by A. J. Downey
He went over somewhere to my left and returned with his acoustic guitar.
“Come up here and get comfortable.” He patted the pillows and I groaned. He laughed a little.
“I promise, once you get comfortable this time I won’t make you move for the rest of the night if you don’t want to.” I hauled myself up and laid out properly beside him.
“I wanted to play this for you.” He murmured and got the guitar in position. I rolled my eyes over and tilted my head to look up at him.
“Okay…” I said and he closed his eyes and began to play.
My heart stopped in my chest as the sanguine notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the small apartment.
“Oh my God…” I breathed.
A faint smile played on Evan’s lips, lashes dark crescents against the smooth pale skin below his eyes as he played. He opened his eyes and his smile grew marginally when he took in my expression. I didn’t dare to breathe.
I listened and he played. I remained completely still while the notes floated seemingly effortlessly from his fingertips. Tears gathered in my eyes, that he bothered to learn it caused my heart to constrict within my breast. That he played it so sweetly for me, so flawlessly… I swallowed hard and felt the stirring of something big in my heart. I closed my eyes and he played on, the final notes drifting into the deepening night, silence descending on the apartment.
I left my eyes closed, savoring the moment. He was still beside me for long moments and then came the rustle of cloth, the dull sound of him setting the instrument aside. Stillness, silence and the rustle of cloth came again. His breath was warm against my lips and my eyes flew open as his touched mine, soft, chaste, asking permission.
I debated for only a heartbeat before opening to him. His mouth was warm and firm against my own, I drew in a shuddering breath. He tasted of his clove cigarettes, spicy and underlying that masculine. His hand grazed my ribs, smoothing down along the black of my top, dipping under the hem, calloused fingers warm and rough against my skin as he moved beneath it.
I whimpered softly into his mouth and he swallowed it with a throaty moan that had me melting. He drew back from the kiss with a gentle nip to my bottom lip and looked me in the eyes.
“I told you I would kiss you.” His tone was deep and dark, decadent and I smiled.
“Yeah, you did.” I whispered back, afraid of shattering the moment.
He brought his lips back to mine and heat unfurled from my middle, traveling languorously through my veins, stealing the breath from my lungs. My panties grew damp and though I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, I wanted him.
I wanted Evan Lake to touch me, wanted to feel his lips on the most intimate parts of me… I dragged in a slow breath and he broke away from me.
“God you make it hard to breathe.” He growled.
“So do you.” I uttered.
“You better go London, or I’m not going to stop.” He said gently. I nodded but didn’t move.
“Please…” and it was the note of pleading in his voice that got to me. I sat up.
“I won’t stop and you deserve so much better than what I am right now.” He swallowed hard.
I stood up and picked up my meager pile of belongings.
“I’ll leave the window unlocked.” I said, before slipping out the door. His noncommittal grunt was his only reply.
I went into my apartment and was good at my word. I immediately went and made sure the window was unlocked.
I let out a shuddering sigh and stood for a moment, fingertips pressed to my hot and swollen lips. God he was hot. I bowed my head and got myself together before changing for bed and washing the remnants of makeup off my face. I got under the covers and switched out my bedside lamp, wishing he would come.
He didn’t that I know of.
I was so tired that I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Stage 4
Depression
Chapter 10
I didn’t see Evan again for almost a week after that night and I think my heart broke from it a little. I tried to tell myself with conviction that it wasn’t me, but uncertainty and insecurity gnawed at me.
Finally, on my way to class one morning I saw him, out on the landing, cigarette between his fingers, staring off into oblivion once more. He turned to look at me and his expression was drawn, shuttered. I chewed on my bottom lip and finally turned to lock up my apartment.
“You’re fucking incredible.” He said. I turned and arched a brow.
“You… It’s like you know what I need even when I don’t. You give me space to figure things out and I know… Fuck I know this has got to be playing Hell on you…” he stopped and looked at me helplessly.
“Are you done?” I asked softly.
He blinked, deliberately.
“London…”
“Because if you’re done I really need to get to class.” I said. I was torn up. This was playing Hell on me whatever this was we had going on between us. I was incredibly attracted to Evan Lake, but I had to admit to myself we didn’t know dick about each other and his rejection had hurt, even as well intentioned as he’d claimed it to be.
“No I’m not done.” He said, flicking his cigarette over the rail, he stalked toward me and for the first time I was a little bit afraid of him, I backed up against my door and he crushed me to it, mouth covering my own. I was still beneath him, didn’t try to kiss him back. Confusion wrapped me in a strangle hold. He drew back enough to look me in the eyes.
“I want you so bad it’s killing me.” He whispered and I closed my eyes because I sort of knew the feeling. My hormones were up and doing the samba through my bloodstream. I felt my panties dampen at his mere proximity.
“I want you London, you’re beautiful and you treat me better than any woman has ever treated me before. You haven’t asked me for anything except basic respect which I haven’t been able to give you and that makes me a real dick. You deserve better than the likes of me…” he bowed his head and raked his hands through his hair.
