Drawn

by Anderson, Lilliana

  Annoyance flashes, hot in my chest as I push back from the table. “Listen, this is obviously a bad idea. Just tell Aaron to call me when he gets in. I’ll wait for him in the park across the street. I’ll practice my self-defence skills while I’m there in case I get mugged by one of the little grannies coming out of the post office.” Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the food,” I add as an afterthought, as I stand up and gather my things to leave.

  He rises as well, watching me as I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn towards the door. With a speed that seems unnatural for a man with his bulk, he suddenly slams his body up against mine, effectively pinning me against the door.

  “What are you doing?!” I shriek, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I struggle against his body. He leans his face close to mine and I go still, his warm breath on my face sending shivers over my body. I should probably be scared right now but instead, all I can focus on is the firmness of his chest against the softness of my own, and the beautiful colour of his eyes staring into mine with what looks like concern.

  “Do you see what I’m talking about?” he whispers close to my ear, his voice threading its way through my senses, making me dizzy and short of breath. “Sometimes a man will be faster and more trained than you are. It’s not safe for you.”

  My eyes flutter and the only sound that escapes my mouth is a whimper-like ‘huh’. I can’t believe how affected I am by him, I just met him.

  As our eyes lock, and I feel sure he’s about to kiss me and hold my breath, waiting for him to do something. My phone chooses that moment to start playing Young Girls by Bruno Mars. I gasp as he releases me and steps back, moving immediately to the table to clear away our plates and empty cans.

  With a shaking hand, I reach in my bag and pull out my still ringing phone. Frowning, I slide my finger across the screen to answer the call.

  “Uh, hello?”

  “Etta? Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for ages. I thought you were coming over today?”

  “Uh… no, I mean yes – yes I’m coming. Um, what number apartment are you in again?” I ask, eyeing the man who I had thought was Jeremy in front of me as he leans against the sink with his muscular arms folded over his broad chest, watching me with darkening eyes.

  “Nine.”

  “Nine,” I repeat as I open the door and look at the number, now noticing the scrape marks from where it has obviously spun countless times. Reaching up with my finger, I slide the number up to its original position and press it in place so that it’s now a number six.

  “Um… hello?”

  “I’m here. I’ll be at your place in a couple of minutes. See you soon,” I say before disconnecting and turning my attention back to my deceptive host, pointing to the number on his door. “You might want to use something a little stronger than Blutach to keep that in place in future. It will save you getting unwanted visitors.”

  “You were definitely wanted,” he says watching me intently.

  Shaking my head, I ignore the clenching of my insides as my body responds to him. Instead, I call him a jerk and step out into the hall way. Closing the door quietly, I take a moment to calm myself down before looking at the doors around me, quickly locating number nine on the other side, almost diagonal from this door.

  As I step away, I jump slightly when the music starts up again in the room behind me. I can’t believe that guy just took me into his apartment when he knew I wasn’t here to see him. To what? Teach me a lesson about self-defence? I don’t care how sculpted-from-marble-by-the-hands-of-the-gods you may look – who the fuck does that?

  I walk towards the correct door, pray that my face isn’t too red and knock. I’m immediately greeted by another Adonis and almost gasp at the sight of him as well. What the hell is this? The secret hiding place for all of the god’s love children? I’m wondering if I knock on every door I’ll find a model like creature living inside.

  “Jeremy is it?” I ask, double checking this time.

  He grins, his blue eyes almost getting lost in his perfect smile. “That’s right, come on in. Aaron’s just hunting for his keys,” he grins, stepping aside to let me in.

  I can’t help but notice the stark contrast in the state of the two apartments. This one is basically a mirror image of the one across the hall, but as you’d expect for the home of two single men – it’s not the tidiest place in the world.

  “I’ll be right out,” I hear Aaron call from the bedroom.

  Jeremy moves some papers, books and clothing from one of the couches and gestures for me to sit down.

  “Geez, you’re a tall one,” he comments, looking me up and down.

  “So I’m told,” I respond, smiling politely.

  “You know, I used to think I was a pretty decent height. I mean, I’m almost six foot, but then I moved up here. Is there something in the water supply or something?”

  “Who knows,” I shrug before attempting to steer the conversation away from my six foot, one height. “Where were you living before?”

  “I’m from Victoria. Grew up on Phillip Island,” he nods.

  “So you’re a bit of a surfer then?”

  “Not really,” he laughs.

  “Found them!” Aaron declares from the doorway to his room, holding his keys up triumphantly. “Hey Etta, thanks for waiting,” he smiles moving over to the couch and planting a kiss on the side of my cheek. His stubble grazes my skin as he brushes past.

  “No problem. Are your ready to go though? We’ll have a few places to look at.”

  “Absolutely. I just need my wallet…”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Aaron has located his wallet and we’re saying goodbye to the real Jeremy. As we walk down the hallway, I try my hardest to keep my eyes from straying to the door at number six – what is that guy’s game anyway? Why not just tell me I had the wrong room?

  “What’s going on?” Aaron asks me, looking over his shoulder. “You seem a bit skittish.”

  “Oh it’s nothing. I just had a bit of an altercation with your neighbour over there.”

