About That Night

by Natalie Ward

  Finally seeing her again though, as she’d walked out into the early morning, definitely made the lack of sleep worth it.

  I look around her room, not wanting to snoop but just find out a little bit more about her. It’s a big room, dominated by a large queen bed that backs up to the window. The window’s ledge is lined with books and mugs and a couple of other things, and it’s only then that I notice just how much shit she has lying around everywhere.

  I never pictured she’d be this much of a slob.

  To the left of the bed, a large chair that could easily fit two people is covered in clothes, including the black dress she was wearing a week ago. I swallow hard at the memory of the way she looked in it, forcing my eyes to continue their path, back towards the bed and the side tables, to the desk that sits in the other corner. It’s covered in notes and textbooks. Names like Grey’s Anatomy, Clinical Diagnosis and Genetics etched on their spines, different coloured post-its marking various pages.

  I walk towards the desk, thumb through the pages that show diagrams and pathways, mechanisms of living that I don’t really understand. It impresses me that she knows all this stuff, blows my mind how smart she is. I could tell the second she spoke to me that night, long before I ever knew she was a doctor. There was just something about her that set her apart from every other girl that walked in and sat at my bar.

  The memory makes me smile.

  I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the back of her desk chair, sliding off my boots as my eyes rove over the corkboard that’s propped against the wall behind the desk. I expect it to be covered with notes, but it’s not. Instead there are photos all over it, ranging from when Emma was younger, right up to present day.

  I lean in, taking a closer look and that’s when I notice the change. She might be smiling in each one, surrounded by friends both socially and at work, but it’s her eyes that are different.

  In the younger pictures, they are bright, the smile on her mouth reaching her eyes. In the more recent ones though, that light is gone, replaced with something that I remember seeing in Amy’s eyes towards the end.

  Loss, misery, as though there is no life left anymore.

  It breaks my heart to think Emma is truly this unhappy. Makes me want to do something about it, change things for her because I know how painful it is to watch someone give up.

  Just as I start to move away, I see something else, pinned to the lower corner of the board as though she isn’t quite sure she wants to see it, but isn’t ready to throw it out either.

  The napkin from last week.

  I immediately reach for it, unpinning the paper as I step backwards and sit on the end of her bed. I swing my legs up, settling back against the window ledge as I read through the list I wrote; all of the pros and cons. There’s an asterisk now, next to one of the entries: getting to be happy*.

  It makes me smile, my eyes closing as I remember back to writing it, the way my heart was pounding in my chest at the time because not only did I barely know this woman, but I also had no idea how she’d react to my words.

  And while things hadn’t exactly turned out great that night, they were definitely looking up now.

  Well, if she ever gets out of the shower, that is.

  ~ Emma

  I take my time in the shower, stalling because I’m not sure what’s going to happen when I walk out, not sure what he expects.

  I don’t even know what I want or expect, I honestly never thought I’d see him again and now I think about it, I wonder how exactly it is that he found me.

  I finally turn the water off and step out. I take my time getting dried, tying back my hair, applying moisturiser and getting dressed in old pair of leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

  Eventually I can’t stall any longer. He’s either going to wonder if I’ve somehow drowned in here or he’s going to have given up and just left. So taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and finally walk back into my bedroom.

  And he’s asleep.

  He’s actually fallen asleep…on my bed. I glance around and see his jacket hanging on my chair, his shoes beside it and Nick lying back on my bed sound asleep.

  What the hell do I do now?

  I stop and look around the room, as though I’m expecting it to offer up some answers. Should I wake him so we can continue talking? Should I wake him in case he wants to go home?

  Or should I do what I know I need to do and lie down beside him and go to sleep myself? I have no idea what to do, whether he’ll read too much into that if he happens to wake up and find me sleeping beside him?

  God, why am I so bad at this?

  I stall a little more, walking out to the kitchen to grab some water. I’m not exactly quiet, half hoping he wakes up and solves the problem for me. But by the time I walk back in, he’s still sound asleep, his hands resting on his stomach, his legs crossed at the ankles and his head resting on the pillow.

  “Shit,” I mumble, walking towards my bed. I really need to get some sleep and at this stage, I’m not even sure I have the energy to wake him up. So, as carefully as I can, I set my glass down on the side table and slide into bed, pulling the duvet to my chin as I roll onto my side so I’m facing away from him.

  I let out a long slow breath as I close my eyes and force my brain to forget about the man sleeping beside me and focus on getting the sleep I so badly need; a part of me wondering what the hell happens when we eventually wake up.

  ~ Nick

  My eyes open and I find myself in a strange room, the sun streaming in through a window behind me. It’s low enough in the sky to tell me it’s the afternoon and as my head instinctively turns on the pillow, I see a clock I don’t recognise that tells me it’s after three o’clock.

  Shit.

  I glance at the bed beside me, suddenly remembering where I am, only to discover it’s empty. My hand slides across, the faintest hint of warmth still lingering on the pillow. I close my eyes as I try to remember exactly when I fell asleep. The last thing I remember is her walking into the bathroom and me trying to distract myself with anything that stopped me from thinking about her naked on the other side of the door.