“I need to sort my shit out.” He sad at last and backed away from me.
“Yes. You do.” I agreed and started down the stairs, stopping midway down the flight. That was a shitty way to leave things, even if I was hurt or confused by him… I had to be better than this and so I spoke:
“I’m still here if you need me Evan.” I said it quietly but I know he heard me by the sharp intake of breath.
“London…” he said but I finished my decent and took the next flight twice as fast, bursting out into the courtyard.
“Son of a bitch…” I heard him curse from the second floor open landing. I didn’t turn back. He’d hurt my feelings by ignoring me but to some degree I understood. I was still here. I wasn’t going to give up. Neither was I going to be a doormat though… Was I?
What a fucking mess… Here’s to hoping that things would have a way of straightening themselves out with minimal emotional wreckage.
~*~
The next afternoon I was at my computer retouching photos for a project when I heard the pounding start. A masculine voice was calling out to someone and I rolled my eyes.
I was staring at the first photo I had ever taken of Evan. He was on the landing, and I was carefully adding color to the black and white image, using the color photos of him in my bed for reference. Coloring just his tattoos. The pounding was becoming relentless and obnoxious until finally I couldn’t take it anymore.
I threw down my stylus onto my desk and went out my door.
“Come on!!” a man called from upstairs and began his hammering again. I looked up and blinked, he was pounding on Evan’s door and after over a month of him living here was the first person I’d ever seen besides the blonde.
He was dressed in leather pants and a leather jacket. Flannel red and black checkered shirt peeking out from below the worn biker jacket which had metal pyramid studs on the shoulders and along the lower back panel. He kicked the door with a heavy boote
d foot and I jumped.
“Evan’s not home.” I called and he turned. He was bald but young. His light colored eyebrows shot up and a slow grin spread along his lips as his gaze wandered from my head to my feet and back again.
“What’d you say sweetheart?”
“I said Evan isn’t home. He went out last night and hasn’t come back yet.” I swallowed.
“Evan…” he said, “Right…” and I frowned.
“If I see him, who shall I say is calling?” I said. The man laughed.
“Well that would be awfully nice of you sweet heart, what’s your name?” he leaned against the railing and looked down at me. His eyes were blue and twinkled with laughter. I got the vague impression he was making fun of me or trying to flirt and I frowned.
“I’m London.” I said, “And you are?”
“Hal. Nice to meet you London.” He came down the stairs and stuck out his hand. I shook it and he let it go. I took a step back towards my open apartment door.
“You know… Evan… well?” he asked.
“Met him the night he moved in.” I said, pursing my lips.
“He’s a good guy.” Hal said.
“Yes he is.” I murmured, keeping the for the most part I wanted to add on silent.
“You talk?” he asked.
“I’m not sure how that’s any business of yours Hal.” I smiled but it wasn’t friendly. He put up his hands and took a step back.
“Easy there tiger.” He said and smiled, and mine softened marginally.
“I’m…Evan’s… bandmate. Drummer.” He stumbled over Evan’s name again and I frowned.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I said.
“Sorry? For what?” he asked, perplexed.
“Evan told me about his friend D. Said they were in a band together, if you’re the drummer that means you were D.’s friend too…” I crossed my arms and he blinked at me bewildered.
“He talked about D.?” he asked.
“Sometimes… not much and not often but yeah.” I said quietly.
“Wow, we haven’t been able to get word one out of him about it.” he said.
“Can I say something without you getting upset?” I asked.
“Sure.” He ran his hand over his scalp and palmed the back of his neck. It was so reminiscent of Evan that I couldn’t help but smile genuinely.
“Please understand that I speak from experience here… There are five stages go the grieving process. They don’t come in any particular order, they aren’t any of them pleasant… They just are what they are and you can’t go around them or skip any of them, you just have to go through them, feel them all and come out the other side. That’s his reality right now, and he needs people strong enough to hold him up through the worst parts. You can’t make him talk about it, you can’t make him feel these things; they come in their own time. All you can do is be there to listen when the floodgates do open.” I said gently.
He considered me, searching my somber face for long moments while my words sank in.
“That’s what you do for him?” he asked.
“I try.” I said honestly, adding, “He certainly doesn’t make getting close to him easy.”
“No, no he does not.” Hal let out a gusty sigh.
“I’ll let him know you were here.” I said finally, sticking out my hand. He took it and I squeezed lightly.
“I really am sorry for your loss.” I murmured.
“Thanks.” He said and I saw a glimpse of his raw naked pain.
I went back into my apartment to the chorus of his booted feet tromping down the stairs…
Chapter 11
“Someone was looking for you.” I said sleepily. Evan stilled behind me. I had gone to bed at eight, I had no idea what time it was now, but I had woken to my window sliding shut and Evan getting into my bed with me.
“Who?” he asked.
“Hal.” I said.
“Son of a bitch.” His shoulders dropped in what I think was relief, I couldn’t be sure.
