by Lisa Swallow
“You never said they were coming,” I mutter.
“Matt texted me, wanted to know where I was, so I told him.”
“Are you two getting serious?” My stomach is tingling with butterflies at Evan’s presence, and he hasn’t reached the table yet. Get a grip.
Abby takes a slurp from her bottle as Matt approaches. “Maybe.”
Minutes later, Matt and Abby snuggle together onto the red vinyl bench, so I move across onto a stool. A glance over my shoulder confirms Evan is joining us; he’s buying drinks at the bar and isn’t talking to anyone around him. Great.
Sitting with Matt and Abby is uncomfortable enough, but once Evan joins, we’ll be back to where we were our first night. Awkward, with unwanted amounts of sexual tension sparking in the air between us. The sensible Ness tries to leave, but the heedless Ness remains rooted to her seat. Why? Because I haven’t seen him since we met at the top of the stairs and I want to find out more.
* * *
EVAN
“I got you a coke, Vanessa,” I say and set the drinks down on the table. “But I see you’re on the beers tonight?”
She takes a drink, avoiding my eyes. Weird, I’d never have taken her as a beer drinker.
“No, just one. I need to drive home.”
Vanessa’s folded jacket and white shirt indicate she hasn’t been home from work yet. Again, I can see the tantalizing lace beneath her top but this time I’m quick enough to move my eyes before she spots me. Something about this girl turns me on; I don’t need to get close to or even touch Vanessa, and I’m itching to get my hands on all of her.
Abby and Matt are snuggling and giggling, their behaviour is uncomfortable and amplifies the tension between me and Vanessa. I slide onto the stool next to her and when my knee brushes Vanessa’s, she jerks away as if I’ve given her an electric shock.
“Thanks for the drink,” she says.
“No problem.”
And silence.
“How’s work?” I ask.
“Shit.”
The word sounds strange coming from Vanessa’s mouth. She’s paler than usual, and her mouth downturned. “That bad, huh?”
Vanessa swigs more beer. “Bad day. That’s all.”
I summon a sympathetic look, but inside a voice says, ‘ha, ha told you so.’ Princess Vanessa isn’t coping well with her life amongst the commoners.
“How’s poetry class?” she asks a little snidely.
“Ah. Yeah, sorry.” The other night had to come up; I’d hoped she’d dismiss what happened. Crap, I say some dumb stuff when I’m pissed.
“Sorry? But it was so cute the way you quoted poetry at me while your latest conquest waited downstairs for you.”
She offers me a fake smile. Every time I think I’m going to like this girl, she puts her claws in. “You judging me again, Vanessa?”
“No. Just stating a fact, Evan.”
We lock gazes; the challenge back on. The stress on her face and tired smudges beneath her eyes bother me and I rub my mouth, debating whether to be nicer. Vanessa’s pupils darken before she switches her focus to a spot behind me. Interesting.
“I didn’t,” I say.
“Didn’t?”
“Have sex with the blonde girl.” Why do I say this? What does Vanessa’s opinion matter?
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Blonde girl? So she doesn’t even have a name?”
“Vanessa, you always think the worst. Of course, I know her name. She’s Candice and is in my Medieval Lit class, and she’s still talking to me.”
“So what happened? Did she pass out?”
I shake my head slowly at Vanessa, catching a glint of something in her eye. She’s doing this deliberately. “Of course she did, how else would Candice resist my charms unless she was unconscious?”
“Brush up on your poetry, maybe that’ll keep her awake long enough.” Her response is batted straight back, as if we’re in a game of tennis.
Scrap that thought. These encounters with Vanessa are interesting and maybe I’m not wasting my time. It’s been a while since I had a verbal sparring match with someone other than my sister, and this is fun. I don’t normally bother talking to girls; getting to know them makes things complicated, and I don’t want complicated. Vanessa’s different; she’s intriguing, and it will take more than flattery to get her into bed. Maybe I can meet this challenge and deal with the claws after all.
