by R. J. Lewis
“Maybe I am desperate.”
Gasping, I jumped and backed away, tripping on the top stair of my porch. I put my hand to my chest and stared at the dark figure sitting on the wicker chair beside the front door. I should have felt relieved when I recognized him as Stranger. But I didn’t. My heart rate continued to rise, and fear gripped me. I looked to the street and thought of running.
“It’s okay,” he quickly reassured me. “I would never harm you. I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, hating how much my voice was trembling.
“I went back to see you, but you were already gone. At first I thought you’d left with a man, but I spoke to your friend, and she said you’d taken off alone. I wanted to make sure you’d come home safe.”
“You spoke to Emily?”
Though it was too dark to see his face, I could see his head nodding.
I dropped my hand from my chest and crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?” I asked him again.
“Do I really have to say it?” His voice was soft now, and it made my nerves die down a little.
“Yes,” I told him, sternly. “You do.”
He let out a light chuckle, and his body leaned forward so that his elbows were propped on each knee. His face was geared in my direction, and even though I couldn’t see his features, I could feel the heat of his gaze on me. “Like I said, maybe I am desperate.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he beat me to it. “Are you going to let me in? Or are we going to sit out here in the cold instead?”
“Maybe you’re going to sit out here in the cold, alone,” I bit back, still feeling the anger from having the scare of my life.
“After what you said to me earlier, I believe you.”
It was quiet for a few moments. He was obviously waiting on me to decide, and I didn’t know what to do. My mind was too busy warring with itself, and it was telling me to keep him outside. I didn’t know his intentions. I didn’t know what he might do if I let him in. I was momentarily frightened of him, and I didn’t want to be another statistic with a headline on the internet that read, “Stupid girl lets dangerous man inside home because he’s hot! Tune in at 6pm for details of her grizzly murder!”
“Get off my porch for a minute,” I told him.
To my surprise, he immediately stood up. In the darkness his frame appeared large and ominous. I tripped down the steps again, keeping a safe distance from him as he followed. Under the moonlight now I could see his face. He looked amused, his mouth set into that wicked smirk.
“Keep going,” I told him. He backed away from the porch, until he was edging toward the driveway. “Stop.”
When he stopped, I watched him while I hurried back up the porch steps. I stuck the key into my front door and opened it. With one arm moving inside the house, I turned the porch lights on. I felt a lot better with them on. Like I was somehow cloaked in safety. It was stupid to think so, I knew that.
“Now what?” he asked, that voice taking on a bit of humour.
I frowned at him. “Is this funny to you?”
His smirk broke into a full blown grin. It made him look so beautiful and normal. I almost felt silly doing this. “It is, little lady.”
Little lady.
My heart pounded fast again, this time for another reason.
“What’s scaring you exactly?”
I cocked a brow at his question. “Are you really asking me that?”
“I just don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t have any tattoos, or piercings. Save for my phone, my pockets are empty. I haven’t sworn at you, or stoned you. What is it that’s scaring you about me?”
“You could be dangerous,” I simply stated.
“Not to you,” he replied steadfastly. “Not to anyone, really, unless they inflict pain on me. I’m just like any other person.”
I believed him. Still. I wouldn’t make this easy for him.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Ben.”
A normal name. “Ben what?”
“Costigan.”
Ben Costigan. I wanted to try that on my tongue and see how it sounded. I liked Stranger’s name. “How did you know my address?”
“Because I wanted to.” Yet another answer that wasn’t an answer.
“Look,” he then said, taking a slow step forward, “I can tell you’re a very cautious woman. I’m only here to talk to you. I promise. Call your friend up. Tell her I’m here. Give her my name and description. Whatever will make you feel safer around me. Hell, you can even invite her over if you don’t want to be alone with me. I’ll wait right here until she’s come around.”
“Why do you want to just talk to me?”
“Because I want to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Because I’m… me, was the answer I didn’t say aloud. What the hell was worth knowing about me?
I pondered his words for a minute. I knew I was being extra cautious because of my attack nine months ago. I was always looking for the unexpected in situations that weren’t as complex as I’d made them out to be.
“Hey Claire,” came a voice nearby, pulling me out of my thoughts.
My neighbour, Miles, stood on the edge of his lawn, looking over at us. This was my first time seeing him in weeks, and it was a little awkward.
“How’s it going, Miles?” I asked him.
He looked over at Ben suspiciously before answering, “Yeah, good. Came home last night.”
Oh really, the sarcastic part of me wanted to say, I hadn’t noticed with all the lights, music and people going in and out of your house!
He always threw parties when he was home, and that was the one downfall to having Miles as your neighbour. You barely slept a wink on the weekends.
“Welcome back,” I said to him disinterestedly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Just wondering if you’re alright,” he replied, looking from me to Ben.
Ah, he was checking up on me. Despite what a nuisance he could be from time to time, it put me at ease he cared enough to check on my wellbeing.