“He’s worried about you.” I turned over and looked at him, he drew me against him and I gave him what he needed, putting my arms around him, laying my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I echoed.
“What did he say?” he asked and his voice was strained.
“I told him you weren’t home and he said he was your bandmate, I said I was sorry to hear about his loss and he asked if you’d talked to me about it. I said yes, some, and he said you wouldn’t talk about it with anyone, that they were worried about you. I told him to give you time. That you’d talk when you were ready, and to just be there for you.”
He relaxed beneath me, his arms tightening around me.
“Thanks.” He said, voice gruff with some unnamed emotion.
“You’re welcome.” I replied softly. We were silent a long time. I was nearly asleep when he said to me:
“Hey London?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay away. I know this isn’t fair to you…” I cut him off.
“Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“Was the window unlocked?” I asked.
“Yeah…”
“Well, okay then.” I said.
He let out a breath and hugged me to him and my blood fizzed through my veins like fine champagne. I wasn’t going to pretend to myself that this wasn’t hard. I wanted Evan to touch me, I wanted him to talk to me… I kept telling myself to be patient. I needed to be patient for him. No one had been patient for me, no one had waited for me to come out of it on my own and that had hurt. I didn’t want a single other person to go through their grief that way. Not if I could help it.
I drifted off to sleep clutched against Evan’s chest like some precious treasure and I was okay with that, because I think it was what he needed but also, selfishly, it was what I wanted…
~*~
“Why do you put up with my shit?” he asked me, hours later. We were still warm and close in a nest of my blankets. His hand on my hip, thumb making careless circles there over the thin cotton of my short nightgown. I was hyperaware that should his touch drift a centimeter lower that he would find skin rather than cloth and was having a very real internal struggle about it. Half of me wanted his long graceful fingers to dip beneath the ridden up hem of my nightgown, the other half of me was screaming at me about being selfish.
I rolled my lower lip between my teeth and tried to focus on how best to answer him.
“L.B.?” he asked. My eyes flicked to his and I was suddenly forgot how I was supposed to breathe. The green depths vivid in his pale skin, pupils ringed in a starburst of gold to make the green hue around it that much greener.
“I know what you’re going through.” I said, startled by the admission that issued forth out of my mouth.
“How do you know?” he asked, “Who did you lose?” I blinked and recovered quickly.
“Nuh-uh.” I said and he frowned.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because, I tell you things about me, you’re one big mystery. You tell me something about you and then I’ll tell you something about me. Give and take from now on. I think it’s only fair seeing as you keep breaking into my apartment.” He looked stung, then had the grace to look chagrined.
“Okay. Ask me a question.” He sucked in a breath and I thought about it…
“Why do you keep coming here?” I asked.
“Same reason I keep calling you L.B.” he said softly and I arched a brow in a silent urge for him to elaborate. He let out a gusty breath.
“You’re my bridge, back out of this… whatever this is…” his hand moved off my hip to wave ineffectually between us in gesticulation and I felt a stab of wistfulness at the loss of its warmth.
“’This’ as you put it, is grief, mourning… loss at its worst and most painful. Give it time Evan, it hasn’t been that long and whoever D. was, he meant a lot to you.” I cradled his cheek in my palm, thumb sm
oothing over the stubble on his cheek and he closed his eyes.
“Shit, London, this isn’t fair to you!” he captured his full lower lip between his teeth.
“Life isn’t fair Evan.” I reminded him. His eyes opened and he leaned forward and claimed my mouth with his in a fierce kiss. His hand went back to my hip only lower, palming the outside of my thigh. He smoothed the hand down my leg and hooked his long fingers behind my knee, dragging me closer, bringing my leg up over his hip.
He disengaged from the deep kiss and sucked in a breath like a drowning man coming up for air. I could feel the hot press of his erection through his boxers against my body, an answering wetness collecting there.
“You’re not wearing panties.” He observed, hand travelling up the back of my leg, over the curve of my ass. I shuddered.
“I don’t usually when I go to bed.” I pointed out, “You crashed this party, remember?” he smiled and his hand kneaded my ass. I closed my eyes and bit back a moan.
“I don’t think I can stop this time…” his voice was husky, deep and rough with need.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Mine was low and breathy.
“Condoms?” he asked and the butterflies in my stomach did a summersault.
“IUD.” I answered. He tilted his head and regarded me.
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
“What?” I frowned.
“You’re twenty-three… most twenty-three year old girls rely on condoms, or the pill or at the most injections.” He as searching my face now, curiosity shining in the too-green depths of his eyes. Things were cooling off by like a lot and quickly. Frustration swamped me but if we were going to go there he might as well know the truth.
“I don’t want kids,” I said. I closed my eyes and waited for the incredulity, the surprise… the objections that I was too young to make this kind of decision but none of it came. I opened my eyes to see Evan frowning, but with concern.
“That’s a pretty big decision.” His hand was massaging my thigh and I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked and waited patiently. My mouth was dryer than the Sahara.
