So Many Reasons Why (9 page)

All through my teen years, sex was something bad. Something
negative, something that could be used to hurt me. Even today, it was hard not
to see sex as a scary obstacle that would eventually be placed in the way of
moving forward in any relationship. Who thinks like that? A victim of sexual
assault. That’s who.

The knock startled me, even though I was expecting it. He
was right on time. My nerves were on high alert. I begged my inner goddess to
stay in control. Things would go pear shaped fast if my insecurities got the
better of me.

I opened the door. He stood, his lean body leaning against
the door frame. His height meant he almost touched the top of the frame. His
hair looked as though it had been styled with a run through with his fingers. I
fought back the urge to run my own fingers through it. Stray ringlets broke
through the conformity and fell around his ears.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked at me appreciatively, his eyes lingering on
my cleavage before slowly rising up to my eyes. “You look beautiful.” He
murmured, his lips curving upwards.

Oh god. I could feel my legs beginning to buckle. I wanted him.
I wanted him so bad. This friendship thing was so not going to work. I stood
aside, letting him into the apartment. I managed smile as he walked past me,
his scent hitting my senses like a sledgehammer.

Aftershave and sweat. I breathed him in. Then realised how
creepy I was being. Closing the door, I took the opportunity to compose myself.

Get a grip Emma!

He was already walking to the couch when I turned around. I
breathed in sharply. His ass. His ass was beautiful. He wore loose fitting
cargos, and a button down shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up
slightly, revealing the sculptured arms I’d admired the other day. Arms I'd
love take hold of me right now and throw me down on the couch-

“Em?” I looked up to Simon staring at me. He held up two movies
with a look of mock annoyance on his face.  “Choose.” He ordered. I
pointed to the first. I had no idea what either of them were, but frankly I
didn't care. I wasn't planning on watching the movie. I was planning on
watching him. Carol glared at Simon from her spot on top of her scratching
post. Apparently she was planning on watching him too.

“Sit down Em. You look really vague. I will grab us some
drinks.” I followed his orders and sank into the couch. Vague. Great. Now he
thinks I'm a space head. I grabbed the cover of the movie I'd chosen.

Pulp Fiction?
I
groaned inwardly. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Two hours and forty nine minutes later the movie finally
ended. That was almost three hours of my life I'd never get back.

“So?” Simon turned to face me. His eyes showed his
excitement. “How did you like it? It's a classic.” He added, smiling.

It crossed my mind to lie. I could tell him it was one of
the best movies I've seen.

 
“I appreciate the
director’s vision.” I finally offered after a great deal of thought.

Yes. That was the best I could do. There was nothing else
positive to say about the movie at all. Simon looked shocked for all of a
moment, then burst into laughter.

“You hated it.” His eyes sparkled, amused. “You know this is
one of the best movies of all time.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “It was
nominated for seven Oscars.” He cocked his head to one side, not bothering to
hide his smirk.

“Well, not my type of thing.” I shrugged my shoulders
defensively. So what if some shoot em up movie wasn’t my thing? Suddenly I had
a great idea.

“Why are you smiling all of a sudden?” Simon eyed me
nervously. I widened my grin, the idea forming in my mind.

“So, now I get to choose the movie, right?” I laughed as his
expression turned from nervous to horrified. “Come-on, it can't be that bad.” I
teased. “You trust my taste, right?”

Simon made a face.

“Hey. Stop being a dick or I will pick a really bad movie.”
Simon put his arms up in mock surrender. I kicked him playfully. Now for the
big decision. What to make him watch. It was a pretty easy decision, I leaned
past him on the couch. He gasped as my arm grazed over his chest. I jumped
back, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. My face heated up as I realised he
thought I was putting the moves on him. “No it’s not what you think. I didn’t
mean to...” I trailed off. I didn't mean to what? I wasn't even sure of what
I'd done. Simon smiled at me, his eyes sad.

“It’s not you Em, It's me.”

