just like a Maenad happily twirling and drinking, while following the essence of the great Dionysus with a glass of wine in one hand, and a follower in the other. We danced until the early morning almost as a tribute to the ancient worlds.
In an instant, I broke free of the trance long enough to see through my hazy vision and visualize my surroundings. Nicholas was by the bar while I abruptly left to search for Marla and Calliope on the dance floor. Strangely, I was overcome by an urge to keep dancing as every sensation felt intensified—it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was otherworldly.
My throat tingled as the wine made its way down, circulating a cold sensation throughout my body. My awareness was drawn to the golden fabric draped along the walls and to a sensual energy emanating from not only the music, but from the very air. Women danced in sheer fabrics; they climbed on top of six black wooden boxed stages throughout the dance floor. Every bronzed, rippled abdominal muscle contracted and then straightened as they moved, twisted, and twirled in a blissful state. Vines miraculously branched through the cracks in the red brick wall, displaying the living forces of nature around us. The branches seemed to expand as the vibe of the room magnified. As I looked around, it appeared as though I was the only one who had noticed the changes. I looked back to see Nicholas leaning by the bar in a blasé manner, merely observing those around him.
My attention was diverted briefly to a man surrounded by women in a reserved booth. I couldn’t take my eyes off his body for reasons other than vanity. His upper torso was covered in a series of interesting tattoos partly covered by his black tank top. I unintentionally gazed in his direction, initiating unwanted attention. He cocked his head and glared at me. I instantly looked away. His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were the lightest green I had ever seen.
While the pounding music vibrated throughout my body, I discretely looked over my shoulder to examine the tattooed guy every now and then, unsure of what drew me
to his direction—aside from the body art, women, and bottle service.
He caught my gaze and waved his hand as if to summon me. As my mind deliberated, my legs took off, seemingly unaffected by rational thought. As I neared, I hesitated after my mind re-established control over my idle legs, sending messages for immediate flight.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked. He glared at the women around him and one by one they left his side.
“Styx Nightclub, right?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” he replied. He leaned in closer with his elbows perched over on his knees.
“Have you traveled here before?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. I looked for Nicholas, but I had lost him in the crowd.
“I beg to differ,” he said, reaching toward me. Just as he was about to touch my face, Nicholas reappeared.
“Excuse us,” he said to the tattooed guy. “Xenia, come with me.” Nicholas shot a revolting gaze over his shoulder, while he led me over to a vacant booth. He appeared conflicted, straining a smile.
“Xenia, can you wait here for a moment?”
“Was that a friend of yours?” I asked, dazed.
“He is not,” he scowled. His expression softened. “Just enjoy yourself tonight. Your friends will be here with you shortly,” he whispered.
When Calliope and Marla eventually found me, they tugged at my arms to join them in a dance. Nicholas, however, did not dance. He merely observed by the bar. I looked around and, in that instant, things reverted back. Nicholas’ eyes, smeared with gray and black, slowly returned to a distinct form. His flawless impenetrable demeanor returned as the fire in his eyes ceased to exist.
My heart skipped a beat and lights flickered before my eyes. I dizzily watched the vines retract from the brick walls. The club no longer appeared as glamorous or as mystical. I felt somewhat leveled again, although unsure of what I had experienced.
“You have control. Give it time,” Nicholas whispered as he passed by.
I hadn’t the faintest idea as to what he was referring to besides being drunk and possibly having blacked out temporarily. For the remainder of the night, I opted for water after witnessing such strangeness. It was definitely an eerie night.
Around two o’clock, I started to feel restless. Marla and Calliope had found themselves a pair of provocative dance partners and planned to stay a while longer—by no means was I going to pry them apart.
“Do you need a ride home?” Nicholas asked.
“Weren’t you drinking?”
“Cranberry juice,” he held his glass to my face for inspection.
I sniffed the nearly empty glass just to make sure. After all, he was a stranger.
“You can never get enough of good old Vitamin C,” I said, teasingly.
I looked over toward the girls, signaling good-bye. They awkwardly abandoned the guys, leaving them standing in disarray.
“Call me once you guys get home,” I reminded.
“Will do,” Calliope sung, smiling ear to ear. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winked, devilishly.
“Pfft, what wouldn’t you do?” Marla squeaked, drunkenly.
Calliope shot us a sideways glance, unimpressed.
“Uh-oh,” Marla paused, covering her mouth. Calliope and I took a step back. She continued, “False alarm—I’m good.”
“Keep an eye on this one,” I cautioned Calliope. We laughed in unison before parting ways.
I spotted Landon by Nicholas having shots with a swarm of girls and decided it would be rude of me to leave without saying good-bye.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said, patting his arm.
“I’m no longer a teenager! Let’s drink to that!” he shouted, handing Nicholas and I a shot of tequila.
Nicholas smiled, raising his shot to the birthday boy, then to me. We toasted to Landon no longer being a teenager before leaving the venue.
Nicholas quickly handed his shot to a girl standing by Landon, explaining, “Designated driver.”
The short girl gladly took the shot in his place, giddily smiling at Nicholas for having acknowledged her.
