Authors: Samantha Towle
“Now, I know you can take care of yourself, Bun-” I give him a hard stare, cutting off his slip up. “Sarah,” he corrects. “But I’d feel a whole lot better if I drove you home.”
It’s kind of funny to hear him calling me Sarah; I’m so used to him calling me Bunny.
Then I realise I actually like him calling me Bunny. Or the wine does. Well either way, I’m never telling him that.
“I know. I just don’t want to spoil your evening because you have to drive me home.”
“I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.” He smirks that devilish grin of his.
My skin shivers, pleasantly. “Me either.”
I give an ironic snort holding my fourth glass of wine up. Oh God. Why do I keep snorting tonight? I rub my nose, embarrassed, realising how that could actually sound.
“I mean, I’m kidding of course – of course I’m having a good time.”
“You’re having a good time – with me?” His voice is warm, amused.
He’s trapped me there. I have this urge to say no, because he can be so confident, so cocky at times, and I hate for him to be right, because it is the truth. I am having a good time here with him.
I swallow nervously and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. Pressing my lips together trying to cover a rising smile, I say, “I’m having a good time.”
His smile deepens, filling out his eyes to a shade of breathtaking. It casts an unwelcome but warm shadow deep inside of me. “And you’ve managed to hold up a full conversation with me, lasting what – nearly two hours now, without having a go or yelling at me. That must be some kind of record.”
“Funny!” Relaxing, I pull a face at him. “You need keeping in check.”
“If anyone can do that it’s you,” he says dryly. I think I see the hint of a smile.
And once again, his words have an unnerving effect on me.
“Are you going to have that drink or not?” I say, slightly rattled,
“Well I’m not drinking and driving, and you’re certainly not walking home alone, so the only other option is if you stay here the night.”
His words thud into the room like a pair of heavy boots and stomp all over my good mood.
Dropping my feet to the floor, I sit up bolt straight. “Erm, I don’t think–”
“It’s a good idea,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.
“I thought we were past all that. I have a guest room at the bottom of the hall, far away from my bedroom, and it has a lock on the door just in case you’re worried I might try and seduce you in the middle of the night.”
There’s a level of forced humour in his voice. I guess I must be kind of irritating him by now. And also it makes me sound conceited and incredibly vain, insinuating he’s trying to get into my pants every five minutes.
A flush rises up my neck, hitting my face at record speed.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I’m stuttering. “I don’t think you like me – in that way – I know it sounds like I do but –”
“And if I do?” He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.
I’m confounded and heated by his gaze. The blood quickly drains from my head.
“Eh?” I squeak.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. I can feel my body heating from the inside out. Then laughter starts to shake in his chest, spreading throughout his whole body.
“I’m kidding! The look on your face! I get that you’re immune to my good looks and charm, but really I could never date a girl like you.”
“Too witty for you?” I smart.
His eyes alight with wicked thoughts. “Nah, way too high maintenance.”
A grin.
“Look, I know you feel like you’d be disloyal to your guy by staying over, but really it’s no big deal. Men and women sleep, platonically, in the same house together, all over the world. It’s nothing new. ”
My back has stiffened ramrod straight, thoughts tossing out all over my befuddled brain. “I never said I had a guy.”
“You didn’t have to.”
There’s a long, distinctly noticeable pause, where we’re both staring at one another.
“It’s the guy who saved you from the Vârcolac?”
It’s not a question, not really, because he already knows the answer. He knew from my reaction the other day when I dressed myself in coffee.
Deep breath. “Yes.” I wrap both my hands around my wine glass, interlocking my fingers.
Then just being here with Zeff, and him reminding me so much of Sol, it just forces to the forefront everything I have lost since the day I became this version of myself. The one that brought me to the point of being sat here with him.
Tears spring to my eyes. Closing them briefly, I will them back.
“Are you okay over there?” Zeff asks, concerned lacing his voice.
I open my eyes. His are still fixed on my face.
“Hmm.” I nod. “I’m fine.”
Zeff reaches over and places the bottle of wine back on the table, along with his empty glass.
“You don’t look it,” he counters.
“No, I am. I guess, I just find it hard sometimes …” I murmur, confounded by the direction of this conversation.
“You miss him?” he queries. I note the weariness in his voice.
I nod.
“Why did you break up?”
I smile. It’s not a happy smile. More of an ironic one. “We didn’t actually break up. To do that you’d have to have an actual relationship.”
“Ahh, he a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of guy?”
Now that makes me laugh. That’s not the way I would ever choose to describe Nathan.
“No.” I shake my still laughing head. “We never actually got to the relationship stage. Things were
difficult
.”
That’s putting it mildly.
I don’t even know why I’m talking to him about this. It’s the wine. Note to self. Never drink wine again. Drunken lips cause slips.
“Difficult – because you’re a Vârcolac?”
“That … amongst other things.”
Then from out of nowhere a tear leaks from out the corner of my eye, unexpectedly. I catch it before it falls too far. I don’t think Zeff notices. If he does, he has the courtesy to pretend he doesn’t.
“You loved him?”
“Mmm.”
“So why leave?”
“Because too many people had died already.” I pull in a deep breath. “His brother was killed trying to save me from Vârcolac’s. And I didn’t want him to die too. Being with me is …” I look straight into his eyes. “Dangerous.”
If I meant to scare him, I don’t. Seemingly, it just simply rolls off him.
“And he just let you go? Just like that.”
“No. I didn’t … erm … exactly tell him I was leaving.”
