Later that morning I stood on the curbside hugging my best friend. “Thanks for the breakfast, and the therapy.” I squeezed her a little harder before letting her go. “No worries. I’ll be back again soon, got to keep you sane!” She sat in the driver’s seat and backed off the driveway carefully. Before pulling away she wound down the window and leaned out. “Have fun at the ball, tell me all about it after.” I nodded and waved as she pulled off. Suddenly she braked and reversed back to where I was standing. “And if you don’t go home with Sam then at least bring Charlie back for a bit of fun.” She winked at me and sped off down the road. I waved until she was out of sight.
As I walked back up to my flat Tom was just leaving, headphones in his ears and a gym bag slung over one shoulder. He pulled the earbuds out when he saw me. “Interesting girl that friend of yours,” he smirked. I fished my phone out of my pocket and texted him her number. His phone buzzed and he withdrew it from his pocket confused. “What’s this?” He waved the phone at me perplexed. “That’s Abby’s number, she asked me to pass it on to you.” I grinned at his taken aback expression. “What? My friend not good enough for you?” I feigned feeling hurt, clutching my chest and scowling at him, he laughed. “Nah it’s just, we seem like very different people. I’m an introvert and she’s more…” He hesitated in coming up with the correct adjective. “Aggressive?” I offered once again. He laughed and nodded sheepishly. “She’s my best mate, she’s lovely I promise. Drop her a text sometime.” He saluted me with his phone and left the house. If only it were that easy for me, I thought as I climbed back up to my flat, alone once again.
* * *
I spent the next few days catching up with Charlie, painfully aware that, although I was supposed to be going to the ball with him, we hadn’t spoken very much during the previous few weeks. I knew that he still wanted more than I was willing to give but I was happy to have my friend back. We met for lunch before each class, sat together in lectures, and on Tuesday night he invited me to see his friend’s band playing at Fibbers. I had noticed a shift in his behaviour. He was no longer cheesy and flirty but more laid back like he wasn’t trying to win me at all. It only made me feel even more guilty that I did not like him back.
Tom had contacted Abby and they had exchanged text messages for a few days. After a couple of nights of conversation, it soon ended went cold when Abby discovered Tom was the kind of guy who chose dinner and a movie over bars and clubbing. “I told you that you guys were too different,” I argued when she called me to complain. “Yes, but you didn’t tell me he was boring,” she whined. I was left with the unenviable task of informing Tom that she wasn’t that interested in him. When I knocked on his door one evening and broke the news he seemed neither hurt nor surprised. In fact, he came across as rather relieved. I understood, Abby was a lot of fun to handle.
The tension between Sam and I was becoming palpable. I tried to avoid him by immersing myself in my work. I even tried spending time with the classmates I had met the previous weekend. But I always felt his eyes on me, watching almost every move, until I would look up and he’d avoid my general direction. After a few days he didn’t hide it anymore. When I would meet his heated gaze he would hold it, captivating me to the point I could barely breathe. I always looked away first, engaging Charlie in conversation, trying to forget the piercing green eyes that had once seen me at my most vulnerable. But my heart wouldn’t let me forget.
On the day of the ball I had planned to meet Charlie in the studio to work on our coursework projects. He had chosen portraiture and I was his subject. I named my piece, “Where the heart lies,” and was portraying this in a series of canvases painted with acrylics. Charlie wanted to portray me as I painted, telling me rather shyly that my face gave more away when I was deep into my own work. We had met a few times, me working intently on the piece I was building and him observing and sketching. It was flattering but awkward. I sympathised greatly with all the live models I had painted in the past. Painting was a personal release for me and I shied away from the observation.
An hour into our session I was shaken from my reverie when I heard Charlie speaking to another man in the room. I peered around the canvas to find Sam watching over Charlie’s shoulder as he worked his sketch. “You’ve captured her mid emotion. I see it in the eyes. I see the longing.” I had frozen mid brushstroke, like a deer in the headlights. Sam stared at me with an unnamed emotion then offered Charlie a broad smile. “That’s some great work, Charlie. Make sure you don’t overwork the charcoal, it’s starting to look a bit muddy around the nose.” Charlie smirked at me, “Don’t worry, Ana, I may have messed up your nose but your eyes are stunning.” Sam looked over my profile once again, I avoided his gaze. “Indeed, they are.”