“That’s original.” I said dryly. “I was only trying to reach
the DVD. Nothing else.” I added. His eyes followed as I pointed to the DVD case
on the table. He handed it to me. Too quickly. His eyes avoided mine. Now he
was the one to blush. The joys of small victories.

“What did you mean?” The words were out of my mouth before I
could stop them.

Simon looked up, still embarrassed, the conversation clearly
making him uncomfortable. Finally he sighed.

“I meant I have feelings for you and I shouldn't.” He
shrugged. I watched him as he focused way too closely on a loose thread in the
seam of his pants. He liked me. Hearing him admit that made my heart swell. If
he liked me then I wasn’t being a psycho crazy stalker girl.

“Simon-” I began. He cut me off.

“No Emma. Please don't say anything. Nothing you say right
now can be a good thing.” I moved away from him, hurt by his words. Nothing I
say could be a good thing? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He sighed. I saw guilt in the eyes. Good. He should feel
bad. For the first time he was living up to his reputation as an asshole He
reached for my hand. I jerked it away, the contact like an electric shock. Now
it was my turn to focus on something completely irrelevant. I chose a small
stain on the arm of the couch.

“Em, I couldn't handle it if you told me you didn't feel
something for me.” He turned my face to his. Oh my god, his eyes. He was
staring so deeply into my eyes I felt naked. “But I don't think I could stop
myself if you said you did.” His hand gently touched my cheek.

All of a sudden I was lost in his eyes. All I wanted was for
him to kiss me. I wanted to feel his lips touch mine. I needed him. I hated
that I needed him. 

I kissed him. His shock only lasted moments, before he
kissed me back. His soft lips pressed against mine, urgently searching,
exploring.

He tasted so sweet. His hand cupped the nape of my neck,
pulling me in closer. Our kiss deepened. His other hand enclosed mine, our
fingers threaded. His skin was so soft and warm.

Eventually we parted. I sighed, leaning back into his arms.
He gently stroked my arm. I could still feel it the tension. The kiss hadn't
changed anything. I could feel it in his body language. He wasn’t going to give
in to this, he was going to fight it.

“Em, we can't. There are so many reasons why we can't do
this.” His voice was cracking, like all this was so hard for him. Had he
considered what I wanted for even a second? 

How could I be angry when I myself had no idea what I
wanted? The irony almost made me laugh.

“What reasons?” I challenged, holding his gaze.

“For starters I am your teacher. We could both get into so
much trouble over this. Second, I have a daughter. Are you ready for something
like that? You're only twenty for Christ’s sake. Which brings us to number
three, I'm 38-”

“Do you care about the age difference?” I cut in. He looked
at me, surprised by the question.

“No.” He finally said. “I don't, but others will. How old is
your mother Emma? 42? 43? I am almost the same fucking age!” I winced as his
voice rose. He obviously cared about what other people thought, and that would
be enough to strain any relationship.

“I’m sorry, I'm not yelling at you. I'm just angry at the
situation. Can you tell me your mother wouldn't have a problem with you dating
someone my age?” I couldn't tell him that. I had no idea how my mom would
react. I had no idea how she'd react to me dating anyone, other than Tom.

“I get it.” I pulled myself away from him. I did get it.
There were all the reasons in the world for us not to be together. Yet I
couldn't move past the reasons why we should. “Believe me, I get it. Honestly
though? I don’t care. I haven’t felt this way about anyone. I don’t give a shit
who has a problem with us being together.” Again, he reached for my hand.
I didn't stop him. “If you do though, then I get it.”

“I don’t care. Not about the age. I need to consider it
though. I can’t just jump into this and pretend there is nothing on the line.”
I felt myself nodding. Frustration, anxiety, confusion, I felt all that. More
than anything though I felt upset that he didn’t think I was worth the risk.

“I still want to be friends with you Em. I need you in my
life. I've never met anyone like you, yet I know so little about you.”

For the briefest moment, I was relieved. With all the feelings
coursing through me, I couldn’t handle not seeing him at all. What the hell was
wrong with me? I'd known this guy for all of a week, and I couldn’t handle life
without him?

