by Lisa Swallow
My rear bumps onto the carpeted step, aware my own face has reddened. Evan smiles warmly; not his sexy grin, but a friendly smile although his eyes are less confident than usual.
“Hey, Ness.”
I offer a small smile in return, but I’m dizzied. Every minute of the night in bed with him tumbles through my mind on fast forward. Evan stands, hands buried in his pockets, blue jacket open, and I’m pissed off by how I’m drawn to him without his even trying.
“Did Abby say I asked you to call?” he asks.
“I did,” said Abby.
“Oh. Why didn’t you call? I wanted to catch up.”
“You could’ve called me. You have my number.” As I look at his face, memories of those lips on mine, and every part of me return, and my face grows hotter.
“I did try to contact you,” he said quietly, “but you didn’t answer.”
“Eventually. And by text.”
“Okay!” says Abby, “I think I’m going to finish getting ready to go out.” She sweeps upstairs and on the way past, whispers to me. “Be nice.”
I trudge downstairs, wishing I wasn’t makeup free and in mismatching clothes.
“How’s work?” he asks.
“Shit. How’s poetry class?”
“Missed a few lessons when I was away.”
“Yeah? Didn’t know there were classes at weekends.”
Evan perches on the arm of the sofa, steadying himself. “I was away longer than the weekend, Ness. I texted you when I got back.”
“Don’t they have mobile phone reception in Lancaster?”
Evan’s relaxed expression drops, as he blinks away whatever thought crossed his mind. The real Evan again. “It was a difficult time.”
Oh, crap. Maybe someone died. “But everything is okay now?”
“It’s not something I want to talk about.”
Hidden secrets. Broken boy? Not my problem.
“Anyway, you didn’t call and you wouldn’t reply to the texts I sent, so I thought I’d come over,” he continues.
“Why?”
Evan tips his head, hair falling to one side. “Why do people normally visit other people’s houses?”
“There are a number of reasons.” I head to the kitchen, away from his maddening, physical pull.
“I came to see you. To talk to you. And apologise.” Evan leans on the doorframe, mirroring the evening we first spoke. Although, he’s more upright than that first night.
“You don’t need to apologise.”
“I feel like a fucking cliché, Ness. I slept with you, arranged to meet you, and then sent you an ‘I’ll call you’ text.”
I take a ragged breath and flick the switch on the kettle. “Did you want a drink?”
“Good idea, we can go for a beer.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Ness…” I turn back round, aware my hands tremble slightly. Evan’s hands are tucked under his arms, folded across his chest. “I know. I’m asking you to come for a drink with me. To apologise.”
I consider his offer but he hasn’t offered to explain what happened. “I don’t feel like going out tonight. And not with you.”
He frowns, and I think it’s at himself and not me. “Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, how about I ask you on a date?”
I lean against the sink. “A date? Really? You’re not very good at keeping dates.”
“I’m sorry. I fucked up. But I want to get to know you. I told you that before. We just got…interrupted.”
He’s sucking me in again and not by choosing to flash his sexy smile at me, but by his openness.
“I don’t know…”
My resolve wavers as he steps towards me. “Please, Ness. At least let me apologise for hurting you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I snap. “I knew what I was doing.”
“Fine.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “But you’ll come out with me tomorrow night?”
“I’m working tomorrow night.”
“No problem, I’ll pick you up around ten tomorrow morning instead. See you then.” Before I have a chance to protest, Evan walks away. Shocked by his sudden departure, I watch as the front door closes behind him
What is his deal? As I wait for the water to boil, I fight with myself, annoyed at how pleased I am he came over.
18
EVAN
Why can’t I keep away from Ness since I returned from Lancaster? Doing the love them and leave them thing has never bothered me. Not once, because I don’t do guilt. The longer I waited for Ness to respond to my messages, the more apparent it became she wasn’t going to. I’m not used to this situation either. Normally, girls get on my back if we’ve gone as far as sex. Why didn’t she want more from me? Ironically, the first time I want a girl to, she doesn’t pursue me.
I saw Abby, who was clueless what’d happened between me and Ness, but still gave me a hard time, and the guilt over hurting Ness caught up with me. Ness was close, sitting in her car, but I wasn’t brave enough to approach. I hate confrontations, and crying girls. But after seeing them both, everything tumbled back—all the feel-good memories from being with Ness. So I gave in, decided to apologise, and see what happened.
The reunion didn’t go as planned; Ness’s barriers were topped by barbed wire this time. I can’t blame her, but I’m willing to risk the scratches and attempt to climb over them. Why? I have no real idea.
When I knock on Ness’s door at 10 a.m. the next morning, Ness answers dressed in jeans and a baggy jumper. She’s wearing lip-gloss, and her shiny lips draw memories of kissing them. That evening was several weeks ago, but a lifetime away with what’s happened in my life in between.
“Where are we going?” she asks as we head to my car.
“I made a picnic.”
“Picnic?” Ness looks at me as if I’d told her we’re going to spend the day running naked through the streets.