I focused on my canvas intently, blocking out the intrusive gazes from across the room. “What are you working on?” Sam wandered behind me and looked over the canvases I had already painted, laid out on display across the workbench behind me. The view from Nonna’s balcony, my easel set up near the window of my living room, Nonna’s aged hands moulding zeppole, a boat floating on glittering turquoise waters. He paused at the last one, if he studied close enough he would see the silhouette of two lovers in the shadow of the cabin. I turned back to my canvas, suddenly wishing that I wasn’t painting what was currently in front of me. But I felt his stare once again, my shoulders stiffened knowing what he was about to see. A storm over the bay, dark clouds rolling toward the shoreline, and a small stone cabin perched on the edge of the drop, a warm light glowing from within.
“Where the heart lies?” He whispered over my shoulder. My eyes closed and I breathed deeply, desperately wanting to lean into his firm chest but also wishing I could be free of him. A small cough made my eyes snap open and I glanced over at Charlie. He watched with eyebrows raised as Sam backed away and left the room with heavy strides. I forced a smile and asked him how he was getting on. He brushed my question aside and stood with his arms crossed. “I reckon he has a thing for you,” he chuckled and imitated Sam’s sultry stare. It was actually quite accurate. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s our teacher.” I busied myself with my palette, mixing colours to hide the redness spreading up my neck. “Some girls like that though. You know, the whole Lolita thing.”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed at him, “I’m hardly a Lolita! I don’t go around provocatively seducing older men! And I’m getting on for twenty-four, not twelve!” He laughed at my displeasure and began packing away his things. “Ah I forgot, you’re practically ancient compared to me.” I threatened him with a balled-up fist and he held his hands up in surrender. “Right, I’m off. I will see you tonight. Pick you up at seven?” I nodded and began washing my brushes in the sink. “Oh and be careful, I’ve seen him watching you. I can’t blame him, but it’s getting kind of creepy!” And with that he winked at me, swung his bag over his shoulder, and left the studio. I packed my brushes into their canvas sleeve and walked home, eager to leave the butterflies in my stomach behind me.
Later that evening I showered, shaved every inch of my body, primped, and preened until my skin was flawless. I wore my hair in a messy up-do with the odd tendril falling down my neck. For the first time in a long time I wore heavier makeup including a smokey eye that made the overall look more appropriate for an evening event. I slipped the emerald dress over my head, my feet into black, strappy stilettos, and stood inspecting myself in the mirror. I felt a little self-conscious with my entire back bare to the world and no bra, but it was also oddly freeing. My phone buzzed on the bedside table where I had left it. Charlie was waiting for me outside.
I grabbed my clutch bag and skipped to the front door to meet him. He was standing next to the doorway, hands behind his back, and a sheepish grin on his face. He had swapped his usual uniform of jeans, converse, and a slogan tee for a rather nice navy blue tuxedo. “Wow! Ana, you look amazing!” I blushed and awkwardly twirled to reveal the whole outfit. “You don’t look so bad yourself!” I straightened
his bow tie and stepped out of the house closing the door behind me. “Are you not getting a coat?” I shook my head and he whistled, twirling me on the spot and admiring my naked back. “I’m only going from house to car, from car to ball. If I get cold I’ll steal your jacket.” He grinned and offered me his arm to walk me to the waiting car.
* * *
We parked outside the hall and Charlie opened my door, offering his arm so that I didn’t fall on the cobbled path. We entered the function room, it was full of chatter and music. Long streamers hung from every inch of the ceiling, large confetti balloon arrangements were dotted here and there and circular tables were spaced around the outside of the room. There was a dance floor in the centre but not many people were using it. Everyone was in their finery, drinking and standing in small groups socialising with classmates and even some of the lecturers. I scanned the hall for any sight of Sam but could not find him.