“How’s your sex life?” I ask.
She splutters into her beer. “What the hell?”
“You seem very interested in mine.”
“I’m not talking about that with you!” Pink creeps across her pale skin.
“Then quit talking about mine.” I smile, waiting for the confused look, the comeback.
Vanessa sets down the glass and tucks her hair behind her ear slowly. “Sorry, I’m just intrigued by your uncanny ability to turn on every girl around you.” She runs her tongue across her top lip and leans towards me.
Her sudden switch in attitude catches me by surprise. This has slipped beyond a challenge because I’m caught out. I rearrange my features back into my normal, laid-back look.
“Not me though,” she continues and finishes her beer, smiling into the glass.
“Not yet,” I say, recovering and joining her game, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.
I catch the vanilla scent of her perfume, my face close enough to feel her breath stroke my face. Jesus, I want this girl in my bed.
She moves her head back. “I saw you then.”
“Saw me?”
“I saw Evan. The real Evan.” She sips her drink.
“What real Evan?”
Vanessa’s shining green eyes remain focused on mine. “You tell me.”
The space between us contracts, as if she’s seen something carefully hidden. She touches her gold necklace, fingers trailing across her collarbone just above her breasts. Is she doing this deliberately? It’s fucking hot. I return her look with mine; the one I use on girls I want in my bed as soon as possible. It works. The blush creeps from her cheeks to her neck and she breaks eye contact. Nice try, Vanessa. Game on.
8
NESS
The minute I agreed to go to the pub with Abby, I should’ve known what would happen. Several drinks in quick succession led to Abby’s decision that we head to the local Indian restaurant. The curry house is a short walk from the pub, so my refusal to join them would be rude. Still, I attempt to get out of the meal, but a combination of Abby’s insistence and a quiet plea from Evan not to be alone with the lovebirds wears me down. Plus the fridge at home is empty as usual. Admittedly, my intrigue with Evan’s behaviour tonight also plays a part. I can’t tell what game he’s playing, but I’m going to win.
Stepping from the street into the restaurant, my senses are assaulted by the smell of spices and the brightness of the red and gold decor. If we’d arrived any later, the place would be full of post-pub students, but there’s only one other couple here. Matt orders five different dishes and soon the table is piled with an assortment of steaming curries, accompanied plates of naan bread and bowls of rice. The mingling flavours remind me I’m hungry, and my appetite pushes out the strange feeling I’ve had in my stomach since talking to Evan in the pub. I unashamedly fill a plate with chicken tikka, naan, and bhajis.
“Not a typical girl, are you?” Evan sits across the table and looks between my full plate and Abby’s, which contains a tiny pile of rice and a spoonful of rogan josh. I look directly into Evan’s eyes and shove a huge piece of naan bread into my mouth.
“Nope,” I say through the bread.
Abby giggles. “She’s not a typical anything.”
“I’m starting to see,” he replies in a low voice.
My dampened hormones rage back to life and I hold my breath. Evan is not the person I want to reawaken the need I’ve buried since I broke off my relationship with Josh. I’ve been doing okay on my own, thank you. I do not need to start fantasising about
someone who’s guaranteed to break my heart. I lick sauce from my bottom lip and Evan watches, biting his own. What obsession does this guy have with my mouth? I can guess, and my mind instantly conjures up an image of his lips on mine. I grab a spoon and distract myself by ladling more food onto the plate.
Abby and Matt flirt and do the gross feeding each other thing, Abby giggling with each forkful he stuffs in her mouth. Evan lifts a forkful of curry in my direction and raises an eyebrow at me.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m not three years old.”
He grins and slides the fork into his own mouth, licking his lips slowly. I laugh at him mimicking me.
The easy-going atmosphere is a relief after the crap at work. The build-up of tension between me and Abby melts away with every shared joke. Evan is more relaxed too, the smart comments replaced with normal conversation. Perhaps co-existing with students will work. Here, with the three of them, I’m not on the edge of the student world, looking sulkily in as I usually am.
