Eternally North (19 page)

I immediately opened
them again. I was starting to get a headache. “Yeah, sorry, and
call me Tash or Natasha. Erm…Where was I...? Yeah, what the hell,
coffee would be nice.”

He released a nervous
breath. He seemed nice, completely different to Tudor: easy-going,
happy, cheerful, slim but athletic, not ridiculously muscly and he
seemed free of any visible tattoos. Not a bad boy! Coffee with Gage
may be exactly what the doctor ordered; a nice and friendly,
normal
,
everyday guy.

“Can I have your
number?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I took his mobile,
entered my digits and almost dropped it when I heard a huge crash
coming from somewhere nearby, but looking around I couldn’t tell
where. Probably just some of the props falling off their hooks.

I held out my hand.
“Until the weekend, Gage.”

He shook my hand, and
held on for a second too long. “Until the weekend.”

He turned to walk away
and I picked my glass back up, readying myself for another parent
mingling marathon.

“Natasha?”

“Mmm?” I swung
around to Gage.

“By the way, love the
accent! I have a thing for Brits. Too much watching Julie Andrews
movies when I was younger!” he winked.

I laughed and gave him
an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He disappeared through the crowd, and I
couldn’t help watching him go. Maybe my luck was improving after
all.

I was about to step
back into the fray when movement from the left of me caught my
attention. The side door at the back of the hall opened wide, an arm
grabbed the top of mine and I was pulled into the dark unused
corridor, the door shutting tightly behind me, blocking off the
guests in the hall.

What the…???

I was pushed against
the hard cement wall, and looked up to find Tudor braced in front of
me, encasing me in the cage of his arms and breathing heavily against
my skin.

My palms and back were
flat against the wall, my face mere inches from his. He squeezed his
eyes shut and opened them a second later, intense emerald-green
irises boring into mine.

He lowered his right
arm and I felt a ghost of a touch on my hip. I gasped at the
sensation. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think to form a
sentence.

What the hell was
happening?

Without breaking eye
contact, he trailed his fingers up the side of my dress, past my
stomach which tightened in response, over my ribs and finally past
the edge of my breast, both of us holding in our breath. He continued
up to my throat. I tried to speak, to ask what was happening. I
opened my mouth and his finger lay across my lips, silencing me in
advance.

His hands reached down,
taking hold of mine, our fingers clasping and he raised my arms over
my head, restraining me from moving. His lips brushed over my
forehead, my cheeks and then moved down to my neck.

I let out a moan, it
felt too good. “Tudor, God… what…
uhh
…!” I
whispered.

His lips moved back
north, hot breath gliding over my skin, causing me to shiver, until
his lips were feathering over mine, never once kissing but so
deliciously close.

I moved forward,
yearning for the connection, but he moved back and exhaled a painful
moan.

“I can’t keep doing
this, Tash. What you said to me when we went skating, I can't stop
thinking about it. You like me.
'Just me for me'. 'Your Tudor'
.
God, it's all I think about,” he confessed in a soft tone.

He placed both of my
hands in one of his, his free hand grabbing a fist full of my hair,
tipping back my head, his forefinger stretching out to run
continuously up and down my cheek in a hypnotising motion,
up and
down, up and down.

“Doing what…?” I
was lost to the touch.

“I-I can’t keep
wanting you like this and not having you… not tasting you... not
being with you.”

“Mmm…” was my
only response, his fingers leaving my hair and moving to caress my
lips, round and round, tracing the edge of my cupid’s bow.

Unable to take the
teasing sensation, I licked my bottom lip, brushing my tongue past
his finger.

He let out a strangled
hiss. “I want you. I want you
now
, so badly I can’t
breathe.”

"You said you
didn't like me, said I wasn’t your type," I reminded him
huskily.

He looked right into my
eyes. "I lied."

He lied!

I couldn't control
myself, my emotional dam broke. “Then take me… I don't care
anymore.”

“
Tash…
”

He reached down,
seizing my thigh and pulled it up to cradle over his hip.