I gripped Charlie’s arm a little tighter and he led me into the crowds toward a group of our peers. “Would you like a drink?” Charlie brought his head close to mine so that I would hear him over the music. I nodded eagerly and he left in the direction of the bar. Once alone I stood awkwardly with a group of people I hardly knew having a discussion about politics, nodding where appropriate but not particularly listening. The feeling of being watched made me turn and scan the hall once again. I found him then, to the right of the DJ booth, hands in his pockets and staring intently in my direction. He wore a three-piece, black velvet tuxedo with satin lapels and had foregone his contacts in favour of black-framed glasses. My stomach filled with butterflies once again.
I offered him a nod and a small smile and indicated that I liked his tuxedo with a thumbs up that seemed far too casual considering the feelings that raged inside me. With a sad smile of his own, he mouthed the word, “Bellisima,” his hand placed sincerely over his heart. My skin began to burn and my chest tightened, I looked away quickly. Before I could respond Charlie was back by my side offering me a glass of wine. I took a generous sip and glanced back toward the DJ booth, Sam was nowhere to be seen. “Are you ok?” Charlie asked, placing a hand at my lower back but backing off when his fingers brushed my naked skin. I forced a smile and took another sip of wine. “Just a little warm in here. Shall we walk?” I took his arm once again as we wandered from group to group. Charlie was a social butterfly, he knew everybody and chatted animatedly to the friends that I didn’t really know.
I felt Sam’s eyes on me once again and stepped away from Charlie’s hand, placed precariously low on my waist. When I could no longer take the scrutiny I took his hand and spoke into his ear. “Let’s have a dance.” A slow song had begun playing and I tugged him toward the dance floor. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he warned as I wrapped one arm around his neck and brought our bodies close together. I peered over his shoulder as we swayed from side to side. Sam was standing with the rest of the crowd lining the dance floor. I tried to avoid eye contact but his gaze was too intense to miss. My eyes met his and they held me, trapped in the emotion they found there.
As the music built I forgot all about Charlie, who had gripped my waist and was holding me firmly against him. I watched the thoughts flit across Sam’s face, each emotion flaring in his eyes as he stood like a statue on the sidelines. The overwhelming longing was clear and I was sure my expression was giving me away also. His longing morphed into a passion, a look he had only given me previously during our most intimate moments. He took a step onto the dance floor and my breath caught in my chest. I stepped away from Charlie and looked at the floor desperately trying to regain my composure. Charlie took my arm and guided me through the crowd and into a quiet corner.
“Ana, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” I took a deep breath and forced a slight smile. “Um, yeh, I think I’m just a bit warm. Could you get me some ice water please? I’m going to go and stand outside for a little while.” Once he had left I pushed my way through the crowd toward the exit, Sam was peering over the heads of the dancers looking for me. As I reached the door he spotted me and began manoeuvring around students, heading in my direction. I rushed out into the hallway and toward the car park. “Ana!” I heard him call my name but kept running, through the spinning doors and out into the fresh air. “Ana, wait up!”.
“Leave me alone, Sam,” I yelled over my shoulder as I quickened my pace, weaving through the parked cars. He followed behind, matching my pace but keeping his distance. “Please, Ana, just stop.” I continued across the tarmac, not looking back at him, “No!” I heard his footsteps quicken and come closer, “Why are you running?” I span around to face him, tears pricking the back of my eyes, “I’m running from you!” He stopped in his tracks and placed his hands back into his pockets. “You don’t have to run from me,” he whispered sadly. I laughed without humour and inhaled a shuddering breath. “I can’t do this anymore. You tell me we can’t be together but you look at me as if it kills you that we are apart.”
Taking a big step toward me he grasped my wrists in his warm hands. “It does!” His eyes were pleading with me to understand. My heart thudded painfully and I struggled out of his grasp. “I can’t take anymore. I see you watching me, I see the look in your eyes. It kills me, Sam. I’m dying here.” I wrung my hands together trying to stop them shaking. “I know you love me, and I can’t even begin to explain my feelings for you, but if you can’t be with me then you have to let me go.” He was staring at the ground, one hand on his hip and the other covering his eyes. I stepped toward him and he shook his head. I took his face between my hands and lifted his chin so his eyes met mine. Tears were swimming below his beautiful green irises.
