by Lee, Corri
"I thought you said we had a route," I yelled after shouting an apology to the fifth person finding themselves on my collision course. Blaze spun around and ground to a halt in front of me, cheeks flushed and pupils wide with adrenaline.
"We do, I just wanted to see how many times I could take you around in a circle before you noticed."
Stepping back to look at the surroundings, I realised that I was looking at Nelson's Column for the third time. "Oh! Ass."
Grinning, he grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of him, pushing me forward at a much slower and safer pace than before. His fingers innocuously thread between mine like it was the most normal thing he could have done, and somehow that encouraged me to move my legs. I might have thought it was because I wanted to escape if I couldn't feel the goofy smile plastered to my face.
Everything in my life at that moment felt askew, turned upside down on it's head and showing no signs of righting itself. There was no way that we would actually avoid the media when Blaze, of all people was circling the capital on rollerskates with some ragtag brunette beside him, but that was okay. The time for bitter retrospect and mourning my mistakes would be later. It was impossible to think logically when he had such a stupefying effect on anyone who looked at him. As soon as we parted ways, I was sure I'd be instantly plunged into a deep regret for being so foolhardy, but when he looked so urbane and free, it was hard not to get a little carried away in the moment.
And then I remembered an old cliché I'd heard so often before but never really put value to; 'Be careful what you wish for'. If I really thought about it, Blaze might just fit the description of the tall, dark and handsome stranger I'd wanted to mess up my life, and maybe I'd dreamed of him so hard he just sprang into existence. Hardcore Buffy The Vampire Slayer fans might call him my 'key'— a complete fabrication of something else moulded into human form, creating false memories of his fame and popularity for everyone else but me. Admittedly, I probably wasn't subconsciously protecting me from a psycho goddess, but my being there with him seemed just as unlikely.
But why the hell was I complaining? I'd wished him, so if he was going to send me down in a blaze of embarrassment and public humiliation, it was my own damned fault.
Three
OUR ROUTE LED us to Hyde Park, where skating seemed to be far less bizarre. Girls in daisy dukes and tank tops spun around skillfully with their bandana wearing boyfriends to the music pounding from portable CD players, swirling around us like we were no real obstacle. Masses of people called Blaze's name when they saw us, proving to me just how notorious the man was, and their curious frowns at our linked hands were a confirmation that this was not his usual means of association. Like I had any doubt. I shook my grip free and folded my hands securely under my arms, painfully aware that I didn't fit in wearing tattered grey slacks and a style-less work shirt.
Apparently sensing my insecurity, Blaze pointed at my shirt and shook his head authoritatively. "Off."
"Excuse me?"
"Okay, not off as such. Undo the bottom buttons and tie it up like a bolero." Sparing a quick glance down, I rolled a foot away from him and turned my back on him. Revealing my midriff in public was possibly a bigger anxiety trigger than if he'd asked me to strip naked. At least all eyes would have been fixed on my chest that way. The way my body looked was a secret shame. "Come on, Emmeline. You'll burn up like that. I know that's your specialist area, but—"
I spun back around to him, hands on my hips. Would he ever let that go? "It's Emmy, not Emmeline, and I'm not doing shit to this outfit. Let me sweat or take me home."
"Interesting set of options," he murmured, trying not to laugh at the fact that I'd been unwittingly suggestive and had the blush to show that I knew it, "but seriously, whatever your beef is with your body, nobody cares what you look like here. Check it." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at a seriously overweight man wearing less clothes than decent. "You could be seriously disfigured and nobody would care with this guy hogging the vista." I froze, numbed by his unintentional perceptiveness.
He arched a brow at my expressionless face and took advantage of my stillness. "Okay, I'll just sort you out myself."
Before I had any time to object, he had the bottoms of my shirt tied off low enough to not reveal flesh and my sleeves rolled up. Surprised by his swiftness and embarrassed by the fight I'd put up over nothing, I stared at him, struggling to muster the smile he'd so easily caused before. If he sensed my inner turmoil about being so dangerously close to being exposed, he didn't give it away when he turned me back around and began to pluck the bobby pins from the French knot styled into my hair.
"So how long is this mane of yours?"
"Very. That's why it was tied up." He must have ignored the blatant vehemence in my voice too because he kept on pulling at the pins until there was nothing to stop it tumbling free. His fingers sifted through the strands of raven from root to the tips that ended at my waist.
"Jesus." Something in his tone made my stomach flip. It was carnal and raw— something that had no place being directed at me. I'd been object of enough men and women's affections to hear lust in a voice, but Christ, this was so primitive that I half expected his teeth to sink into me. "Why the hell don't you wear it down all the time?"
"It gets in the way," I whispered, scared to turn around and see if his face matched his silky growl, "you'd find out how much if you backed up enough for me to stop feeling like your prey." Immediately, he stepped back out of my personal space, but I could still feel his intensity permeating off him in waves. I was sure my brain was starting to bleed from how severely sexual he was, and I decided in that minute that, as popular and gorgeous as he was, I wouldn't grant him the privilege of being treated any differently from any other man who was drawn to me. If one night in my bed was what he was looking for, he'd get it without this charade.