  “Who, Damien?”

  “I don’t know his name. I just knocked on the wrong door at first because his number was upside down.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly. “Doesn’t surprise me. That guy’s a grade A fuckwit in my books. He’s some kind of artist and has girls streaming in and out of there all the time. He’s the kind of guy that gives the rest of us a bad name.” Shaking his head, he runs his hand through his sun streaked blond hair then abruptly pauses, tapping on his pockets before exclaiming, “Oh shit. I left my phone on the charger. Meet me downstairs in the car?” he says, as he passes me his keys.

  Rolling my eyes at his absent mindedness, I can’t help but smile as I take the keys from him. Knowing Aaron, he’ll be another twenty minutes trying to find his phone too.

  The moment I step in front of number six, the door bursts open, and my arm is caught by a very strong hand. I spin my arm around effectively evading his grip, and step away.

  “What the hell is your deal!?” I hiss out, not wanting to cause a scene in the hallway.

  “I’m sorry, ok – at first, I was just having a joke. But when I realised how young you are, I realised how dangerous it could be for you if this happened somewhere else.”

  “I can look after myself,” I told him through gritted teeth, extending out my arm and pushing him in the chest. He doesn’t even move.

  “Obviously,” he says, a slight grin turning up the corner of his mouth as he holds my eyes.

  “Is everything ok?” Aaron asks as he emerges from his apartment. He moves to stand beside me, his arms crossed over his firm chest as he looks between myself and Damien.

  “Aaron,” Damien says with a nod.

  “Damien,” he responds.

  “So, you dated a minor huh?” Damien starts.

  “Fuck you. She was seventeen when we dated. The legal age is sixteen dickwad.”

&n
bsp; “I was referring to the fact that legally, you aren’t an adult ’til eighteen. But if you want to tell me about your sex life, that’s fine too.”

  “Um…guys. I’m standing right here,” I say, although my words fall on deaf ears.

  “Well, we can’t all go around using the fact that we’re an ‘artist’ to trick girls into sleeping with us,” Aaron bites back, using his fingers to quote the word.

  Damien presses his lips together as he regards Aaron, then turns his attention to the stairwell. “Speaking of art, here’s my next model now.” We all turn to see who he’s talking about, as the most gorgeous looking brunette I’ve ever seen walks, no, she slinks, up the last few stairs. “Sucks to be me huh?” he says, directing the comment at Aaron.

  “Damien.” She oozes his name in greeting. “Are we having some kind of party?”

  “No Bec, these two were just stopping by.” He steps to the side a little as she glides past us all and into his apartment. “It was nice to meet you Etta. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  “I don’t think so,” I retort, feeling all agitated by that girl’s entrance, hating that in my mind, I’m comparing myself to her, as well as hating the pang of disappointment I feel over seeing her with him.

  “We’ll see,” he grins, closing the door and leaving us both standing there.

  “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a jerk,” Aaron says, placing his hand on my back and guiding me toward the stairs.

  “He doesn’t bother me,” I lie, pretending to shake off the interaction. “Although, what the hell is with this building? Are you only allowed to live in it if you’re ridiculously good looking? I feel like I’m on an episode of Next Top Model!”

  “Do you think I’m ridiculously good looking?” he grins, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.

  “You and Jeremy could be brothers, you look very much alike.”

  “That’s not answering the question,” he laughs.

  Rolling my eyes, I return his laugh. “You know I think you’re hot Aaron. You’re the man I got myself into a hell of a lot of trouble over,” I remind him, referring to the reason we were forced to break up. “Although, it’s lucky I refused to name you. I just called you ‘my boyfriend’, otherwise dad might have hunted you down and then pulled me out of school altogether.”

  “The whole thing was a bit of an overreaction I thought, but hey – you’re almost eighteen. Freedom is on the horizon,” he affirms, opening the car door before I hop inside.

  “He was just scared that I was going to end up like Craig,” I comment, defending my father. The loss of my brother is something my family felt intensely and as much as I’ve wished for my freedom, I’ve always understood my father’s motives.

  When Craig was fifteen, he started rebelling against my dad. Being raised by an Aikido sensei meant that discipline and respect were a huge focus in our household, and as Craig got older, he felt that my father’s rules were too restrictive.

  He started sneaking out with his friends. I don’t know exactly what they did – I was only twelve at the time – but I do know that he changed a lot in that last year. He was belligerent, and at times incredibly hateful toward my parents, and was always preaching to me about how the other kids are allowed to have fun and we should be able to as well.

  I guess I admired him for standing up to my parents, which is why I never told them that he was climbing out of his window every night. Each night, when I went to bed, I would pull up my blinds and sit there, waiting until I saw him go. He always knew I was there, and would turn around grinning at me, pressing his index finger to his lips to remind me to keep quiet.

  I would wave him off, and go to bed, trying to imagine all the fun he’d be having out there with his friends. In my mind, it was all parties and fun times – and I guess, based on how he died, it probably was.

