Covalent Bonds

by Trysh Thompson

  It was easy to be confident in reception. But when the door to their room closed, shutting them both in together, Emily felt self-conscious. The room was lovely—both modern and traditionally stylish. It was large enough to hold a double bed, two huge wardrobes, and a seating area. Two towels folded into swans greeted them from the bed. There was a huge bouquet of flowers on the dresser making the room smell like a summer meadow. Unfortunately, it also reminded Emily just how bad she smelled after sitting on the grimy, airless train for hours. “I need a shower.”

  Jack had been poking his head in the bathroom, checking it out. He stepped away as soon as she spoke. “Feel free. I’ll use it after you.”

  “Did you want to go out for something to eat or call room service?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not really bothered. What did you want to do?”

  After spending eight hours on a cramped train, Emily wanted nothing more than to shower, get into her PJs, and eat in front of the TV. She said as much and was relieved when Jack broke into a rare smile that she felt compelled to answer. “Thank God. I was hoping you’d say that. I’m shattered.”

  “That’s settled then. Can you order room service?”

  “You’ll trust me with that responsibility?”

  She was about to answer angrily when she saw his lips twitch with amusement. His eyes were shining with uncharacteristic warmth. She laughed, relaxing. “Yes. I think I can trust you to take control of the food situation.”

  She was still smiling when she stepped into the shower. The water was hot and powerful—far more powerful than the shower in her apartment. Within minutes her skin was tingling deliciously from the pressure of it. She spent a good ten minutes soaping her skin clean using the complimentary products.

  It was only as she was rinsing herself off that she realised what she had said; she would let him take control. She gasped. To anybody else those words were meaningless. But to her, they were deplorable. Inexcusable. She had made a promise to herself that she would never let anybody take control of her life again. And she meant it.

  It was a slip, she told herself, switching off the shower and stepping out, nothing more. She scanned the bathroom, looking for the towels. When her eyes fell on the two tiny hand towels by the sink, blood crashed into her face. In her eagerness to shower, she had forgotten to grab the towels from the bed, and her pyjamas were still in her bag.

  She considered wearing the dirty clothes from earlier but one sniff of her hoodie and she disregarded the idea. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door just a crack and peered through, careful to hide her nakedness behind the door. “Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you er… grab me a towel from the bed?”

  The bed creaked as he hauled himself to his feet. His tread was heavy on the deep carpet. When he reached the door he caught a glimpse of something behind her head and he froze, his eyes widening in shock and something else that she couldn’t quite recognise. It looked like hunger. His breath was hoarse in his throat. Then he blinked, tore his gaze away and directed it to the floor. He held out a towel in a shaking hand, not meeting her eyes.

  Without thinking, Emily turned to see what the cause of his reaction was. She gasped in horror. Directly behind her was a large mirror and it was angled so perfectly that her nakedness was clear for him to see. Squealing, she slammed the door. Tears of embarrassment immediately pricked at her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand.

  Jack was still outside the door. “Emily?”

  “Go away!”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m so sorry Emily.” His voice hitched with shame.

  As mortified as she was, Emily knew it wasn’t his fault but she couldn’t help but yell, “Just leave the towel and go away!”

  The towel dropped to the floor just outside the door and he shuffled away. From his slow heavy steps, she could tell he was as mortified as she was. When she was sure he was on the other side of the room, she reached through the tiniest opening of the door and snatched the towel inside. She wrapped it around her body as though her speed would take away the humiliating memory of what had just happened.

  Covered, she felt a bit better. But knowing that she had to walk out there in just a towel to get her pyjamas threatened to undo what small level of composure she had. Taking a deep calming breath and holding her head high, she opened the door and quickly retrieved her bag. Though she didn’t look his way, she felt Jack’s eyes on her the entire time, though to her infinite relief the atmosphere felt awkward rather than smug.

  “Dinner will be here in ten minutes,” he said softly, and she knew he was trying to smooth over the embarrassing incident.

  “I’ll be five minutes.” She answered in the same tone.

  She dressed quickly in the bathroom, wishing that she had brought something a little less revealing than her favourite satin PJs. The thin material clung to her damp skin, emphasising every curve. The straps of the matching vest top kept slipping off her shoulders. But she had no other choice so, after towel drying and brushing her hair, she took another deep breath and wandered back into the bedroom.

  Jack stood when he saw her. He had taken off his shoes and socks but was still wearing his jeans and tee—which featured the image of a storm trooper on it. The sight of it reminded Emily of Sarah’s words, that she would never be interested in a nerd like Jack. They didn’t just sound shallow now, they sounded… untrue.

  “Emily…” he began, still not meeting her eyes.

  She held up a hand. “Let’s never mention it again, if you don’t mind. And never, ever say anything to the team about what just happened. I don’t want to whole world to know that I flashed you my arse. That’s how rumours start…”

  She meant it as a joke, a light-hearted way to strip the humiliation of the situation. But as soon as his face fell, she knew he had taken it literally. “You think I would do something like that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good, because I would never do that,” he said, earnestly.

