Alone

by E. J. Noyes

  “Quite well thank you, for how I am and how I slept.” Olivia stretches, face scrunched up as she reaches for the ceiling. “And my leg feels stiff, and a little sore and swollen but otherwise okay. It doesn’t seem to have bled through the dressing.”

  “That’s good.” Seeing her in my bed stirs strange feelings, more intense than those I’d have had in my other life, outside of this place.

  She’s awake when I push backward through the just-open door with a takeaway coffee in each hand. I have the opposite of morning-after regrets. Illuminated by the sun streaming through my windows, she’s better looking than she was last night in the artificial light of the club. The woman studies me, eyes wary until I hold up my offering.

  “Hey, you’re up. Here, I got coffee.”

  She rolls over, stretching cat-like and the blanket falls away. “Thank you. I need a little something to help me wake up.”

  I settle on the edge of the bed, my eyes roaming unashamedly over her exposed body. She’s absolutely lovely. My voice is a seductive purr. “I can think of something else to help wake you up.”

  I remember what came after. The hungry kisses, coffee forgotten on the bedside table. She left while I was in the shower and I never found out her name. This memory doesn’t stir anything in me, no arousal or warmth. Rather, I feel a blankness where there should be an emotion.

  Olivia brings me back to the present and this bedroom, and that blankness colors into something that almost feels like pleasure. “Celeste?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I plaster a smile on my lips. “Just thinking. Are you hungry?”

  Blankets are pushed aside, exposing her panties-and-bra-only body. “Actually, yes I am. I also really need to use the bathroom. Can you help me? I’m not sure how well I can walk.”

  “Of course.” I rush over, like I think she might piss the bed if I don’t get there immediately.

  “Sorry, Cel. I didn’t mean to. They’re all still here and I was too scared to get up to pee,” Riley mumbles.

  I tilt my head, away from my sister’s voice and the memory of what happened when Mother realized what’d happened during the night.

  Olivia grabs the top of my shoulders to pull herself up. “Thanks.”

  I put my hands on her waist to steady her and immediately feel like I’ve done something wrong. This isn’t the first time I’ve grabbed someone I barely know, but neither of us is drunk nor are we in a club. We’re so close that her breasts brush mine. Everything feels wrong and strange but I don’t want to let go. My fingers dig in. Hold on. Let go. Hold on. “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “It’s okay. It’s good, actually. I’m a little unsteady.”

  I maneuver beside her and we begin our shuffle to the bathroom. Olivia lingers at the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. “I think I can manage from here.”

  “Yeah sure, of course. I’ll stay outside until you’re done.”

  I leave her but stand a few feet away from the bathroom door, leaning against the wall. There’s a loud thud, presumably her crashing down onto the toilet. “You okay?” I call.

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  “She doesn’t need you, kid,” Mother informs me airily. “Nobody does. You’re useless.”

  “That’s not true,” I shoot back.

  “What was that, Celeste?” Olivia asks from behind the closed door.

  Shit. I run my tongue around my mouth, desperate for some saliva so I can talk. “Nothing,” I manage to push out. “Just talking to myself.”

  “Oh.” The toilet flushes. Water runs. “I’m finished. You can come in if you’d like.”

  I open the door cautiously and glue my eyes to her face. She’s leaning against the sink again, keeping weight off her right leg. “I think I’d like to take a real shower, if I could? I feel disgusting.” She looks down at herself and her eyes widen as though she’s only just realized she’s dressed in nothing more than her underwear.

  “Uh, sure.” I have to consciously clench my teeth to stop my mouth from staying open at the sight of her.

  “I can manage the showering by myself if I’m quick, but I think I’ll need assistance getting dressed again.”

  All the options run through my brain at half speed and loop back around to one thought. Naked woman. I slide past her without touching and turn on the shower, checking the temperature as I would for a child. As I did for my sister more times than I can recall. “Um, everything’s there, soap and stuff. I’ll fetch you a clean towel.”