He pushed forward,
pinning me hard against the cold brick, his mouth grazing across my
ear, lapping at the lobe with his tongue. “I want to take you here
against the wall, make you all mine, do you want that, Tash? Tell me
you want that too.”

“Oh my God, yes! Now,
Tudor, please…” I practically screamed.

He hoisted my leg
higher, letting me feel how much he did want it. He nuzzled my hair
and ground his hips into mine. “I’m going to hell… I’m not
supposed to let this happen, this shouldn’t happen, they warned me,
but I can’t stop, this isn’t a good idea,
us being together
is not a good idea.”

He reared his head back
and met my gaze. “Tell me to stop, Tash, you need to tell me to
stop…” he pleaded.

He dropped his
restraint on my hands and cupped my head with his other arm. His
attention fell to my lips, and he rubbed his together with a lick,
causing them to shine and moisten, ready for my touch.

He broke his trance,
and his heavy eyes made their way back to mine. “I can’t want you
this much; you’re not good for me. You’re not meant for me, hell,
I’m a fucking nightmare for you. But I have to do this, I can’t
stop now…”

He closed in, lips
achingly close to mine, but I pulled away at the last second swaying
my head to the side. My first kiss with this man would not be like
this. He shouldn’t regret it.

Tudor stepped back and
dropped my leg. His hands lifted, and he slammed his fists against
the wall above, breathing heavily.

“Tash–” he
sounded like he was in pain.

“No. Stop,” I
commanded, my palm thrust against his chest.

“Tash, listen–"

“No, you listen,” I
bit out viciously.

I couldn’t look at
him so instead I focused on the floor. “I can’t do this with
you
…
I like you Tudor, probably too damn much and obviously more than you
do me, but what the hell? ‘
You can’t want me? I’m no good
for you? Tell you to stop?
’ Why are you here doing this? Did
you think speaking to me like that would be okay? From the moment I
met you, you have toyed with me so badly and I give in every time. I
like you but… but, God, I have to like myself more than this, and I
can’t be with someone who fights so hard against wanting
me
.”

His eyes squinted shut,
his jaw muscle clenching over and over. “Tash, it’s complicated.
You
make this complicated for me. You don’t understand!”
he shook his head losing his temper.

I swallowed hard,
trying not to show my hurt. “Then help me understand! It’s not
complicated Tudor, or at least it shouldn’t be. If you want someone
and they want you back its simple. It’s the simplest thing in the
whole friggin’ world. I’ve had enough of complicated. I want
simple, I want normal.
You’re
anything but.”

He expelled a venomous
laugh. “You mean like
him
?”

“What? Who?” I
answered confused.

“That hippy,
pansy-looking guy out there? The one who was practically drooling all
over you!”

“Gage?” I
questioned, my headache now thumping to an almost unbearable rate. I
really wasn’t feeling right.

“Oh, Gage is it?”
he said sarcastically. “Did you agree to go out with him? I heard
him ask you?”

What the–? Has he
been watching me all this time?

I tilted my chin up in
defiance. “So what if I did?”

He sucked in a sharp
breath, eyes wild, hitting a clenched fist against the wall
repeatedly a few feet above my head.

“You can’t!” he
stated evenly through gritted teeth, shaking his head as he loomed
over my smaller frame.

How dare he?!

“Too bloody right I
can and
I am
. What’s it to you anyway? You don’t want me,
remember? ‘
We are nothing!
’ I’m not going to shag you
now, against this wall, just to have you regret it because I'm not
good enough for you.” I prodded my finger against his chest. It
didn’t even make him flinch.

He let out a humourless
snort. “‘
What’s it to me?
’ she says. I won’t allow
it, that’s what! I fucking forbid it! Tash, you can’t do this to
me. I can’t stomach the thought of you with him!”

That hit a nerve. “Do
this to you? You won’t allow it? You forbid it! What the hell are
you going on about Tudor? You are an absolute mind-fuck. You
can’t
have me, you
don’t
want me, but nor can any other man? Do
you see how royally screwed-up that is? You’re sounding insane!”

