by Mimi Flood
I gave Devon a smile, thanking him without saying a word. He smiled back and nodded subtly in return.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My mom and I had managed to remain civil enough to make it through supper and dessert. While she and Marie cleared the table, Roger and my dad sipped their coffees and chatted about hockey. I fiddled with my napkin, my conversation with Devon and Valerie having shrivelled down to nothing.
“Want to go for a walk?” Valerie eventually suggested to Devon and me.
Though the thought of prolonging my time with Devon didn’t seem like a good idea, the idea of a stroll appealed to me greatly, especially when the counteroffer involved talking sports with my dad or even getting stuck doing dishes with my mother.
We left the house and walked down toward the lake. I was struck by memories of nightly walks I had shared with my grandmother when I was younger.
We would walk, arm in arm, and I would share every little problem I was having. I now knew my minuscule problems were probably laughable at the time but she had always acted as if I was facing the most life-altering events. She would offer up the best advice and, from matters of the heart and petty fights with friends, she never once made me feel like what I was dealing with wasn’t important. From an early age, my grandmother had been one of my best friends and until this very moment, I hadn’t truly realized how much I was going to miss her and I could feel the depths of my grief opening up.
Tonight, however, instead of some deep, meaningful conversation, I was stuck with Valerie who was rambling about everything and anything—from the latest on Twitter to her hopes of finding Mister Right.
I nodded and pretended to be listening, but was more curious about Devon, who was slowly and quietly walking beside me, looking uninterested in our conversation. Slightly bored with whatever topic Valerie was discussing, I stopped in my steps.
“I was curious,” I interrupted. “How come your parents didn’t come tonight? I would have loved to talk to them about what they’ve done to the house. It’s stunning.”
Valerie froze, her eyes suddenly filled with sadness.
“You know? I’m a bit cold,” Valerie said, wrapping her arms around herself. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to head home.” Without any other words, she turned and walked away.
“What did I say?” I looked at Devon, seeking some explanation.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” Devon explained. He started to walk again as he spoke—an open invitation for me to follow. “ I guess you didn’t know. Our parents died a few years ago. Car crash.”
It was said so matter-of-factly, I wasn’t entirely sure I had heard right.
“Devon, I am so sorry,” I said, feeling the inadequacy of my words. “I had no idea.” I reached for him, placing my hand on his arm in some kind of sympathetic gesture.
He nodded and told me how it had happened.
On a regular Friday night, his parents, who had gone out to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary, had been struck by a drunk driver. I couldn’t help but notice that while he told me about this horrible time in his life, he appeared to be at peace with his loss. “I moved back home after it happened, Valerie was a complete mess. She needed to move out, but I figured I would use the money they left to fix up the house—make it how they would have liked it to be had they had the chance.”
“That’s amazing, Devon. I’m not sure I would have done the same.” I knew more than definitely that I wouldn’t put any effort into my parents’ home if I were ever in that kind of situation. “I’m sure they would be incredibly proud of the work you’ve done.”
He smiled at me and shrugged. “That’s the thing about death, especially when it comes out of nowhere. You really have no clue how you’ll react. Not until you’re in it.”
“I suppose not. But then again, I’m pretty sure I’d just sell their house and move on.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” he said, creasing his brow. “It’s their home, their life. Would you be that thoughtless?”
“Thoughtless?” I replied, stunned that he suddenly seemed so judgemental. “Not everyone has a great relationship with their parents.” My tone was a little more defensive than I had intended but his look and the way he had spoken to me had rubbed me the wrong way. “You’re lucky that you loved your parents so much and that you wanted to honour their memory. I wish I could feel the same.”
“Why do you hate your parents?”
“I don’t hate them,” I nearly shouted. I didn’t like the direction our conversation was headed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” he said. “After what I saw tonight, you don’t seem to be in the best of places with your mom, that’s for sure.”
Where was he going with this?
I didn’t want to get into the deficiencies of my relationship with my parents and especially not with him—a man I barely knew.
“Can we just drop this, please?” I walked ahead of him, annoyed.
“Absolutely.” His expression made it seem as if he was enjoying arguing with me. “But really, if you ever want to talk to someone, I’m here.”
Before I had any time to react to his proposition, which felt like more than just a friendly offer to chat, we had reached the summit of the hill. Nestled between a large cluster of apple trees, we found ourselves in a small clearing of a few square feet wide. I looked around, puzzled. Throughout my countless walks through these orchards, not once had I ever been to this place.
“Why aren’t there any trees here?” I asked, bewildered by the random bareness surrounding us.
“No idea. Trees have never grown here,” Devon explained, pointing toward the lake. “But it’s nature’s best seat in the house, that’s for sure.”
I followed his eye line and understood what he meant. From our vantage point, we had an undisturbed view all the way to the lake.
“On nights like this, I come here and I can just sit for hours. There is something appealing about it. It’s like I’m hidden from everything.”