Our walk to the parking lot was quite the trek; luckily it was a beautiful night, and the alcohol numbed my throbbing foot pain.
He unlocked the car with his remote as we neared a red Porsche.
“Wow. Nice wheels,” I said, impressed.
“Thanks. Cars are a guilty pleasure of mine.”
Nicholas opened the passenger door for me. He was gorgeous, witty, and chivalrous—jackpot! Aside from our initial strange conversation, I liked him, a lot.
“Did you have a fun time tonight?” he asked.
“It was an interesting night, to say the least. Did you have a good time?” I asked, noticing his change of mood after the tattooed man run-in.
“Of course,” he whispered as the edge of his lip curved up into a half smile, the kind that made my insides twist in angst. “After all, I met you.”
I smiled awkwardly; something about him was deceitfully blinding. His words and body language somehow lacked synchronicity.
I intervened, cautiously asking, “Are you okay?”
“That guy you were talking to,” he said, clearly bothered by my encounter with him. “Have you met him before?”
“No, but it seemed like he knew me or recognized me,” I responded.
“What did he say to you?” Nicholas asked. His face looked hard and pale in the light.
“He asked if I knew where I was, but I think he might have knocked back a few too many,” I said, motioning with my hand. “Why do you ask?”
“He looked like trouble,” he replied. “I’d stay away from him.”
“How do you know him?” I asked.
“I’ve heard of him, I don’t know him,” he said, quickly changing the topic. “I think it might rain.” His brow softened and his lips formed an imitation of a smile.
“Well, aren’t we evasive?” I said. “Why won’t you tell me more about him?”
“Xenia,” he said, unwilling to elaborate. Nicholas was withholding something from me.
“Hmm. Rain, you say?” I played along. I looked through the darkness around us and watched the effervescent wind having its way with nature.
The drive home was smooth at three in the morning. Nicholas drove slower than expected on the sparsely occupied highway, prolonging our time together.
“So, what do you do?” I was anxious to learn more about him.
“I’m currently at York U completing a masters in psych. I was at Ryerson for my undergrad. I’m a T.A for the meantime—it helps pay the bills.” He looked older than a freshman, but young enough to pass for a student. I guessed he was around twenty-four.
“You’re nineteen, right?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes. I am of the legal age,” I teased.
Nicholas laughed, but the sound of relief was evident in his tone. “I’m twenty-five,” he whispered, examining my reaction.
I was close. “That’s a good age,” I responded. I liked older guys so that was a bonus. “Oh! You have to exit here at Rosewood Drive. I just assumed you knew where to go, isn’t that funny?”
“No problem.” He pulled into the far right lane with ease just in the nick of time. Had there been traffic, I’d have caused an accident.
I caught myself staring at him more than a few times. Although he was focused on the road ahead, he grinned having taken notice.
“You can make a right here and then it’s the next street after the stop sign,” I said.
He pulled up in front of my house and parked in the driveway, leaving the keys in the ignition.
“Thanks for driving me home, Nicholas.” I smiled, awkwardly fidgeting with the jammed seatbelt.
“Anytime,” he whispered. “It does that sometime. Here. Let me.” He leaned in closer, undoing the stubborn buckle. “There you go.”
During the whole five seconds whereby a mere inch of air separated us, I couldn’t breathe. Ignited in
an instant, my heart beat hurdled—what felt like—thirty notches over its usual sixty beats per minute. It troubled me that a person could have such an effect on my body.
“Thanks again.” I attempted to leave, but my legs had a mind of their own. “Stupid legs,” I mumbled quietly.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Goodnight,” I yelped, uneasily.
“You are unlike anyone that I’ve ever met,” he said, faintly. “Can I see you again sometime?”
Anytime.
“I’d like that,” I replied, aloof.
His piercing gray eyes lit the dark interior of the car, and although I felt uneasy with Nicholas around me, I couldn’t refuse seeing him again. His presence was captivating, among other things.
I reached for his phone in the cup holder and stored my Cyclopod contact for him. He smiled cordially.
“Rest well, Xenia,” he whispered. He lingered for a moment before softly brushing the side of my face with his hand. He leveled me with his eyes again and gently kissed my cheek.
“Bye,” I replied, carefully getting out of the car. Tropical umbrella drink was going down.
I could feel his gaze all the way to my door.
Once inside, I locked the door behind me and swiftly made my way to my room. My mind was racing with thoughts—some of which were foreign to me. I pressed my eyelids together tightly and shook my head side to side. In my room, I quickly disrobed and showered.
After a steaming hot shower, I slipped into a pair of sweats and a cotton T-shirt. I heard my phone beep; a text from Marla indicated that she and Calliope were home safely. I texted goodnight before I fell into a deep slumber, wet hair and all.
Xenia (Offline):
I was in what felt like a comfortable bed. My hands rested on top of the crisp sheets while moving along with the rhythm of my abdomen—up and down slowly as I inhaled and exhaled. My mind strained to move any part of my body. I stopped as the air filled with familiar perfume and the sound of humming that stimulated my senses, reminded me that I was not alone. The familiar sounds of metal against metal became easy to tune out—it was the unfamiliar sounds that instilled fear, unbearable at times. I screamed inside me until it was all that I heard.