A sob escaped my chest and my own tears began to fall. “Please just let me go.” We stared at each other for a moment and with a nod that seemed to pain him, he leaned his forehead against mine. I stroked the stubble along his cheek and slowly he withdrew, placed a long kiss on my forehead then turned on his heel and left in the opposite direction of the dance. My chest tightened and I clung to the roof of the car next to me. Taking deep breaths I tried to stem the flow of tears, taking tissue from my clutch and dabbing at the makeup around my eyes. I took out my phone and texted Charlie, apologising that I had received some news and had to leave. Then I ordered a taxi and walked out toward the main road to meet it, hugging my arms tightly around myself to hold off the cold October air. As I sat in the dark backseat I let the tears fall again. They didn’t stop when we pulled up at the house and I paid the driver and they still flowed as I made my way up the stairs and paused on the second landing.
I wiped my cheeks and dabbed at my eyes, raised my fist, and knocked hard on Tom’s door. He opened it after a minute, looked taken aback but then smiled sympathetically and opened his door wide for me to enter. I stepped inside and placed a hand on his chest, “Ana?” I watched his confused expression as I leaned into him, wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my body against his, and brushed his lips with mine. He reciprocated, pulling my bare lower back in toward him and moaning slightly into my parted mouth. I kicked my shoes off and let him lift me. He kicked the door closed, carried me to his bedroom, and turned out the lights. As he brushed his lips along my neck I closed my mind to the pain, locked away my broken heart, and let my dress fall to the floor as the door clicked closed behind us.
Chapter 17
I decided not to stay the night at Tom’s flat. Some hours after we had slept together, and I had spilled my heart out to him, he walked me to his door and out into the hall. I hesitated before heading up the stairs to my empty flat, turned quickly, and hugged him tightly around the middle. He wrapped his arms firmly around me and kissed my cheek sweetly. I pulled away and ran up the first few steps before stopping once again. Tom peeked his head back out into the hallway at the sound of my footsteps coming to a halt. I sighed and smiled at him sadly. “You know you mean a lot to me, right?” He crossed his arms and leaned against his doorframe, staring at the floor.
“You know we can’t
keep doing this, right?” I shuffled my feet awkwardly and bit my lip, not knowing how to respond. He offered me a small smile and I relaxed, “I’m always here for you, Ana. But let’s just keep it strictly away from the bedroom from now on, ok?” I ran down the stairs and jumped into his grasp, hugging my arms around his neck. “Thank you,” I whispered before running back upstairs and shutting myself away behind my own door. Tom was there for me when I was hurting. He made me forget when I was in the worst of a bad situation. I never intended to use him, he was truly my closest and most understanding friend.
I didn’t go to class the following day and according to Charlie neither did Sam. I was a little shell shocked he had finally said goodbye. I had asked him to so I didn’t understand why I was struggling to function. I couldn’t even bring myself to paint. I directed all my calls to voicemail and ignored the texts that came in thick and fast from Charlie and Abby. Tom dropped Chinese food off outside my door knowing that I probably wanted to be on my own for a while in an MSG coma. I curled up on the sofa, my face barely visible under the duvet I had buried myself under, and stared out of the window at the ever-changing sky.
On Sunday evening I finally felt brave enough to address all the notifications on my phone. Twelve missed calls, fifteen unread text messages, and three voicemails. I went through the text messages first. Charlie was checking in to see if I was ok, he wanted to discuss something with me he thought might be a sensitive issue. I chose not to acknowledge that part and instead fired off a quick text letting him know that I was ok but a little under the weather so I was sleeping most of the day and probably wouldn’t be texting much. I then read the messages from Abby asking how the ball had gone and gradually becoming increasingly more frantic when I didn’t respond. I let her know I had been through some stuff and would call her when I’d had time to lick my wounds.
My Heart Lies in Pisciotta Page 15