The night was incredibly clear and crisp, the moon’s reflection bouncing off the still waters below. The best part about this spot, at least in my mind, was the privacy it allowed. Though we could see everything, the angle of it made it so that no one else could see us. Tucked into its little nook it was the perfect hiding place. I couldn’t understand how I had never stumbled on it before. I certainly would have found it magical as a child.
Devon sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees, inviting me to sit with him, which I did. Unsure of what to say, I remained quiet and took in the view. With a deep breath, I was able to relax a little, the beauty of the location seeping into my core. I had virtually forgotten about our little spat if I could even call it that.
“Look,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’m sorry about before.”
I nodded, a little surprised by his apology.
“It’s alright. It’s just complicated for me and my parents. I’m not sure what I would do in that situation.”
“I’m not sorry about that,” he said, interrupting. I looked at him, unsure what he meant until it came rushing back to me. He was talking about seeing him naked. I cringed at how quickly I had forgotten. “I was talking about this afternoon, you on the lake.”
“Oh, that,” I said, thankful he couldn’t see my face in the darkness. “So, you could see me?”
He gave me a small nod. I could see a grin forming at the corner of his mouth.
“Do you usually do that sort of thing? Walk around naked?” The picture of his body popped into my head, again.
He laughed. It was such a delightful, melodic sound. “Actually, I do.”
I was stunned by his candour. “Why don’t you get curtains?”
“Why would I want to deprive people of this?” He indicated his body, but it was clear he was joking around. He didn’t seem serious or come off as vain, so it made me laugh. “Besides, I’m more concerned with people feeling the need to
look than what is or isn’t covering my window.”
He turned to face me now, his eyebrows arched.
“It wasn’t like that. You were there when I looked up and, well, I don’t know.” I stuttered, words failing me.
Did he really think I had intentionally looked through his window?
“Relax,” he said, stroking my arm and laughing softly. “I’m only messing with you.”
We both laughed then, my laughter sounding nervous. The feeling of release it gave me, along with the simplicity of sitting next to Devon, made me feel more relaxed than I had been all day. I didn’t know what it was about him, but something about him filled me with a feeling of calm just like his sister had done. Maybe it was in their genes. Whatever it was, I felt as if the tension had broken between the two of us and leaning back, I gazed up at the sky. I could feel his eyes on me.
“Elle, can I ask you a question?” he whispered.
The sound of his voice and the way my name seemed to roll off his tongue gave me chills and a warm feeling deep in my stomach. Maybe it was due to the deep, sultriness of his voice but I found I really enjoyed the sound of my name when he said it. I realized then that, strangely, no one had ever called me Elle before. I had always been Ellie or Elizabeth or my least favourite, Lizzie, a particular favourite of Paul’s. Now, I found that I really loved Devon’s choice.
“Sure,” I replied. “As long as it’s not about you being an exhibitionist, then I’m all ears.”
“An exhibitionist?” he laughed. “No, that’s not what I was going to ask.” I wasn’t sure but it felt like he’d moved closer to me. “I wanted to know if you were this cute in high school?”
I looked at him to see if he was joking again. His face wasn’t showing any signs of kidding around. I laughed it off.
“Very funny.”
“I’m dead serious.” Then, his hand found its way to my knee, his thumb gently caressing it. He had definitely moved closer. “I don’t remember you being this sexy and I’m wondering how I could have missed it.”
His touch was making me tingle all over. My throat went dry. I started to think of all the times I had wanted to approach him but had been too afraid to. I remembered all the times he had walked right past me in the school hallways, not even acknowledging my existence.
As much as I wanted to say these things to him now, instead all I could manage was, “Are you fucking with me?”
“No, I’m not fucking with you,” he grinned devilishly as he repeated my words back to me. I met his gaze. Even in the moonlight, I could see the green of his eyes, calling out something deep within me. I felt the blood surging beneath my skin as his hand ran up my thigh.
I froze, uncertain what to do. Should I let this continue?
I had to admit the setting was more than perfect and the images of what I had seen earlier that day made it incredibly difficult to not want to see more up close. Yet, as he started to lean in for a kiss, my pesky inner voice told me it wasn’t a good idea. No, not because of what might still be lingering between Paul and me, but rather because I didn’t know Devon. Sure, he had been the leading man in many of my fantasies as a teenager, and yes, he did have the most heavenly body I had seen outside of a magazine, but still, I didn’t know what kind of person he had become. And I wasn’t the kind of person who would sleep with someone she barely knew, no matter how insanely gorgeous he was.
“Devon...” I said, looking down, tearing my eyes away from his. His face was so close to mine, but he stopped. “Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind and this—,”
“—Don’t apologize. I understand,” he interrupted, letting out a heavy sigh and pulled away.
His sudden distance from me made me aware of the chill in the night’s air. I sat back up and rubbed my hands together for warmth.
“You know, there is a good way for us to keep warm,” he said, nudging my shoulder with his. I knew he was kidding again. “Want me to walk you home?”
I was cold and wouldn’t have minded being indoors, but I was also slightly disappointed that he wanted to cut our evening short. Then again, maybe I had been right to stop him from making a move. Maybe that was all he wanted from me, in which case it was all the more reason to keep things platonic.