  “Thank you, Celeste.” Olivia reaches around behind herself and I turn around so quickly I almost stumble. From behind me there’s a soft laugh before her bra lands on the floor by my feet. I’m not looking, not looking.

  I leave the door ajar so I can hear if she needs anything, then rush around the habitat. She needs clothes, I know that much. In my room, sorting through what I think will be comfortable, I choose sweats and a tee, then hurry down to the basement laundry for a fresh towel. The shower is still running when I come back up.

  Closing my eyes just in case, I speak through the gap. “Everything okay in there? I have some of my clothes for you.”

  “Thanks. Would you mind grabbing me some clean underwear from my pack? Main compartment, near the middle. And my toothbrush and some deodorant too if you wouldn’t mind. Sorry, you’ll have to ferret around in there.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” I’m helpful, she needs me. I open the door a little more and stretch over to place the towel on the rack.

  There’s a long pause. “Just so you know, there’s also a handgun in there. For protection,” she clarifies.

  I rest my hand on the doorframe. “Are you saying you want it?” Many women feel safer hiking alone if they have—stop.

  “No, not at all. I’m just telling you so it’s not a surprise.”

  Her pack is still by the front door where I dumped it yesterday. As well as bear spray in one of the outer compartments, there is indeed a handgun—loaded, safety on. The gun is confusing. That she’s had it this whole time spins her behavior into a whole new light. Until now I’d assumed she was staying and cooperating simply because she had no other option. Playing her cards right, ingratiating herself with a stranger to get what she needed until she could leave.

  But the gun. She could have used it right at the start, taken what she wanted. Forced me to help her. Crawled out of my bedroom in the middle of the night to collect it. Maybe she’s just not the armed-standoff type. I certainly am not. The way she’s acting is more trusting or curious, not like someone who is afraid. I set the gun aside and dig through her bag, which is tightly packed with food, a minimum of clothing, and other hiking necessities. It doesn’t take long to find what she asked for and I choose a random pair of panties and the other items, then stand outside the bathroom door, hugging the pile to my chest.

  Allison laughs. “The Celeste I know would have slipped in there to join her. You love shower sex.” Her voice is right near my ear and I feel a hot tongue on my neck. “Have you lost all your game, girl?”

  “Not appropriate, Alli,” I whisper, wiping at my neck. But there’s nothing there.

  Water shuts off. I wait and wait until Olivia calls out that she’s done. The towel is wrapped around her body and she’s breathing hard, face drawn.

  I hold up my offering. “I have sweats. Sorry, I put your pants in to soak the uh, blood out.”

  “Thanks, that’s very thoughtful. Would you be able to dry my back?”

  My heart stutter-steps. “Mhmm.”

  She turns around and loosens the towel further so I can rub it over her back. She has a mole on her left shoulder blade, a tiny spot on perfect skin. “I think I can do everything except my underwear and the sweats. Getting underwear off was a challenge. I can’t bend my leg,” she explains. If she’s worried about being near me while naked, she’s not showing it. The towel drops.

  I’m deliberately looking away though every fiber of
me wants to look down at her ass. It’s like a comedy where I’m some jock caught in the girls’ locker room, except at the moment, there’s nothing funny about it. She shuffles to face me again. Cover her crotch or breasts first? Pick something, Celeste. Just give her some clothes.

  I grab her panties—I’m really not looking at them, I’m not—and crouch down on the bathmat. Olivia’s resting her fingertips on my shoulder and I feel the tremor from her exertion as she carefully steps into the underwear. I slide the fabric up tight calves and thighs, tugging the elastic away from the wound.

  Without thinking, I glance up to check they haven’t snagged and catch sight of dark curls between her legs. The ache in my throat intensifies, and the urge to bury my nose in the patch of hair is almost overwhelming. Olivia leans over, fingers twitching her underwear into place. My gaze moves further upward but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s fucking exquisite. Small firm breasts, soft curves, smooth skin. I want to take hours to explore her inch by glorious inch with my tongue.