He moved closer, an
inch from my lips. He licked and rubbed his, hypnotising with the
movement of his tongue. “I can’t watch you be like that with
other men.”

“Be like what?” I
asked, in total shock at his admission.

“All flirty…
wanting them… you only do that for me, you’re only meant to do
that for me.”

I physically crumpled
against the wall, my head in my hands. “Tudor, I can’t take this!
What do you want from me? First, you’re all over me like a rash,
even though it’s against what you want, then you reject me and now
you
forbid me
from going for coffee with a guy who doesn’t
bloody hide his interest towards me. Who can be seen with me in
public. Who seems genuinely interested in me. Who doesn’t seduce me
while all the time telling me he doesn’t want to be with me. Who is
fucking
normal
! Have I missed anything? Please, let me know?
Make me understand all this shit you’re putting me through!” I
cried.

He just stood there,
panting harshly and not moving, for what seemed like an eternity. He
dipped his forehead to mine, allowing us to touch and sending an
electric current shooting through my body straight to my heart.

“You’re right,”
he whispered, resigned.

He backed away and
leaned against the opposite wall. I felt exposed and empty by the
loss of his physical proximity.

“I have absolutely no
say in what or
who
you do. Forget I said anything. Forget
tonight, it was a mistake, a fucking huge mistake.” He crossed his
bulging arms over his chest and looked down at the floor.

For a moment, my heart
fell; the look on his face was utterly heart-breaking. Like a child
who had just been told that Santa wasn’t real – completely
shattered.

I went to move towards
him, but he stood and shook his head and began backing up towards the
emergency exit, hands out in surrender.

I clenched my fists and
shrieked, hurt lacing my voice. “Tudor! What are you doing to me?
Why? Tell me why you’re doing this? Did you mean what you said? Was
all this tonight a big mistake?”

He stood completely
still and lifted his head to the side, not quite looking back. “Go
on your date, Tash, enjoy yourself. Forget about me. Go get married,
have kids, have a good life with a
normal guy
… God knows you
wouldn’t get that with me.”

He walked away from me
once more and this time, I was sure, completely out of my life.

My head pounded,
pulsing with a dull pain and I felt weak. I went to grab my coat from
my office and snuck away from the party. I couldn’t face anyone
else.

* * *

The next morning Tink
left at the crack of dawn after creeping into my room and leaving a
goodbye kiss on my head.

I woke a few hours
later to go to the bathroom, and then it hit me. The feeling I hadn’t
felt for several months: the pain, the nausea, the helplessness, the
bloody evil condition that brings me to my knees.

As I lost
consciousness, I just remembered thinking
Why now? Tink… help…

And then it all went
dark.

I could hear the phone
ringing… again. As I lay on the floor of my bedroom, a perfect view
of underneath the bed, watching a cluster of lint float by my face,
Lady Gaga’s
‘Bad Romance’ ringtone taunting me and my
current predicament.

I was present in terms
of being able to see and hear, but I could not muster an ounce of
energy to move. I tried to send a message to my limbs to pick
themselves up and move towards the sound of my salvation; the message
failed.

If I were to hazard a
guess, I reckoned I had been in that spot for roughly twelve hours or
so. The sun had set and cast the room in a blanket of darkness.

I drifted in and out of
sleep and had managed to manoeuvre myself into various foetal
positions to ease the discomfort, but I never quite managed to hoist
my unresponsive carcass off the floor. I was thirsty, feverish and
basically felt worse than a sheikh with a broken dick being thrown
into a harem of eager women.

I’d been so blind. I
should have seen the signs. When I’m stressed or not looking after
myself well, my condition kicks in. I have problems with my hormones,
it’s something called Cushing's Syndrome, and when they are put
under pressure, they can affect my already-weak immune system. It’s
not unpredictable; it shouldn't catch me by surprise. It was actually
like bloody clockwork, a simple formula: lack of care leads to days
of hell. Accidentally forgetting to take my medication may also have
hindered things for me too, and then when I’m stressed everything
is knocked off-kilter and I end up in that situation – face down on
my bedroom floor, and that time without my favourite fairy to fly me
to safety.