"There are easier ways to score a lay than with disingenuous flattery and outlandish dates, you know." My fists clenched at my sides as he closed in on me, grabbing me by the hips to pull me right up against him. His hands so close to my bare skin made me sway— I wanted them lower, tensing and flexing, nails biting into my skin as I rode him... My head tipped back to catch a first time glimpse of the twining flecks of copper coursing through his irises. "Wow." Ugh, dammit...
"Cute," he laughed, "but I've got you pegged, Emmeline. You'd be surprised how much you give away without even knowing it, and trust me, I'm no enabler. If you think I brought you here as part of some juvenile mating ritual, you're wrong."
"So why did you bring me here?"
He frowned, slowly releasing me. "I don't know. I didn't even think about it. But I'm not an idiot— I know that if I took you home and screwed you now, I'd never see you again."
"So?"
Scowling, he ducked down and planted a quick kiss right on my lips. I jerked back in surprise, baffled by the passionless advance. "No. I'm not nearly done terrorising you."
HIS rejection didn't hurt as much as it should have, unlike my palms and knees after repeated impact with the concrete. An hour in the baking June evening sun proved that I wasn't half as graceful as he was and not nearly as reflexive. Every time I fell, he darted over to me to save me but ended up on the floor with me. While he laughed, I sulked, feeling like an uncoordinated no-hoper.
"We're not doing that again," I huffed, rolling my eyes at being carried around like a sleepy child. There was no denying that being that close to him was a treat for all the senses— he smelled divinely of shower gel, sweat and himself— but the blood soaking through the fabric of my slacks made me feel more idiotic than the rollerskates did. Pain didn't bother me, but it seemed to bother Blaze, who insisted on carrying me back to his silver bug car en route a pharmacy so he could clean me up when I winced uncontrollably with every step.
"Agreed," he nodded, "I should have guessed that you were too accident prone for something my seven year old nephew does quite capably."
"Don't mock me. I know pe
ople." Throwing his head back to laugh, Blaze set me down on the bonnet of his car and lifted my trouser legs to survey the damage. His laugh was almost as silken and seductive as his voice, a good distraction. "Is it bad?"
"You'll live. Though judging from the state of these kneecaps, you're no stranger to falling over."
"Occupational hazard. I'm a professional wino." He ripped the packet of an antiseptic wipe open and seemed to look up for signs of life when I didn't flinch.
"So you're kind of self-destructive?" What the hell kind of question was that to ask a woman he'd just met?
"I got in a car with a total stranger and you're only just realising this? Sure, I'm 'kind of' self-destructive like the Pope is 'kind of' Catholic."
He didn't answer until he'd finished cleaning my grazes. "What would it take to change that?" Why the hell do you care?
"Crack." As much as he tried, he just couldn't resist laughing at the dark joke, making it somehow clear that he knew I wasn't that kind of person.
"You always drink at Esme's?"
"Yup. The five of us— we're a coven. We call the corners every night and substitute the virgin's blood for red wine because we're strict vegetarians."
His brow arched with wry amusement. "Do you ever stop being 'on'?"
"No, I'm like a wind turbine. Or a solar powered calculator."
After removing the skates and replacing my shoes, he pulled me up to my feet and guided me to the passenger seat by the small of my back. In just ninety minutes, it had become like he'd been in my life forever. He was easy to be around, too easy. His little touches and secret smiles felt special and gifted to only me, and he was going to have to knock that right off. There was no space in my head for another man. Hunter, Chris, Daniel and Jonathan had my 'platonic penis' quota covered. "You never actually told me why you don't socialise with women."
Blaze looked at me like he'd known the question was coming and was glad I'd finally cracked. "Honestly? Without sounded conceited, it's impossible to find a woman out there who doesn't want me to fall in love with her and whisk her off to my ivory tower. Better to steer clear of temptation. I can't get attached."
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't. And neither can you." He turned to me, catching me in a gaze so shimmering hot it was like watching magma bubble, and it burned right through my resistances to the truth inside me. I'd never felt so much like an open book to someone. "I told you, I've got you pegged. I don't know the why's, what's and who's, but I knew last night that when you looked at me, you wanted nothing more than to screw me senseless and send me packing. Not a single white picket fence in sight in that scorching hot fucklust stare of yours."
"Fucklust?" I settled back in my seat, impressed by the new expression I was definitely going to add to my vocabulary when he was out of earshot. "So why all this rollerskating bullshit? Why not just invite yourself back to my flat and have done with it?"
"Well for a start, you set yourself on fire and left pretty quickly," he smirked and started the engine, pivoting in the car park to head back in the direction of Double Booked. "And I'm not a misogynist. I have no objections to forging friendships with women who don't pose some sort of threat of wanting 'more'. But you know, with this face,"—he pointed—"it's difficult to avoid running into complications. Better to steer clear completely and avoid the stress."
Nodding to the sentiment, I rested my head back and narrowed my eyes at him. "That doesn't explain the rollerskate torture. Are you seeking petty vengeance on the inherently clingy womankind through me?"