  Riley snorts. “Remember when you first told me you liked girls and I asked if that meant you were going to touch boobs?” She laughs and repeats herself. “Boobs!”

  I clench my jaw. Shut up, Riley. Shut up.

  Olivia catches my eye, her expression calm and slightly teasing. My ears burn at being caught so blatantly checking her out, and I drop my face to keep my eyes glued firmly on the mat. “Sorry.” I fumble for the T-shirt and pass it up to her.

  “It’s fine,” Olivia says. “I think I’m ready for the sweats.”

  I’m all too aware that under my dark gray tee Olivia’s not wearing a bra. “These will be a little long on you, I think,” I tell her, more to cover my shyness than out of a real need to explain. They are my favorite pair, the ones with the little rip above the knee. Soft, warm, and comfortable, and probably the closest thing to a meaningful gift I could give her right now.

  Olivia makes a soft sound of agreement and we repeat the process of pulling clothing over her injured leg. I roll the cuffs up a few times so she won’t trip over them with her shuffling. Now everything important is covered, I can stand and help her pull up the sweats. My fingers brush her skin. I can’t help it. There’s no way to dress someone without touching them. My skin is on fire and it takes every ounce of willpower to ignore my urge to keep touching her.

  I clear the longing from my throat. “There, all done. Are you hungry now?”

  “Starving. And please tell me you have coffee.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Excellent. Things might have gotten ugly if there was no coffee.” She gives me the ghost of a smile. “And thanks for the clothes. I think I might even be able to sit at the table like a civilized human now.”

  The lame joke comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Then I’ll have to pull out my best silverware and finest china. But the fancy tablecloths and cloth napkins are in a box in my other mansion, sorry.”

  Olivia breaks into a smile. It’s luminous. “You’re even funnier—” She pauses, the smile wavers then comes back even brighter, if that’s possible. “…than I’d thought. I mean, what happened yesterday wouldn’t have given you much to joke about, but you’re so quiet that I wasn’t sure you had a sense of humor.”

  I don’t know what to say to that because I’m not the funny gal in the group who’s always ready with a joke or something witty. My sense of humor is offbeat and erratic and most of the time only amusing to myself. I pick up her bra and underwear from the floor. “I’ll wash these. With your other stuff from yesterday. I think I can fix the hole in your hiking pants.”

  Olivia takes the change of topic in stride. “That would be great. They’re the only ones I have with me.” She hops closer, her hand outstretched as though to grab me.

  Awkwardness makes my toes curl, and it’s made worse by the fact that I’m holding her panties. Being around her makes me a study in contradiction. I want to look at her, to touch and talk. Yet I feel I’m missing a vital connection, something that lets me act like a regular person just having a conversation. She grasps my shoulder for balance and I tense. I’m not a freak. I’m just a person living in a slightly strange circumstance. I’m normal, I swear.

  “Celeste? Are you okay?” Are you okay seems to have become a standard question during each of our interactions.

  I relax my grip on her arm. I don’t even remember taking it. “Sorry.” Blink, smile, respond. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine. Ready for breakfast?”

  Olivia studies my face but it seems she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, because she glances away again. She slings her arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  She smells like me, my soap and shampoo, but at the same time she’s different. Kind of like when someone else wears your perfume and it somehow changes the scent. On our way past the computer room, I gesture at the closed door. “It’s really important that you don’t go into that room. There’s a camera in there,” I explain when she lifts a questioning eyebrow.

  “Okay. Sure, I’ll stay away.”

  “I’m sorry, I know it’s weird,” I fret.

  “Celeste, don’t be sorry. This is your…house and considering the circumstances, you’re being very gracious and accommodating.” As we continue down the hall toward the kitchen, she leans more heavily on me, her obvious limp clearly painful if her sporadic sharp intake of breath is any indication. And with every one of her halting steps my guilt grows a little more.

  “It’s the least I could do. After, you know…shooting you.” I toss her underwear down the stairs to join her pants and shirt in the laundry.