“Sitting, eating food. Why, does picnic mean something else in the south of England?”
“No, I just wouldn’t associate you with picnics.” She glances at the clouds. “And it’s November.”
Ness opens the car door and climbs in, wrinkling her nose. The same greasy odour assaults me too. I really need to clean my car; the fast food wrappers are taking over.
“I hope that’s not the picnic I can smell,” she says.
And smiles at me.
A Ness smile to burn through the overcast November day and blow away some of the crap from the previous weeks. Not giving up on her is the right decision.
* * *
NESS
The patchwork Pennines in the distance make a welcome change from the brick and concrete views of the city. The move from Surrey to Leeds jarred, as I swapped my green countryside life for urban sprawl, and I took a while to adjust. Driving out of Leeds is like taking a lungful of fresh air and the suburbs grow smaller the further out of the city we travel, until we hit the motorway.
I eye the road signs as we pass. “You’re not taking me to Lancaster, I hope?”
Evan grips the wheel tighter. “Definitely not.”
“I get the feeling you really hate the place.”
“Yeah.”
A muscle twitches in his cheek. I want to ask why he went back, but understand Evan’s closed the book on his old life as much as he can. His reluctance to engage with the past is the same as mine; why did he go back?
My parents wanted to visit me and I refused because despite leaving on okay terms, I don’t want them entering into my new life. Plus, I don’t want to break the news to Mum I’ll be leaving the country for a few months, further away from her than I ever have.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
“There’s a town I like. A world away from Leeds, but only a short drive.”
Evan’s car seat isn’t comfortable; springs are close to the surface under the fabric and after an hour, I shift around uncomfortably. Our conversation
dries up within half an hour, acknowledging we barely know each other despite the time we spent together. I bite the inside of my mouth as the realisation I slept with a guy I hardly know hits again. Some of my grabs at independence aren’t well thought out. I’m unsure if I can talk to Evan without my snarky defence system; the words just come out that way with people I don’t trust. I’m a little less pissed off with Evan now, but I don’t trust his motives.
Gradually the road begins to wind through the hilly countryside, lined by winter trees. We arrive in a beautiful mill town and stop by a park near the canal, which cuts through the centre of the stone buildings. I look up at the hills and stone walls crisscrossing the fields above us.
“It’s so quiet,” I say as Evan pulls a rucksack from the car boot. “Amazing views.”
Evan hitches the bag over his shoulder and grabs my hand; cool fingers encircle mine and my stomach lurches. I look down at his large hand around mine, arm stiffening.
“Can I hold your hand?”
I don’t reply and I don’t pull my hand away. We’re past handholding after what we did a couple of weeks ago.
Evan and I wander silently along the towpath, where a long barge is wedged in the lock, and water gushes in to move the boat down. We lean over the gate and watch, waving at the excited children on their boat trip. As the barge settles onto the canal below, I continue along the towpath with Evan.
Evan’s choice of picnic spot is a wooden bench table beneath a tree. For once, the winter day is sunny, taking the edge off the biting breeze. I’m impressed by Evan’s collection of picnic food: sandwiches, salads, and cream cakes bought from the local bakers, still tucked into their paper bags. He sets out two cups and a large bottle of orange juice with his long fingers. All the while, I study him. He has a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, his long hair touching the edge. Evan’s cheeks are pink from the cold and there’s a natural happiness in his face; as if the weight of whatever follows him has gone for today. Have I underestimated Evan?
“You’re good at this,” I say.
“At what?”
“Picnics. Most guys wouldn’t have any idea what to do. We’d share a bag of crisps and a can of coke.”
His eyebrows dip. “I’ve always liked picnics. I just copy what we used to do when I was a kid.”
“We never really did the whole picnic thing.”
“Then we’ll have to go on plenty to make up for it.”
He passes me a sandwich and the connotation of his words comes with the bread. More time together.
“Thanks,” he says, picking up a sandwich of his own.
“For?”
“Agreeing to come out with me. I didn’t want you to think I was one of those guys.”
“I knew what sort of guy you were when I chose to do it, Evan.”
Evan meets my eyes and my neck prickles under his serious-eyed scrutiny. “Did someone hurt you in the past? You have a low opinion of me. Of guys.”
“No more than usual teen break ups. Anything like that hurts.” I pause. “Being used hurts.”
“Maybe part of growing up involves accepting that people make mistakes, and life is more complicated.”
“That’s very deep.”
“Perhaps I should transfer to psych.” The glance we exchange shows again Evan’s weird ability to remember past conversations. “What I mean, Ness, is we’re all finding our way and sometimes we get lost.”
“So you were lost the day you never called me back?”
Evan pours juice into two cups and drinks from one. “Yeah, like I said, I fucked up when I didn’t call you, so I guess I was. But I’m glad you let me find you again.”