"Shit no. I like rollerskating, it's fun. I like to have fun with friends and the people I hope will become friends. I get the impression that you're at your best before you've swapped bodily fluids. I'm in no hurry to become disposable to the first woman I've felt comfortable being around in a long time."
That hurt because it was true. With a few minor exceptions, my attitude towards a lover had a tendency to cool significantly after I'd kicked them out of my bed or made a dash for their front door. It wasn't intentional, just a method of self-preservation that stopped me from getting too close to anyone who wanted to chase a commitment. Blaze couldn't have been more right when he said I couldn't get attached to someone. It simply wasn't an option.
But I didn't know if adding him to my circle of friends was either. Could I simply socialise with a man who screamed SEX, not succumb to weakness and not turn arctic like I could with only four others? I didn't trust that I could.
ESME'S JAW DROPPED when her eyes fell on my bloodied slacks and raw palms. She seemed so appalled that she didn't stop to eye-fuck Blaze, who lingered in the doorway to my flat after insisting that he had to make sure I made it inside without falling over. In fact, she glared at him icily and demanded an explanation for me looking so dishevelled, which he volunteered casually with no hesitation while he walked aimlessly around my small open plan flat, stopping occasionally to check out my displays of movie and video game memorabilia.
"Rollerskating, are you fucking kidding me?" She spat her words like venom, tugging the knot of my shirt free because she how crazy it must have driven me. "Who does that? You take a woman out for a nice meal, maybe a drink if she's not hungry, then if you must sate your libido, a cheap hotel for a quickie."
"What can I say, Esme? I'm out of practice." Blaze raised his hands like she had him at gunpoint and edged over to the dining room table to set down my bag and sketchbook. "She'll deny it, but she had a great time. Isn't that right, Emmeline?"
"No," I lied, but he saw my betraying smirk. There really was no denying that a part of me was disappointed to come home, even if he did insist on using my full name like some kind of manager or scholar. "Just promise me there'll be no extreme sports next time."
He cleared the space between us in five strides and grabbed my hands, pulling them up to his lips and staring into my eyes with faux-seriousness. "I swear to never put your life in danger again. I have something way better in mind."
WHEN he left shortly afterwards, I had no expectations of seeing him again. We hadn't traded numbers and I didn't know his surname, age or anything people usually discussed early into a 'friendship'. He knew my name and where I lived and worked, but what use was that if he'd decided I was too much of a klutz to be seen with?
Our Hyde Park disaster obviously got snapped, but thankfully I wasn't named. That didn't stop me being recognised by the 'coven' who ribbed me mercilessly for the petulant scowl permanently etched across my features. Esme still didn't believe the whole affair hadn't been a disaster, and those pictures and Blaze's prolonged absence didn't really encourage her to change that opinion.
But not even my nearest and dearest had the attention span to pick something to death. We went back to our usual routine of working by day, drinking by night, and spending our free days at Daniel and Jonathan's swanky loft watching horror movies and munching popcorn. Esme went back to her own flat above the bar after four days and threw herself into a new cabaret project, auditioning burlesque dancers and big bands. By the time a week had passed, my knees and elbow had healed enough for me to not think about Blaze when I looked at them.
And if I wasn't thinking about Blaze, I was thinking about Hunter. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"You sound like shit, Emmeline." I rubbed my chest over my heart that broke every time he called me. The nine hour time difference between us was brutal, and I knew he'd taken the evening shift so his bitch of a fiancée couldn't listen in on us. Unlike me, Hunter wasn't too proud to abuse the opportunities of family connections and had taken a job in Tokyo at his father's hardware company without a second thought so his 'woman' could be near her family. How the hell he'd expected me to take it well, I had no idea. That's probably why I didn't find out until he was already there.
"It was payday yesterday. You know what it's like."
"Yeah, you go out and get drunk with those reprobates."
"They're good friends, unlike some." I heard him win
ce. We knew how to hurt each other too well. The occasional phone call and email wasn't really enough for him to earn the privilege of still being what I considered my best friend, but I gave it to him anyway because I loved him enough to see past the distance. Why couldn't he extend the same gesture to me? I knew I was only a minor blip on his radar.
"I deserve that," he confessed, "work has been insane. Siobhan is being insane. I'm sorry, I really can't deal with any more crazy." Story of my life. He never had time for my crazy. Nine years of my life spent agonising over him and not once had he made the time I needed. Never said the words I needed to hear. There was only so much Daniel could offer in lieu Hunter and whatever it was he had inside him that drove me to the limits of my sanity.
"Yeah yeah, I get it. But you can't expect me to sit around on my tod staring at my phone waiting for you to spare me a minute. Reprobates or not— and I'm not denying that we are— they still accept me, even knowing what they know."
"You're not a reprobate, you're just confused."
"Fuck you, Hunter. I'm not confused about anything and that's what makes it so god damn hard to deal with." I took a breath, knowing that if this discussion continued, I'd end up doing something reckless. He kept me sick— I knew it and I'd never get past it. There was nothing in the world that could take away the power of something self-inflicted. Couldn't live with him, couldn't live without him. I'd be messed up over him for the rest of my life. "Maybe one day we'll talk about why I collapsed in that gym."