  Her fingers tighten on my shoulder. “You’re going to have to let it go eventually and the sooner you do, the sooner we can move on.” She lets go of me to grab the back of a kitchen chair and settles herself at the table.

  Move on. Move on to what exactly? I run my hand over the back of my neck, massaging tight muscle. “Why are you here, Olivia?”

  “Because I can’t walk well enough to hike out,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is.

  I shake my head. “No, why are you staying? You could have charged up your GPS, worked out where you are, forced me to give you the four-wheeler at gunpoint, and sped the hell out of here. But you didn’t. You haven’t done any of those things. You’re staying.”

  “I’m not really the Shoot-’Em-Up-Tex type.” She smiles like she’s enjoying a private thought. “Honestly? Aside from my current physical limitation, that I could no more get on an ATV than fly, I’m curious about all this. Curious about you.”

  This woman is the most confusing person I’ve ever met. I’ve never considered myself an expert at reading people, but usually I can make something from their behavior that gives me a sense of them. But I can’t make any sense of her. My right eyebrow dips unconsciously, and I realize it probably looks like an affectation to make me appear clever. I raise it back to its rightful place.

  Now that someone is here, I’m hyper aware of everything I do, and I’m questioning everything I say. It’s exhausting. And rude because now I’m thinking about my discomfort and not responding. I rest my fingertips on the tabletop. “It’s not that interesting. I’m not that interesting.”

  “How about we let me decide who and what I find interesting,” she says lightly. Olivia points at the abandoned Monopoly board still laid out on the kitchen table. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, uh, just a game I’m playing.” My simple life of the past three-plus years is now a giant embarrassment. How can I explain to her what it’s like to be completely alone and what I have to do in order to hold on to pieces of myself? I’m trying to hold on now, but it feels like parts of me are leaking out. No, not leaking. Being pulled out by her.

  She stares at the board then moves her focus to me. “But…”

  “I’m all three players. Celeste One, Two and Three.” I straighten the hotels Two has on Boardwalk and Park Place. That bitch and h
er luck. When we’re adults, let’s buy a huge house and live together forever, Cel—stop. Finally, I glance back at Olivia. “I play a lot of games this way. Scrabble, poker, chess.”

  The crease between her eyebrows deepens then disappears. “I see.”

  My earlobes are hot. “It…passes the time.”

  “Well, maybe we can play a game or two, and pass the time together.” She lifts her injured leg to rest flat on the seat beside her. Something I’ve always found amusing is that they gave me a full-sized table with six chairs. Did they think I was going to have five imaginary friends come over for dinner every night? I could barely even conjure up two imaginary people to play board games with me.

  “Okay, I’d like that.” It’s a truthful answer but also true is that I can’t imagine playing games with someone else, not having each player aware of the other players’ intentions. I move into the kitchen to start another pot of coffee. “There’s no fresh milk, only powdered but I made a new jug this morning. I’m sorry, I ask nearly every month, hoping they’ll send me some fresh milk but they never do. They could put it in the dry ice and I could use it right away before it goes sour. But they don’t and I really don’t know why.”

  Her smile is patient, almost like she’s humoring me while I ramble on about crap. Olivia leans forward with one arm resting on the table. “Powdered milk is totally fine. What else have you asked for but not received?”

  “A dirt bike. I know it’s more dangerous and not actually useful like the ATV, but still, it’d be fun. A drone, but they probably thought I’d try to fly it somewhere to find a face to look at. Oh, a drum kit! I thought it’d be great for working out frustrations and maybe I could join a band when I get out. Not like there’s any neighbors to annoy with my drumming.” I smile inwardly.

  Olivia interlaces her fingers, studying me intently. “I see you as more of a bass player.”

  “Noted. I’ll ask them for a bass but I don’t like my chances if they wouldn’t send drums. I’ve also asked for pet goldfish but I can see how that would be tricky. But they sent me pizza last month, real deep-dish pizza, not that frozen crap from a supermarket. It was incredible.” I frown. “Or maybe it was the month before.”