The night I met Evan in the kitchen, the chances of spending time having an intelligent conversation with him were zero. When he didn’t call after I slept with him, I was convinced I was no more than a notch on his bedpost, and that I was a challenge Evan had won for his own amusement. But Evan’s reaching out to and connecting with me, and his brown eyes clear. Why? All relationships are inexplicable, every person we meet fated; but where fate leads, I don’t know. Can I follow or should I stop this before I’m hurt again?
“Are you saying you want to get to know me?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Will you let me get to know you?”
Evan shifts in his seat and focuses on his food. “I guess. If you want to.”
I place a gloved hand on Evan’s. “It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.”
He looks up at me. “Poetry?”
“No, probably read it on a Facebook status. But it sounds good, hey?”
We share a laugh and Evan curls his hand around mine, squeezing. “Yeah, sounds good.”
At the end of the afternoon, we walk back to the car. I don’t want to leave this beautiful town. The idea of a looming evening working at my battery farm is unappealing. A day chatting with Evan crystallised the reality I hide from. I’m isolating myself by making the wrong choices and refusing to admit them. Lack of interaction at work and life on the edge of Abby’s world has pulled me into myself. Evan’s pulling me out.
“Ness.”
Evan lets go of my hand as we approach the car and stops.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning to him.
He reaches a hand out and strokes my cheek. My breath catches as Evan pulls me towards him and bends his head, placing lips briefly on mine before pulling away again.
“You are an amazing person,” he says.
“You hardly know me.” One touch of his lips and my heart rate has doubled, the desire for him flaring again.
“I wish I had your strength, to turn away, and keep away from things that hurt you.”
I suddenly see a little boy with pain in his eyes. From the start he’s allowed me to see the hidden Evan, as if he wants to reveal himself to somebody. There’s a rawness to the emotion in his face and voice, which winds around my heart and pulls me into his life.
Through the day, Evan has chipped at my guard against him, and I shiver against not only his touch, but the sensation of his soul somehow touching mine too. I place my lips against Evan’s and taste the sweet orange juice as we kiss. He presses me against the car, hard thighs against mine as our bodies align. There’s no space between us, and my head spins again as Evan’s kiss ties me to him as readily as his hands hold my hair.
Evan pulls his head back and strokes my eyebrow with his thumb. “I like kissing you.”
“I have to admit, I like when you kiss me.”
He cups my cheeks in his hands, his dark brown eyes searching mine. “That night together, it was never just another night with another girl. I wanted it to be the first of many mornings I woke up with you in my arms. Can we start again?”
I don’t reply, instead burrowing my face into Evan’s jacket to consider his words. Maybe it’s worth taking a second chance on the guy who fills me with butterflies.
19
EVAN
I’ve had a week with Ness, of waking and wanting to be with her, even when I only saw Ness hours ago. Our one day away from our everyday lives extends into more, and every moment I spend with Ness cements me to her. Ness wants to be with me but doesn’t demand anything. The week we’ve spent together feels like a month, and each day we open up and discover more new things about each other, tiny connections we never realised we had. Other times we’re able to say nothing and just be.
Lucy fades into the background, but she doesn’t stay there. As if psychically knowing I’m giving my time to someone else, her calls start again. Sometimes I forget to switch my phone off when I’m with Ness; I wish I could tell her who calls, and wipe away the suspicion flickering across her face each time I ignore the calls. Lucy is the last part of my life I ever want Ness to know about, but I know I can’t hide forever if I want Ness in mine.
While Ness changes to go out for the evening, I wait on the sofa. Memories of the night of sex with her have replayed so much in my he
ad that I’ve worn them out. And the images always have the same effect on my dick. I push away the thoughts; greeting her with an erection would not get the evening off to a good start. Sex is off the agenda currently, understandably. Frustratingly. If Ness pulls away when we kiss, I stop and don’t even try to go there. I think I’ve blown any chance of getting Ness into bed for a while. So I hold and kiss her as much as I can; that way I can take memories of the softness of her lips and warmth of her skin home with me. But when I lie alone in bed at night, it’s recollections of the sensation of her breasts brushing my chest or my hand’s touch on her beautiful body, which obsess me.
Ness is in an odd mood today, back to sarcasm, and I have no idea why when we’d dropped that. I hope it’s time of the month stuff and not something I’ve inadvertently done. You can’t always tell with chicks. Girls.
When we arrive at the pub, Ness is quiet. I deliberately lead her to the table we usually sit at, on the same red vinyl bench, at the same beer stained wooden table, and hold her hand. Maybe if I show her we have our special spot we sit in, she might warm to me more. Girls like that stuff.
I try to read Ness, but it’s tough. Like she’s pissed off with me about something, but why come out tonight if she doesn’t want to be around me? Ness doesn’t take her coat off and she keeps pushing hair out of her face, irritated when it falls back in. I lean over and smooth Ness’s fringe back.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, Evan,” she blurts.
“Oh?”
“I’m thinking of leaving.”
Her words slam me in the chest, more readily than they should. A week together, get a grip. But what the hell did I do? “Leaving?”
“Yes, saving up and travelling.” I think she catches the confusion in my eyes. “I planned this before. Before us. I mean, before this.”