“I have a question for you,” Evan says.
My mind jumps to alert. “Oh?”
“Don’t stress; nothing dodgy. Just, why do you live in the middle of a student ghetto, socialise with students, but work in a crappy job when you could be at uni?”
“I told you, I didn’t want my parents running my life for me.”
“So study something else.”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation twice in one day. “And get crap from them about wasting their money? No, I’m paying my own way in life from now on.”
Evan takes a drink from his beer bottle. “Isn’t that still letting them run your life for you? If you’re doing something you don’t want just to prove a point?”
His words smart. “You should be a studying psychology,” I retort.
“Just saying.” As he continues to eat, I catch him studying my face, but not in the hungry, sexual way from before. If he’s trying to figure me out, he may as well stop. My situation is clear and simple; I’m a teenager chasing independence.
“How about you? What do your parents think about your life choices?” I ask.
He frowns at me. “Are you talking about me studying a waste of time degree?”
“No, I never said that. Did they?”
Turning back to his meal, Evan pushes at the chicken on his plate. “Like you, I don’t want my future dictated by what other people want from me,” he says after a long pause.
The hardness in Evan’s voice warns me this isn’t banter anymore and I back off. Right off. We continue our meal in silence, while an oblivious Matt and Abby continue their flirtations.
Time passes and Matt lines a couple more bottles on the table in front of him, but Abby and Evan stop drinking.
As we leave, I point at the lack of bottles in front of Evan. “You’re slacking; it’s nine in the evening and you’re sober.”
Evan holds the door open for me. “I don’t drink every night.” He follows me through. “Just most.”
The approaching winter bites and I pull my thin jacket tight. Disappointingly, Evan’s mood remains subdued after I hit a nerve earlier. I parked my car on the edge of campus, and I’m grateful it’s still in one piece. I know there’re floodlights and security, but the campus isn’t the sensible place to leave a car at night. Matt and Abby hop in the back and their low voices quiet into what I hope is just kissing.
“You coming back with us, Evan?” asks Abby.
Evan’s large frame settles into the passenger seat beside me, and I steal a glimpse at him. The smile he gives me doesn’t have the usual hidden meaning attached. So I smile back.
“If that’s okay with Vanessa.”
Abby giggles. “No one calls her Vanessa. Apart from her mum and dad.”
“I know, but she hasn’t given me permission to call her anything else.” Evan looks ahead and bites his lip.
“Better Ness than ‘babe.’”
He snorts with amusement. “I prefer Vanessa. I told you why.”
“Why?” Abby asks.
“Because Evan fits…” he begins and I slap his leg in horror.
“What? I don’t understand?” says Abby.
I don’t hear her, when I touched his leg Evan caught my hand, and he traces his thumb across the back of it. His soft touch sends tingling shocks up my arm. And down. How can one touch arouse me like this? I stare at the steering wheel, battling between the desires to let him keep stroking my hand me and pulling away.
Matt whacks my headrest. “Come on! Some of us want to go to bed!”
“Shh…” Abby puts her hand over his mouth.
I tear my fingers from Evan’s, before the connotations of Matt’s words spread through the car. Attempting to hide my increased difficulty in breathing, I concentrate on driving us home.
* * *
Evan lounges on the sofa, legs outstretched and beer bottle in hand. As I leave the kitchen with a couple of drinks for Abby and me, I pause. There’s unmistakable intent in his expression as he watches and slowly takes a drink. Crap. I should’ve taken him home.
Matt and Abby entangle on the armchair by the window and my only option is the sofa next to Evan. I chicken out and sit on the arm at the opposite end to him.
He twists his body towards me. “I don’t bite, Ness.”
“That’s a predictable thing to say.” I feign ignoring him and take a drink of lager.
He shuffles along the sofa towards me, and my pulse rate picks up. Thank god, the room is dim enough to hide my change of colour.