“I guess,” I answered, reluctantly taking his outreached hand.
The walk back wasn’t a very long one, but with neither one of us speaking, it seemed like miles. Reaching the bottom steps that led to the house, we both paused awkwardly. Everything now felt like a first date.
What exactly had just happened?
I started to question my reluctance to kissing him.
“Goodnight, Elle,” Devon said quietly, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. The warmth of his lips on my cold skin made my knees weak. “Sweet dreams.”
With his mouth lingering ever so close to my ear, all the reservations I had just moments ago flew away with the breeze. I wanted to take back my stupid words and tell him I was more than willing to let him make my fantasies come true. I was even willing to take him to my bedroom and have my way with him right then and there. Had I not been staying under the same roof as my parents, I just might have.
Instead, finding some inhuman resolve buried deep within me, I wished him a good night and watched him walk away. I saw him disappear into the shadows and sighed, feeling melancholic. I couldn’t understand why I now felt so downhearted. How had I gone from breaking up with Paul, sick of men in general, to not wanting to do anything but follow Devon home and do unspeakable things to him? Someone I barely even knew, I reminded myself. Chalking it up to the unrequited crush I had never quite gotten over in high school, I shook off how I felt and dragged myself into the house.
Stepping inside, it felt warm and the smell of tonight’s dinner still lingered. I could hear my parents and their guests in the living room, sounding a little tipsy, which was great for me as it gave me the chance to sneak by unnoticed.
I went upstairs to my bedroom, put on my pyjamas and got into bed. It was early, not yet ten o’clock, but I felt surprisingly tired and drained. I quickly drifted off to sleep.
Unfortunately, an uneasy slumber awaited me yet again. However, instead of haunting nightmares, this time I found myself dreaming of Devon wearing very little clothing if any at all. And every single time, I woke up in a sweat, my heart racing and my body screaming for more.
Friday, April 21st
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Elizabeth, wake up!” my mother yelled, abruptly jerking me out of my sleep. I shifted in bed and realized that last night’s events had led me to forget to set my alarm. Shaking off the rather erotic dream I had just had featuring a certain copper-haired neighbour, I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
Hurriedly, I got dressed and ready. At first, I decided to forego any makeup but as I was leaving the room, I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought otherwise. My hair was dishevelled but the waves gave me a messy yet cute look I could tolerate. Quickly, I applied some foundation and a touch of lipstick. It wasn’t much but it was enough considering the small possibility of bumping into Devon again.
My mother was frantic; gathering things, cleaning up what must have been breakfast. Noticing that she had left nothing for me, I poured a cup of coffee from what was leftover in the pot. The percolator had recently been turned off, I noticed.
“Mom, do I really need to go with you today?” I asked, putting my cup in the microwave to reheat.
We were headed to the reading of my grandmother’s will and I didn’t see the point of hearing her dying wishes. I knew too well who would get what, and I assumed I would be closer to the end of the list, the happy recipient of some old knick-knacks or possibly some jewelry I would never wear. Above all that, though, I didn’t feel like being reminded just yet of everything my grandmother had left behind.
My mother stopped in her steps, looking at me with such displeasure I immediately wished I could take the words back.
“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” I apologized, taking my coffee and a muffin out to the veranda.
Clearly, she was still in the same mood as the previous evening and I really didn’t feel up to sparring with her.
“We leave in five minutes,” she added, as I walked away.
It was quite warm out, the sun very bright, and hardly a cloud in the sky. Compared to the previous night, it felt like a completely different season. The coffee was far too weak for my liking, not nearly bold enough to get rid of the drowsiness still lingering, but I drank it just the same.
Rubbing my eyes, I found I was unable to stop myself from glancing to my right, to Devon’s house. Through the trees, I could just see enough of his house. I was hoping for something, but for what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe for a glimpse of him on his deck, standing in the sunlight, sipping his coffee, looking as confused as I was? Whatever it was—and I was sure it could be blamed on my dreams the previous night—I felt that I desperately wanted to see him again.
I started hoping that maybe I would accidentally bump into him later on that day, but then started to panic when I thought about what I would even say or do if I did? Making the first move had never been my forte. But before that, before even contemplating how I would approach him, I had to remind myself that there was no point. I had to pull myself back to the present and the issue at hand. I wasn’t here for him or to start anything. I was here for my grandmother. And no matter how enticing the idea of being with Devon was, I had to leave what had happened the previous night behind me. I had to acknowledge the way I was feeling for what it was: a crush, pure and simple. And as most of my crushes had done in the past, this one would eventually fade as well.
My mother knocked on the window and gestured to her watch. It was time to get this done and over with. I finished my muffin, swallowing down the last, dry mouthful with coffee, and brushed the crumbs off my lap. I would be heading back home in a day or two, leaving all this behind. Going back to my routine, my job, my friends, and to whatever else my life was made up of. Why was I pining for someone I would more than likely never see again?