  Was I awake when she came out? I can’t actually remember it happening.

  Which can only mean I wasn’t, which also means I’m a fucking idiot. I mean what kind of guy tracks down a woman, only to fall asleep on her as soon as he gets the chance to finally talk to her.

  “Jesus, Nick,” I mumble, scrubbing a hand down my face.

  I should get up, at least find out where she is and if I can possibly salvage any of this. Just as I sit up, the bedroom door opens and Emma walks in, trying to balance a plate on top of a mug in one hand, while she holds another mug in the other. I slide my legs off the bed, just as she looks at me and says, “I’ve got it.”

  Instead, I slide up the bed so I’m sitting, watch as she puts one of the mugs on the side table beside me before walking around to the other side and climbing back onto the bed. She sits facing me, her legs crossed beneath her as she puts a plate of what looks like semi reheated pizza between us.

  “Breakfast,” she says, gesturing to the plate. “Or lunch.”

  I laugh, grabbing a slice. “Thanks.”

  She nods, saying nothing more and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was still nervous.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” I say, finishing off my slice. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

  Emma coughs, dropping her slice as she reaches for her coffee. I lean over, as if I can help, but she shakes her head at me. Eventually, she looks up, her cheeks flushed, but from what exactly, I can’t tell. “You were tired,” she says, shrugging as though it’s no big deal. “I get it.”

  I watch her, wait until she meets my gaze. “Did you sleep?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  We sit in silence now, a weird kind of awkwardness surrounding us. I really need to get going, but this is not how I want to leave things. This isn’t anywhere near how I intended f
or things to go at all. I mean, I never expected to end up in her bed like this, but I sure as shit didn’t think I’d fall asleep if I did. But that’s what happened and the question is, what the hell do I do now?

  “Are you working tonight?” she suddenly asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, I only close the bar Mondays and Tuesdays, so one more night. You?”

  Emma shakes her head. “Two days off now before back to day shift on Wednesday.”

  I nod, wondering how she does it. At least with me, I know what my hours will be. They might be shit at times but at least I can plan around them. With her, it seems like she moves between days and nights regularly and without any kind of real break or acclimation in between. Add to that the weekends and on call stuff she must do and it’s no wonder she feels like her life is nothing but work.

  “What time do you have to be there?” she asks, eyes on the plate.

  I glance at the clock again. Half an hour ago if I’m being honest. “Soon,” I tell her instead.

  She nods again, still not looking at me. “Do you stay open late on Sundays?”

  I reach for another slice as I stare at her, wondering why she’s asking me this. She’s still not looking at me, but I can see the faintest hint of red on her cheeks and the tiniest glimmer of hope sparks up in my chest. I shrug, as I casually try to say, “Eleven-ish, midnight maybe.”

  Emma nods, but says nothing more. I’m not sure if I’m imagining things or if maybe she’s just chickened out, but I can’t help but feel she was about to ask me something.

  “You could come by,” I suggest, not wanting to lose the opportunity. If she’s not going to say it, I will. “Keep me company?”

  Emma stares at me, not saying anything. I get the feeling she’s wondering what the hell I’m doing. Either that or she’s trying to read my mind and work it out for herself. I say nothing now, just stare back, willing her to say yes. I watch as she bites her bottom lip, a sign I now know means she’s thinking about it, trying to decide her next move.

  “Won’t you be busy?” she finally asks.

  I shake my head once, feeling the opportunity get closer. “Nothing like last time,” I say, smiling. “Might even be able to close early if it’s really bad.”

  “I…” she starts, stopping almost immediately.

  We stare at each other now, neither of us saying anything. I’m silently begging her to agree, if only so it means I’ll get to see her again and this won’t be over before it’s even had a chance to really get started.

  I watch as she eventually takes a deep breath, as though fortifying herself. “Or,” she says. “You could come back here when you’re done?”

  And fuck me if that isn’t a totally better option.

  I leave before she has a chance to change her mind. In any case, I’m so fucking late and as much as I might want to stay, I know I have to go. It’s tempting to say fuck it and just not open the bar tonight, but I can’t do that. I have staff and responsibilities and this is half the reason I wanted my own bar in the first place.

  Tony’s already set up by the time I arrive, glancing up at me as I race inside. “Sorry, sorry,” I say, shooting him an apologetic look. He grins at me, opening his mouth to no doubt make some kind of smart arsed remark, but I don’t give him a chance. “I gotta run up to my apartment quickly,” I say, already halfway back out. “I’ll be back in a sec.” And then I race upstairs to feed Oscar.

  By the time I get back downstairs, Tony is leaning against the bar, arms crossed against his chest and with a huge grin on his face. No sooner am I inside does he say, “So, do I take this tardiness to mean your plan worked?”

  I nod, but say nothing, almost regretting telling him so much last night as we closed up the bar.

  “What, that’s it?” he asks, pushing off the bar. “That’s all you’re gonna give me?”