“Okay. On one condition.” I finally said, desperate to
diffuse the intensity of the moment. He looked at me willingly and nodded.

 “Anything.” He agreed. I held up
Pretty Woman
.

“You watch this with me. Without any snide comments.” I
added, catching his look of disgust. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine, but this is punishment.” He grumbled. “I don't know
why girls love this so much anyway. It's a story about a hooker and a creepy
old man.” He yelped as I kicked him in the thigh. How dare anyone speak ill of
Richard Gere.

Since the decision to be no more than friends had been made
we had spent lots of time watching movies and eating takeaway. Simon told me
about some of his cases, which I loved hearing about. He had been over every
night, mostly late, after he’d finished work. Niggling thoughts in the back of
my head tried to convince me he must want more than friendship, wanting to be
around me so often, but I tried my best to silence them.

To be honest, I welcomed the distraction as the parole hearing
neared. Derek still found his way into my thoughts, and my nightmares daily.
Doctor Mellow had me working through each thought from beginning to end. His
idea was that maybe I could file away some of the thoughts permanently if I
gave them an ending. 

Simon’s presence gave me another focus. For me, nothing had
changed. I was falling for him, and he was sticking to his damn promise that we
would only remain friends. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted him. I
wasn't sure how much longer I could just be friends with this guy. He had done
something in the last ten days that nobody had been able to do in the past
seven years, and he’d known me for only a week.

He made me forget. Even just for the briefest of moments, I
wasn't the girl who had been raped, or the girl who had been lucky to survive
horrific injuries. I wasn't the girl who felt she had no place in the world. I
was me.

Emma.

When I was with Simon I felt wanted. I felt needed. Even if
that need could never be fulfilled, it was still there.

The sliding door squealed as I slid it open. Wide open. I
sat in the doorway, the feel of the wind blowing in my face, the security of
the frame my only protection. My eyes closed. I focused on the good. I could
hear the birds above me. It sounded like they’d created a nest in the roof.
Tiny little chirps sang out in unison. I could hear the downtown traffic in the
distance. Horns, sirens. Sounds that made me anxious and upset. Voices sang out
around me.

People walking past below, chattering, and the television of
my next door neighbour. A baby crying in the apartment block opposite me. I
slid the door shut and pulled myself to my feet. From the protection of the
window, I stood looking out over my balcony. The grey clouds looked
threatening, as though they were going to release rain at any moment. The trees
in the park adjacent to me swayed erratically in the wind. I could see what
appeared to be a kite caught in a tree branch. A small child cried hysterically
as a man tried to fish it down. Finally I moved away. It felt so good to take a
step forward. I deserved a reward. I ran the bath, filling it with a special
bubble bath gran had given me for my birthday last year.

Back in the kitchen, the kettle was almost boiled. I
rummaged through my herbal teas, finally deciding on a green and Jasmin
infusion. Beep.

I still can’t believe you made me watch that crap. 
I feel like you’ve made me less of a man.
 

The usual feeling I got when he texted engulfed my body.
True, last night I had forced him into watching
Runaway Bride
. Only after he forced me to watch
The Transporter
. It was as though we
were trying to see who could cause the other more pain. Though I still didn’t
understand how watching Richard Gere could ever be seen as a punishment.

A real man wouldn’t have felt threatened by watching
Richard Gere in the first place. Maybe I’m making you more of a man.

I slid the phone into the pocket of my dressing gown and
headed back to the bathroom. I set my tea and phone on the vanity then walked
over to the bubbling water. Dipping my hand in, I was happy it was just the
right temperature. Too often I made the water way too hot, causing what felt
like third degree burns when I finally slid in. My phone beeped again.

Richard Gere never makes anyone more of a man. I think we
need to settle this over a drink. What are your plans for tonight?

My plans for the night so far involved me in front of the
television with a can of beer and maybe some corn chips. That was, until Simon
invited himself over.

Simon sat on the couch, singing along to American Idol. I
eyed him from the other end of the couch.