  Occasionally, he’d bring something back for me – a shiny stone, a hair clip – just silly things that he obviously came across while he was out having fun. He’d slide them to me surreptitiously at breakfast with a wink when no one else was looking, and I treasured each one like he’d given me a star from the sky.

  Then spring came, and with it, the storms that swell the Nepean River to bursting point, increasing the speed of its current as the water rushes, carrying debris and other obstacles in its haste to return to the ocean.

  A storm had raged for days, making it so that my brother was forced to stay home for a couple of nights. When the rains had finally cleared, I could tell from his demeanour that he was eager to leave and be with his friends.

  I waved goodbye to my brother for the final time that night, and I’ll never forget that last grin as he ran toward his freedom, he didn’t even place his finger to his lips to remind me, he just smiled and ran into the night.

  When I woke the next morning, it wasn’t to my brother, sitting at the breakfast table and the hope of a treasure. It was to my parents sitting on the couch, holding each other and crying as a police officer explained to them what had happened.

  I stood by and listened as the officer spoke, saying that my brother and his friends had gone down to the river, drinking and messing about as teenagers are wont to do. At some point, my brother separated from the group and fell into the rushing water, and due to his inebriated state, he didn’t make it out alive.

  Eventually, I felt so guilty that I broke down and told them that I knew he was leaving. As a result, it was deemed that I couldn’t be trusted and my life became school, home and study. Of course, as I got older, I started to rebel too. I guess I followed in my brothers footsteps a little too closely, because when my father caught me sneaking out my bedroom window, he immediately nailed it shut and after interrogating me about why I was sneaking out and who I was going to see, he forbade me to date and kept even closer tabs on my whereabouts.

  And so, the countdown began. I decided that the moment I turned eighteen, I was moving out and having a life of my own – I can’t live with all that fear anymore. I miss Craig too. I just can’t mourn him forever. I need to live, and I know that’s what he would have wanted – he’d want me to be free.

  “Let’s go and get your life back by finding you some place to live,” Aaron announces as he starts the car, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Good idea,” I say smiling, knowing that wherever my brother is right now, he’d be smiling too.

  Chapter 2

  Aaron’s and my version of looking at share houses, involved going to the uni and taking numbers off the various flyers posted on notice boards, then making phone calls while we sat at the café, drinking and eating our weight in coffee and blueberry muffins.

  By the end of it I was bloated and shaking like I was going through withdrawals, but at least we had two places we could go and see that afternoon.

  The first place was a townhouse that was around a fifteen minute walk away from the uni itself. When I called, I spoke to a girl named Jessica who said that their other roommate had to leave unexpectedly, and since they couldn’t afford the rent on their own, they needed someone quickly.

  “This looks alright,” Aaron comments as we pull up out the front of the townhouses. The place we’re looking at is the very first one, so its caramel coloured, side wall faces the street. “Although, if those are the bedrooms, you might want heavy curtains,” he says, indicating the side windows and the street light above us with his cobalt blue eyes.

  Jessica greets us at the door, she’s a tiny girl with light brown hair and dimples when she smiles. “Come in,” she says, holding her hand out to shake mine and then Aaron’s.

  A small grin pulls at the corner of my mouth as I notice her do a double take when she’s confronted with Aaron. It’s probably exactly how I responded when I first met him. He’s wonderfully tall, a good inch above me, has blond sun streaked hair and big blue eyes that seem to glow like jewels from within his tan face. He’s one of those lean athletic looking guys, so he’s not overly muscled, but he’s beautiful t
o look at. I tend to joke that that’s the only reason I keep him around. But that’s not true - he’s a good friend, and he’s never made me feel like a child. Other guys would have just moved on after my dad banned me from dating him, but not Aaron, he’s a loyal friend.

  “So what degree are you doing Etta?” she asks as she shows me through the townhouse. Downstairs is all white walls and beige carpets in the small living and dining area. The furniture is all second hand but comfortable looking, and there are a few nick-knacks around as evidence that this is a girl’s home.

  “Communications,” I reply, following her around as I take in the amenities. There is also a small kitchen, laundry and second toilet downstairs, as well as a postage stamp courtyard out back.

  “Ok, one of my friends does that. She’s first year as well. Do you know a girl called Tanya? She’s really little with curly blonde hair.”

  “No, sorry. I’m actually third year.”

  “Really? Sorry, I thought you were my age.”

  “I am,” I reply. “Well, I’ll be eighteen in a few days.”

  She gives me a questioning look, and I briefly explain the whole skipping grades thing to her as she leads us upstairs to see the bedroom and main bathroom area.

  “She left her furniture behind, so you’re welcome to it. I know she took a trip with her dad to Ikea and got it all there at the beginning of the year. You’ll have to provide all of your own linens and pillows and whatnot.”

  The bedroom is fairly simple, it has a built in cupboard for my clothes, a tall boy with a mirror on top of it, along with a small computer desk, swivel chair and a single bed in the middle.

  “What’s the rent?” Aaron asks, as he moves over the window and tests the thickness of the curtains.

  “One-fifty,” she replies.

  “A week?” I ask.

  “Yeah, then we divide all of the bills between us. You shop for your own food though.”

  “Great,” I say, following her back down the stairs and into the living area.