  “Yep,” I say, glancing at him.

  “No fucking way,” he says. “You gotta spill, dude, seriously.”

  I grin now unable to stop it as I shake my head. “No, I don’t. But you are doing the lock-up tonight.”

  Tony laughs, shaking his head as he walks over to the door, unlocks it and flips the sign.

  Of course the night drags and the longer I’m here, the more I worry that she’s going to change her mind about me coming over. By ten, Tony walks over and says, “Just fucking go already. I’ll finish up here.” I open my mouth to ask if he’s sure, but he points to the exit and says, “Go.”

  I nod once, before heading to the door. When I reach it, I hear Tony yell out, “And don’t fuck it up this time!”

  I turn and glare at him, only to have him laugh at me before I shake my head and walk out, not even bothering to change my clothes again before I head back to Emma’s apartment, hopeful that she’s still okay with me coming over.

  It crosses my mind that I should bring something, a bottle of wine maybe, but I don’t want to be too over the top about it all. Just because she’s asked me over, doesn’t mean things are necessarily going to happen.

  Even if deep down it’s what I want.

  But I really don’t want to give her the impression that that’s all I’m after here either. Because as much as I might want her, it’s not just about wanting her.

  By the time I reach her apartment, I’m nervous as fucking hell, my mind racing through all the possible scenarios of what could happen when I go upstairs. The things I want, the things I’ve dreamed about all week and the things I picture myself doing given half a chance. I try to convince myself that this is what she wants too, that she invited me back here, twice, so she must.

  More than anything though, I try to convince myself that it’s okay for me to want this with her even when I know I really shouldn’t. When I swore I’d never go down this path again.

  I see my finger shaking as I reach out to press the buzzer for her place.

  “Hello,” comes her voice, almost immediately.

  I fight the smile, even though she can’t see me. “Hey, it’s Nick,” I answer, as though she has a never-ending line of guys showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night.

  The buzzer sounds and the door clicks, letting me into the foyer. I take the lift in silence, staring up at the numbers again like I did some twelve hours ago. By the time I reach her floor, my heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to burst right through it.

  But she’s not waiting for me at the front door; instead it’s slightly ajar, as though waiting for me to enter. I do, locking it behind me. The apartment is silent, almost in darkness. The only light comes from her room, the door to which is also open. I force myself to take a deep breath as I take off my jacket and walk towards her room, trying to look casual. Inside, Emma waits for me on her bed. Her hair is pulled into a knot on the top of her head and she’s wearing the same clothes I left her in this afternoon.

  “Hey,” she says, flicking me a quick glance.

  “Hi,” I say, watching her, waiting for her to look up at me again.

  “You want a shower?” she asks, gesturing towards her bathroom.

  I nod, even though she’s still not looking at me. When I don’t move, she finally lifts her gaze to mine. Even in the low light, I can still see the pink in her cheeks, the way she nervously meets my eyes.

  “Help yourself,” she says, biting her bottom lip again.

  I nod. “You won’t fall asleep on me?” I ask, trying for a joke just to ease the tension that’s suddenly filled the room. It’s like an electrical charge, pulsing between us and it’s only the thought that I really do need a shower that stops me from walking over to her and doing all the things I’ve been fantasising about this past week.

  She shakes her head slowly; her eyes never leaving mine now as she whispers, “I won’t.”

  I nod once before turning and walking into her bathroom, wondering which one of us is really in control here. Wondering if I’m not the only one who wants things to go further than they did this morning.

  Knowing tha
t when I come out of this bathroom, I’m going to find out.

  ~ Emma

  Nick disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He’s wearing the same clothes as the ones he left in, meaning he’s gone straight to work from here and then come straight back again.

  I’m not sure what to think about that, what to think about any of it. What it means, what he thinks about me asking him to come over, what he expects from me in return.

  I really don’t want to overthink things, but as my eyes roam around my room, I see the clothes I got from Owen’s room this morning still sitting on the chair by my door.

  Which means Nick doesn’t have anything to put on after he’s taken the shower. Which can only mean he’s going to come out of my bathroom, half naked, possibly all naked and things will really only have one direction to go in.

  I hear the sound of the shower starting up. I could open the door and slip the clothes inside, but what would that look like? Then again, I invited him here, didn’t I, and what the hell does that look like?

  As I sit frozen on my bed, trying to work out what I’m supposed to do, my indecision is solved when the bathroom door suddenly opens. I turn and see him standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and drops of water running down his chest. He holds the towel, tightly clasped in one hand at his hip, his forearm contracting as though he’s afraid he might drop it. It makes the ink of his tattoo move, the muscles and tendons undulating beneath the skin.

  Wow. Anatomy never looked so good.

  “I, ahh, I forgot the…”

  I nod, not moving, not able to speak at the sight in front of me. I’m not sure what message my silence sends to him and all Nick does is stare at me as though he’s trying to interpret it and decide what to do. I see him swallow hard before I chicken out and have to turn away. I’m too nervous to see what his choice will be.