Ben’s face fell after Miles said those words. “She’s fine,” he told him through gritted teeth.
“I’m asking her,” Miles retorted, glaring at him. “And if you’re bothering her –”
“No, I really am fine, Miles,” I interrupted him with a reassuring smile. “This is my friend, Ben.”
But Miles shook his head, unable to resist looking sceptical. “Yeah, well, you let me know if you need anything, alright?”
I nodded. “Alright.”
“You’re welcome to join the party too, if you’d like. I can wait for you –”
“She won’t be joining your party,” Ben said harshly, turning his body completely to him. “She’ll be talking to me. So how about you turn around and go back to getting sloshed instead of interrupting us again?”
Miles looked stunned, and his breathing picked up as his anger set in. But the way Ben was staring at him would have been lethal if looks truly did kill. It didn’t help Ben was much bigger than him too. He looked between the two of us and then turned around, stumbling back in the direction of his house.
“I’m sorry for being hard on him,” Ben said in a voice that was far from apologetic. “I don’t like to be interrupted, especially by drunks.”
I stifled a laugh. Miles might have stuck around for eons if Ben hadn’t said what he did. I ran a hand through my hair and kicked the door open all the way.
“You can come in,” I told Ben. I didn’t want to attract any more attention, or – God forbid – interruptions.
I turned away from him and walked into the house. I heard him enter and shut the door. When I felt his presence behind me, the nerves rebounded. I turned to look at him and my face landed straight into his chest. The scent of him was all around me. Startled, I took a step back. His grey eyes met mine a split second later, and those
lips went up again as he let me put distance between us.
“Was it your friend I snapped at?” he then asked.
I paused and then shook my head. “Neighbour.”
“A very concerned one, it seemed.”
I shrugged. “Just a neighbour,” I stressed. The last thing I wanted was for him to be getting ideas – wrong ones.
He gave me a nod. “Alright.”
Cue another brutal silence.
One that consisted solely of us staring at each other.
When his focus lingered on my mouth, for a second every part of me believed he was going to cut the distance and kiss me. He looked like he was about to. Like there was nothing holding him back. I envisioned it. I remembered how soft his lips were, and how much I wanted to slip my tongue in between the seam of his mouth and taste him.
I waited with bated breath, but it didn’t come. He remained standing in his place, waiting on me. I was a little disheartened, and then annoyed I wouldn’t have objected if he did.
I was quickly becoming those too stupid to live girls.
“You can have a seat,” I finally managed out, breaking whatever it was between us.
I motioned to the entrance lounge. The house was modestly sized and open concept. The lounge backed onto a large granite countered kitchen that Mom had remodelled a couple years ago. The house itself was old, but it was well maintained. It was lightly decorated, and the warm colours throughout made the atmosphere very homey.
Still. It was unnerving seeing him inside. He seemed to invade everything it stood for. Like he was somehow too good for it and belonged in some penthouse somewhere.
I knew I was judging him based on the high-end clothes he was wearing, and because I knew deep down he was a man that enjoyed the finer things in life. His attitude and demeanour screamed it.
He walked past me, getting close enough to brush his side lightly against my bare arm. It may have seemed like such an insignificant move, but it made my body buzz with warmth. He sat down on the three seater beige couch, his body positioned in my direction. He relaxed back into the cushions, like he’d been here ten million times before. Meanwhile, I just stood there, in the centre of the lounge, not understanding any bit of this.
“What do you want from me?” I asked him quietly, staring down at the hardwood floor.
“You left your wallet in my pocket,” he replied. “Clearly you want something from me.”
I shook my head slowly. “That was a year ago.”
“Has that changed then? You don’t want what you did before?”
I pursed my lips and frowned. “I don’t even know what I wanted before.”
“You wanted me to find you.”
I didn’t respond to that. He was right.
“You were attracted to me on that train,” he went on smoothly. There was no hesitation in this man. “You liked the way I made you feel.”
I continued to stare down at the fascinating hardwood floor, idly counting the light scratches in the wood. I could feel the awkwardness in me grow.
“Is that why you kissed me?”
I froze and my cheeks flushed at the memory. God, I was so bold back then. Who was that girl? She’d have kicked ass in this moment and danced circles around him in that seductive way she’d mastered so well.
“No,” I whispered. “That’s not why I kissed you.”
“Will you tell me the reason?”
“No.”
I looked up when he went silent. He was looking at me like I was a code he was trying to crack. Oh, baby, crack away.
“Come sit down next to me,” he then told me, motioning to the seat beside him.
Holy hell. This was my house and he was trying to make me feel comfortable! I was reluctant to at first, finding comfort in standing a safe distance away from him. But my body obeyed him before my mind could come to grips with his words. I sat down, grateful that the good side of my face was in his direct line of view. I pulled my dress down and brought my legs together, feeling very conscious of the way I looked.
“So what now?” I found myself asking, staring into my lap.