  “I know that, Jack. You’re not that type of man. But, let’s just not mention it, okay? I’m pretty embarrassed about the whole thing.”

  He made the motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Then he smiled, his face softening as he did. It made him look boyish, less intense. His hazel eyes locked on hers and she thought she saw that same hunger that she witnessed in the bathroom. Her stomach clenched nervously. He took a step forward and she knew—she knew—he was going to kiss her again. A part of her wanted him to. The realisation sent a powerful wave of arousal through her.

  Suddenly, a hard knock at the door shattered the tension in the room. Emily gave a breathless laugh. “The food. I’ll get it.”

  “No. I’ll get it,” he said, already walking away. He was halfway to the door before she realised he had overruled her again. Furious, she watched as he paid the waiter and took the tray of food. When he closed the door and turned back to her, he stopped. “What have I done now? Is the look on your face because I got the food?”

  “What look on my face?” she snapped.

  “The one that looks like you’re about to bite my head off.”

  “Well, you’re being bossy and arrogant again. I said I would get it. You practically leapt at the door to get there first.”

  “Emily,” Jack said, patiently, “I wasn’t being bossy. I was just—”

  “—helping me?” she guessed, anger lacing her words. When would he accept that she didn’t need his help? She was doing fine by herself.

  “No, I was…” He had a gloomy expression on his face, as though he didn’t want to explain to her. “I didn’t think you’d want to go to the door in your pyjamas.” When she opened her mouth to argue he let out a reluctant sigh. “Emily, look down.”

  She did, and then gasped. Her nipples, erect from her earlier arousal, were poking perkily through the thin material of her satin top. The round curvature of her breasts was easily visibl
e. She crossed her arms quickly. “This is all I have. I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room.”

  Jack slid the tray of food onto the dresser. He rifled through his open bag until he found a clean t-shirt. He tossed it to her. “I know. I just didn’t think you’d want to answer the door like that. And I didn’t want to make you embarrassed again by mentioning it. I swear I wasn’t being controlling.”

  “Thank you.” She said reluctantly. She pulled his t-shirt over her head, trying not to inhale the incredible smell emanating from the cotton. It smelled like Jack. She peered down, hoping to see something nerdy. She wasn’t disappointed; his tee had the cover of Broken Sword on it—it was her favourite Playstation One game. She grinned happily.

  Jack saw her reaction and smiled, the two dimples either side of his mouth reappearing. “You like Broken Sword?”

  “Who doesn’t like George Stobbart? It was always my favourite game on the PS. Have you played it?”

  “A hard-core gamer like myself? Of course. It was my favourite too. It was the one that made me want to get into the gaming industry. I knew the film industry was out so…” he shrugged, “I once got stuck for months at the part in Ireland.” As he spoke, he carried the tray over to the bed and sat down. He had ordered panini sandwiches and chips, as well as two beers. The smell of the food made her stomach growl.

  Emily sat down facing him, one leg tucked beneath her. “Let me guess. The part where you have to stick the manhole tool into the wall?”

  He laughed. It was a lovely sound, uninhibited and relaxed. “How did you know?”

  “Because I couldn’t get past that bit either until Anthony helped me.”

  “Anthony?” He asked delicately, not quite meeting her eyes.

  “My best friend when I was growing up. He’d already played it through so knew what he was doing.” She shook her head, amused. “The kids these days, with their Google and Gamefaqs. They don’t know how hard it was for us, not just being able to find out the answer straight away.”

  He snorted. “They have it so easy. Did you play the later games?”

  She shook her head. “I played one through three. Sleeping Dragon, I think it was called. Do you remember it?”

  “Yes. The 3D one.”

  “It was all box puzzles. I didn’t enjoy it all so I gave up on them after that one.”

  Jack nodded in agreement and then took a bite of his panini. They ate in a companionable silence. Emily marvelled at how easy it was to talk to him when he wasn’t being abrupt and awkward. She stuffed a chip in her mouth and said, “What did you mean you knew the filming industry was out? Did you want to do something with film?”

  He nodded, not really looking at her. “Yeah, I did a media and film degree at university. There’s something magical about seeing someone’s vision on screen, at seeing something so obviously not real become real. I mean, look at Star Wars. That was filmed in the seventies but I swear even when I was a kid, I couldn’t get my head around it not being real. How can Han Solo not be a real person? How can lightsabres not really cut people’s arms off?”

  Surprised, Emily paused with her panini halfway to her mouth, studying him. Trevor loved film. He collected them by the hundreds. He used to have them proudly presented on a huge unit in the living area. She had never heard him speak with such passion, such love. Though she never said it out loud, she always suspected his enjoyment of film was more for people to see how cool he was, how knowledgeable. If she ever asked what his favourite was, he invariably answered with some artsy-fartsy film she had never heard of—or ever seen him watch.

  With Jack it felt like a genuine love. He was a nerd, through and through.

  Feeling curious, she asked him, “What did you mean ‘you knew it was out?’”

  His eyes jerked to her face. He put his panini back on his plate and sighed, “I… it’s just not an easy industry to get in.”

  Emily frowned. “That’s not what you were going to say. What made you choose gaming instead of film?”