“Very true. Should I try poetry instead?” I give in and flop into the space between us; he shifts closer, solid thigh touching mine. I flinch and he moves his leg away again. “What do you prefer? Shakespeare? Something a bit more modern?”
I snuggle back into the sofa, glad he’s turned off the primal looks. “Hit me with your best shot, poetry guy.”
“‘Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. ’”
Again, his words surprise me and although I wish I could laugh at him, there’s a strange earnestness in his face.
“Much Ado About Nothing?” I ask.
“There usually is.”
This time when his leg touches mine, he doesn’t move away, and I hold my breath. As I exhale, it’s as if I let out part of the barrier I have against Evan. He searches my face and I’m convinced he’s about to kiss me.
Movement on the stairs distracts us and my heart leaps into my mouth as I watch Matt and Abby go upstairs. Evan tips his head back to watch them go, then turns to me. I freeze, ready to move if he reaches out to me.
Shaking slightly, I take a drink from my bottle. “Have you known Matt long?”
Evan shakes his head. “Matt? That’s a deft change of subject.”
“I guess.”
“Did you think I was going to kiss you?”
“That’s an even defter change of subject.”
We’re close, almost touching, and the electricity hovers in the space between us ready to spark. Something in the warmth of him spreads towards me, and I fight down the attraction to him. I can’t breathe properly and I don’t like it; guys don’t normally have this effect on me. I close my eyes, dismissing the urge to kiss Evan.
“I’ve known Matt since I was four,” he says and I open my eyes.
His face is nowhere near mine. “A bit like me and Abby.”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you from?”
“Lancaster. Always. Since birth.”
“A relief to get away then?”
Evan picks at the label on his bottle. “Oh, yeah.” His words hold something, which flickers across his face, and he squeezes his eyes like he’s trying to forget something.
“Not far to go if you want to visit, I suppose.”
Evan tips his head at me. “Why don’t we talk about the weather?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making small talk.”
I frown at him. “Just trying to get to k
now you. That’s all.”
Evan sinks back into the cushions. “There’s not much to know. Lancaster was my childhood. My life starts now.”
Funny, because I know exactly what he means by those words. So many people our age I come across want to cling to their childish past. “You’ve got controlling parents too?”
“Parent.” He swigs his beer.
“Oh, is your dad not around?”
“My mum isn’t around.” He clamps his mouth shut and I think I’ve poked the wound I suspected. He sits forward again. “You going to get all Freudian on me now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know…me and all the girls. Mother issues. Not allowing a woman to love me. That bullshit.”
I don’t like the edge to his voice or the way he grips his bottle tighter. We’ve circled back round to the conversation in the restaurant. Whatever Evan thinks, I haven’t formed any view. I resist the temptation to point out to him that what he just said validates the interpretation he denies. “No, I’m not.”
Evan rubs his face. “Sorry, Vanessa.”
“Ness.”
He cocks a brow. “I’m allowed to call you Ness now? To what do I owe that honour?”
I smile at the break in tension. “Because I don’t think you’re the guy who was so rude to a week ago.”
“Really? What guy am I?”
Maybe I should kiss him. He’s obsessing over my mouth again. I can tell, so why not put my lips on his? The flickering tension between us grows and my heart thumps as I wait for his next move.
Evan’s phone buzzes; and as he pulls it from his pocket, his hand trembles slightly when he reads the screen.
“Fuck off,” he mutters and hits the screen, cancelling the call.
Evan shoves the phone away, but before I can say anything, it rings again. Evan’s mouth hardens as he cancels the call again. This happens twice more and his agitation increases. Talk about mood killer.
“Maybe just answer it?” I suggest.
“No.” He switches the phone off and sets it on the table.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, drinking beer. Next to me, Evan watches his phone as if it’s a grenade. The sexual tension between us shifts and I want to ask him if he’s okay. There go my concerns about Evan trying to get me into bed.