“Now you can look at me,” he replied.
I turned my head slightly in his direction and my eyes jumped to his.
“Why did you decide now to reach out?” I wondered aloud.
“Several reasons,” he answered. He leaned forward, until my body was acutely aware of his, and his fingers touched my hair. I stifled a shiver as he pulled back my hair and tucked it behind my ear. Christ, it was almost intimate.
This was very odd.
“What are they?” I let out.
He broke into a lopsided smile. “First tell me why you kissed me.”
“Maybe you were just so irresistible.”
He chuckled. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“I know,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “That’s landed me in hot waters too many times to count.”
“Lying?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded heartily. “I believe that. You made a series of lies when we met. Dropping those skittles into my lap intentionally –”
“M&Ms.”
“Then you told me you were a tourist.”
I smiled. “Clearly giving you my wallet told you I wasn’t.”
“It had nothing to do with your wallet. It was what you were wearing.”
My eyes widened. “How did that give it away?”
“You looked nothing like a tourist would, in your fancy clothes and done up hair. Nothing like the backpackers strolling the city streets.”
“Why would you think I would have been a backpacker if I really was a tourist?”
“You’re young, and you were riding public transport. You had a brand name bag, no camera. You were relaxed with your good Australian friend, like you’d done the trek a million times before. You were certainly not a tourist. Tourists your age riding public transport have a look, one that you certainly didn’t possess.”
When I didn’t respond right away, he added, “And you knew what ‘Pommie’ meant. Not many people on the other side of the world do.”
My goodness, this guy. “You sound like you really know what you’re talking about.”
“I do. I’m very well-travelled. It’s a reason why I couldn’t reach out, actually. I’ve been away for months.”
I tilted my head to the side, intrigued already by this. “You told me you live here.”
“I told you that among other places I live here.”
Had he said that? I thought back at our conversation on the train. It was such a small detail, I must not have paid any attention to it. “Where have you been?”
“Everywhere,” he said, looking thoughtful now. “A good while in Tangier, though.”
“Tangier, Morocco?”
“You’ve been?”
I nearly laughed. “Oh, my God, no! I haven’t travelled at all except when I came here. Why were you in Morocco?”
“Business,” he simply said.
My eyes narrowed. “What sort of business?”
A thought crossed his mind before he answered, “I own a furniture business in Malaga. I get my stock imported from parts of Asia, but I’ve been exploring other places, checking to see if there’s any competition.”
“Sounds tiring.”
“It is. In the long term, I might move on to something else.”
“Long term?” I eyed him inquisitively now, uncaring that my face was in full view of him. “How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
I paused. Nine years older than me. Well, shit, that was a pretty big age difference.
“What is it?” he asked, amused once again. “Am I too old to be around you? Not hip enough or something?”
“No, I just guess I would have thought at thirty you’d be in something you wanted to make a career out of.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes. With some unease, he looked away from me and rested his arm on the armrest. “Sometimes who yo
u are is nothing like the person you want to be. And that’s something I realized a short while ago. I may be now in my thirties, but I’m probably just as clueless as you.”
Wryly, I raised a brow. “Who says I’m clueless?”
“You’re not? What are you doing with your life?”
Feeling a lot more relaxed by our conversation and its normalcy (sort of), I rested my back against the cushion and got comfortable. “I’m studying.”
“To become what?”
“A teacher.”
“Is that something you’re passionate about?”
I thought about it, and then I shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like an easy decision at the time I began studying. Felt right I guess.” And at the time I chose, I wasn’t scarred. Now the idea of being a teacher in front of a classroom with all that attention on me was unnerving.
With a wicked gleam in his eye, he cheekily said, “I can see you being a teacher. You’d carry yourself well. Of course you might distract the boys, but I’m sure they’d rather you than some hairy old woman with taco breath.”
My face reddened as I laughed at that, and he smiled widely, chuffed with himself as his eyes roamed my face. His gaze deepened when he remarked softly, “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
A swarm of tingles settled into the bottom of my belly. I looked away from him and back into my lap. God, you can’t handle a compliment now?
“That was one of the things I said to you on that train,” he continued. “But your beauty then was filled with arrogance.”
“And now it’s not?”
“No, not at all.”
And anybody could guess why.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I muttered.
“Oh? You like what you see?”
My heart pumped harder as I willed myself to look at him again. His piercing gaze left my body feeling like it was being squeezed tight by an invisible force, knocking me breathless. I was on fire, and I was sure my face gave away what he was doing to me.
“No response?” he whispered.
I felt his body draw nearer to me.
“Of course I do,” I replied shakily.
His fingers suddenly trailed my arm, igniting a trial of goose bumps. The skin he touched blazed for him. The silence between us was thick with hot tension. I could feel the very pit of my belly stir with desire. He was turning me on just by his bloody fingers and I was immediately aware of what was going on here. The only question I was asking myself was, “Should I go through with it?”