“Ahh.” He nods. His gaze is unwavering. “Do you think he’s looking for you?”
“At first, maybe. But not now, no.”
I might lik Vtual> e to believe in an ideal world he is, but my world has never been ideal and I know he isn’t. Nathan stopped looking for me a long time ago.
“If I were him, I’d never stop looking,” Zeff say low, deep.
I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. I really don’t know what to say to that. I don’t think I’ve ever been as confused by someone as I am by him, right now.
Moving his heavy stare from me, he picks the wine up and fills his glass, emptying the bottle into it. Then picks his glass up and downs it in one.
Watching in confusion and wanting to clear the air of the tension I can feel coming from out him, I say, “You’re letting me walk home?”
I raise my eyebrow.
He pulls one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. “Nope. I’m just taking the choice away from you.”
“Ha!” I laugh in spite of myself. “You’re a confident son of a bitch.”
“Yeah and you’re a pain in the ass.” He stands up. “So you’re staying?”
I nod, yes.
“Good.” A smile. “You want any snacks from the kitchen? I’m gonna need some more food in me to soak up the amount of alcohol I’m intending to drink tonight.”
I raise a half-smile. It’s impossible to not smile at him, even in the weirdest of moments. I shake my head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”
Curling my legs up onto the chair I watch Zeff as he walks over to the kitchen. I drag my stare from him, and down into the honey liquid in my glass, feeling an intense mixture of emotions, praying the wine has the answers to ending the eternal ache for Nathan I feel, and the sudden and very confusing attachment I seem to have developed for Zeff.
Chapter 11: Losing Battle
I wake with a start. Not because I’m not used to waking up in strange places, because I am, believe me, but because I’m waking up at Zeff’s place.
The night quickly regales to me.
Wine. Lots of wine. Bottles and bottles of the stuff. Then vodka and whiskey … possibly gin.
Blurgh!
It takes a lot of drink to affect me nowadays, but holy crap we drank a lot; I think we may have drunk Italy dry.
And boy I was wasted.
From what I recall, Zeff is a good drunk. A fun drunk. Me on the other hand, not such a great drunk. Emotional. I actually think I cried at one point. Oh God, and Zeff had to carry me to bed.
Double God.
I reach a hand down feeling for my clothes. Still dressed. Thank you Lord.
Thirst suddenly overcoming me, I drag my parched body out of bed and straight to the en-suite bathroom. Running the cold water tap I drink straight from the faucet.
After using the bathroom I stumble back into the bedroom and sit down on the edge of the bed. I listen out for movement and can hear Zeff’s deep breaths. He’s still sleeping.
Good. It makes my exit from here all the easier.
I make the bed. My good manners stopping me from not being able to. I can't leave a mess when he was so kind as to let me spend the night.
Then moving quickly and quietly, I go out into the living room to retrieve my shoes and rucksack. Slipping them on, I leave the three hundred euros and the passport photo on the counter, and let myself out the front door with a quiet click of the handle.
I quickly pick up pace running, heading back toward town, back to my place to get showered and ready for work.
The day passes by in a blur. A haze of customers, coffee and sticky pastries. When my shift is finished, instead of going to Zeff’s for training as planned, I go back to my flat.
To hide.
From him.
I feel weird about staying at his place last night. I can’t explain why, I just do. I mean it’s not like we slept together or anything. But the fact it feels weird is ringing serious alarm bells for me.
And when the time comes, and long passes, that I should have been at his place, and I don’t hear from him and he doesn’t come looking, I take it that maybe he feels weird about last night too.
I make myself dinner; well beans on toast, and it’s more out of routine and for something to do than actual hunger. I push the food around my plate, then bin it. I don’t even feed because my stomach just feels all hollow and empty, the thought of anything going into my body makes me feel like I want to throw up.
I know why. Because I’m feeling guilty.
I haven’t thought of Nathan much in these last few days. Not like I used to. I know I want to get over him, but suddenly, since the appearance of Zeff in my life, it’s been happening all too quick and all too easily.
Look at me. A few days around a new guy and I’m forgetting about Nathan. I know I said it was what I wanted, but I didn’t mean right now, and not so quick. I wanted a gradual slip.
But now it’s started to happen way too fast. And I’m not ready. I can’t lose Nathan from the only place I have him. In my memories.
Pulling exaggerated breaths,I try to calm myself and gain some perspective. My head is buzzing.
Going into the bedroom I change into my pyjamas.
I’m probably being stupid stressing over Nathan like this. I mean, I don’t have to forget about him if I don’t want to.
And Zeff … well I know I don’t have feelings for him and he doesn’t have them for me. I got that from the way he laughed when I mentioned about last night’s din ^th="29"> ner feeling like a date. So his interference in my feelings for Nathan is a moot point.
But, well … I guess what worries me is in the short time I’ve known Zeff he hasn’t mentioned any other friends or family, except for his dead parents. I’ve never seen him take a phone call or make one, except for the call to the passport guy. He’s never mentioned any plans he has with people, and always seems available to train with me.
I get the distinct impression Zeff spends a lot of time alone. Like me. And when you put two loners together, well, then that loneliness can sometimes surface.
And not in the right way. Usually in a sex way.
A way of staving off the loneliness, for even just a short time. And that can’t happen.
But I’m just worried that the more time I spend with Zeff, that I’ll stop thinking with my head and start thinking with my hormones. They’re already rearing their crazy ass head, and when they take over – well if Zeff’s a willing participant then it’ll just be a forgone conclusion.