  “I just did.”

  “But what did you—”

  “Emily, will you just drop it?” He said, his tone uncharacteristically harsh. He was scowling, but not at her.

  “Okay, fine. No need to be rude,” she said, returning to her food. They would never be friends, she understood that, but she didn’t understand why he was so aloof, so unknowable. Just when she thought she might learn something about him, he shut her down. She gave an internal shrug, trying to ignore the disappointment in her chest.

  He sighed. “It’s because I’m shy, Emily. I could never get up there and act on stage. I can barely have normal conversations with people. There’s no way I could…” His voice broke off. He shrugged, waves of discomfort rolling off his lumbering body.

  Emily stared at him, unexpectedly touched that he had confided in her. She knew better than to try push him for more information. Neither of them spoke until their meal was finished. Jack took their plates and put them out into the hall. When he returned, he carried the two open beers that were delivered with their meal, and he handed one to her.

  “TV?” he asked in a light tone, as though trying to soothe the tense atmosphere.

  She nodded. He switched it on using the remote control and flipped channels until they came across a movie station. Emily laughed and clapped excitedly when she saw it was Dawn of the Dead. She leaned back on the bed, getting comfortable. Jack did the same but he seemed to struggle to find a good position; he shifted every few minutes. Each time he did, her eyes shot over to him. On the fourth time, she raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. He jostled his position one more time and then smiled. It felt light and teasing. “Okay, I can feel it. This is the position. It’s a winner. I won’t bother you again.”

  Lying with his back resting on the headboard, his long, muscular legs casually sprawled out before him and a bottle of beer perched between his thighs, Jack looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him. His tee was ruffled and had slipped up over his belt, revealing a thing strip of his skin. She flushed when she saw the dark hair on his lower stomach. She had an almost insatiable urge to reach out and stroke it to see if it was a soft as it looked.

  As her eyes travelled upwards, across his powerful chest and shoulders, they finally fell on his handsome face and she realised he was watching her. Already flushed, she felt her entire face flood with colour.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, a searching look in his eyes.

  “Yes, of course,” she answered, ignoring the strange pull of attraction. She tucked her hair behind her ears and turned back to the TV. They watched for a few minutes in an atmosphere that seemed friendly and companionable but Emily felt the strong undercurrent of tension between them. To try and smooth over the awkward atmosphere she said, “Did you know that the ice rink in Monroeville Mall was taken out and replaced with a food court?” Even to her ears she sounded falsely cheery.

  Jack was still watching her. For a second she didn’t think he was going to answer, then he said, “I did know that. I’ve been to the mall. I did the trip a few years back with a few friends. Dressed as a zombie, no less.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say. The weirdness between them was instantly forgotten. She cackled with laughter. “As a zombie? Seriously? Please tell me you have pictures!”

  He smiled as he lifted his hips and dug his mobile phone out of his front pocket. The action made his jeans dip lower and she couldn’t help her eyes from dropping lower. He flicked through the screen for a few seconds then held out the phone. She took it from him, careful to avoid his touch. A delighted laugh escaped her when she saw the picture. Taken a few years ago, Jack had much longer hair. His skin was painted a thick grey-blue colour, with fake blood oozing from his neck. He was wearing chinos and a white shirt that were instantly recognisable.

  “You went dressed as Flyboy?”

  Obviously pleased with her reaction, he took a casual swig of his beer, trying to repress
a smile. “The one and only.”

  “That is amazing.” She handed his phone back. “I’m very impressed at the dedication. I had no idea what a fan boy you were.”

  “I had no idea what a fan girl you were. Gamer and horror nerd? Who knew?” He grinned, his eyes lingering on hers.

  His words sent a flash of pleasure through her. For some reason, she liked that he thought she was a nerd. “My ex made me watch it once. He’s a film buff. It was on one of those top twenty cult classic lists that he made his way through. He hated the film, said it was poorly made and low budget. He just didn’t get it. Not the way I did. I loved it from the first watch.”

  “I’m so surprised. You always seem…” He stopped, cleared his through and then said, “You surprised me at the quiz, knowing the answer to that question. I thought I was the only Dawn of the Dead fan in the office.”

  But Emily had stopped listening. As irrational as it was, she felt her temper flare up, more acute because it came so closely on the heels of her pleasure. “What did I always seem?”

  He blinked, the smile sliding from his face. “What?”

  “You said ‘you always seem’ and then stopped. That’s twice now. What do you mean?”

  Emily didn’t like how his face closed up; it seemed to confirm her suspicions. He was judging her. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Then you won’t mind explaining it.” When he didn’t answer, she prompted, “Is this about me being girly again?”

  He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Then what’s your problem with me liking horror films.”

  “I don’t have a problem.” He took a deep breath, as though composing himself. Then he met her eyes with his characteristic awkwardness. But there was something warmer there. Something more intense. Awestruck. It made her stomach clench with desire. “I’m surprised because Dawn of the Dead is nerdy. Not geek-chic, but outright nerdy. Like Star Trek kind of nerdy. You always seemed too cool for that. Too cool to be a nerd like me.”