by Bella Grant
I was getting myself an apple from the fridge when Liam walked in and poured himself a cup of coffee in his insulated thermos mug. I ignored him as I also grabbed a golden almond chewy granola bar since I didn’t have time to make breakfast.
“Emily, wait,” he called to me as I started to leave the kitchen. He held my arm to keep me from leaving and warmth spread through my body at his contact on my bare arm. I shrugged his touch off and looked up into his face, conflicted with emotions. He looked marginally better now he’d had a shower, but, as always, he had a haunted look about him.
“What do you want?” I asked warily. “I don’t want to be late for work.”
“Well, that’s it,” he answered. “I wondered if you’d mind giving me a lift to the mall. I checked and Shawn hasn’t brought my car over yet.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to drop dead but not a sound came out. I looked at his hopeful expression. It couldn’t have been easy for him to ask for my assistance, especially since he had behaved detestably to me earlier. Maybe this was his way of trying to say he was sorry? I had no idea. He was the last person on earth I would ever claim to understand.
I sighed and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”
The drive to the mall remained in an uncomfortable silence, and I was glad when we got there. He told me thanks, and we headed to our separate stores.
Throughout the day—which turned out to be a very busy one at the mall—I thought about him. I realized that despite his odious behavior, I cared and worried about him. I was afraid that one of these days, his drinking would cost him dearly. Like his life. At least he had some sense not to drive when he was drunk. I wondered briefly if I could speak to his friends about my concern but discarded the idea. They were his drinking buddies and obviously condoned his drinking habits. I didn’t expect them to have any objections to him drinking himself into a stupor.
And what about the pain in his eyes? How would I fix that—even if, somehow, I got him to stop drinking to such excess? He was close-mouthed about his personal life, so I knew very little about him. He had never brought a girl over to our apartment, which I was pleased about. The idea of him being with another woman made me jealous.
It should be none of my concern if he wanted to bring home a different woman every single night. For all I knew, he visited his girlfriend or girlfriends at their apartments. Whatever his game, I decided I didn’t care and wouldn’t let it bother me.
During my lunch break, I wandered to his music store, checking up on him, although I tried to talk myself out of it. He sat on a stool, chatting with someone who looked like a co-worker when I walked in the store. I blushed at the way his co-worker stared at me. I wasn’t the prettiest girl, that much was obvious, but I did all right for myself in getting attention wherever I went. And today, particularly, my jeans hugged my generous curves just right.
“Emily, what are you doing here?” he asked me, getting up from his stool to meet me halfway into the store.
I couldn’t tell him I was checking up on him, could I? I glanced frantically around the store, scanning a rack with records, shelves of music according to genre and alphabetized according to singers, and finally over to musical instruments, guitars, keyboard, violins—you name it, it was all on display.
“I came to buy…umm…” I spotted something familiar that I hadn’t used since a child. I walked over to it and plucked it from a shelf. “This. I came to buy this.”
Liam observed me dubiously. “You came here to buy a tambourine,” he repeated slowly. “Nope, I’m not buying that. I’ll hazard a guess you came here to check up on me, although it would have been more fun to see if you’d actually buy that tambourine to stick to your story.”
I threw my hands up in the air and the tambourine rattled. “Okay then, fine. I came to check up on you,” I admitted, replacing the instrument. “You weren’t exactly your best this morning.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” he responded. “A hangover is nothing a few pills and a cup of coffee can’t cure. I’m a big boy, Emily. I take care of my own mistakes and don’t need you to let my actions concern you.”
“Umm…oh, okay,” I said and started to back away. “Sorry for bothering you. Anyway, I’m on my lunch. I’m going.”
“Wait!” I almost jumped at his voice. “Sorry, didn’t meant to frighten you,” he apologized, walking over to stand in front of me. “I just have to know. What does it matter to you if I’m sober or drunk? You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true,” I protested, and at the rise of his eyebrows, I rolled my eyes at him. “Okay, so maybe I don’t like you much, but can you blame me after everything you’ve done? Nevertheless, I was worried because you looked like death warmed over this morning, and you—well, you’re not as bad as you let on. I’m beginning to think a lot of things about you are all hot air.”
He stared at me in surprise, and I walked away, letting him muddle through what I said and try to make sense of it.
I was halfway through eating chicken soup with a side of salad I bought from Chick-fil-A when a shadow fell over me and someone sat in the seat opposite me at the two-seater table.
“Hello, Emily.”
I almost choked on the salad as I coughed and stared in surprise at Jake. He smiled at me, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes were vacant and cold.
“Jake,” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it was time to get you back,” he responded. “It’s been over two weeks now, and I’m sure you’ve had enough time to forgive me. Come home, Emily. Just say yes and I’ll get your things from wherever you’re staying and bring you home.”
I shook my head at him and got to my feet. “It’s over, Jake. We’re too different and you need to move on.”
He stood and grabbed my wrist to prevent me from walking away. “You can’t move on from someone who is yours,” he replied. “I always told you, Emily, but you never believed me. You’re mine.”
He brushed his other hand across my jawline, and an icy cold fear gripped me. His touch was supposed to be tender and caressing, but it felt threatening, as light as it was.
“I don’t belong to you nor anyone else!” I exclaimed. “Jake, you need to get psychiatric help. The way you talk about me…it’s not normal.”
“I talk about you this way because I love you!” he retorted. His hand squeezed my wrist until I thought he would crush the bone.
“If you don’t let go of my wrist, I’ll scream!” I warned him, and he let go. I held my sore wrist close to my body, noticing a bruise already blooming.
“I’m watching you, Emily,” he said to me with a creepy smile. “I’ll find out where you are, and when I do, I’ll come get you and bring you back where you belong.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest at his threat. He said it as if he meant it to be loving, but it was a veiled threat.
“You stay away from me, Jake Carnegie!” I cried and fled from him. When I got to the escalator and glanced back at where he had been standing, he was gone, but I glanced around me in fear. I didn’t take his threat lightly, and I couldn’t shake the idea of someone watching me the rest of the day.
If what he wanted was to freak me out, he had succeeded.
11
Liam
I stared after Emily as she walked out of Sonik, appreciating the view from the back. I’d never noticed before, but her buns were round and firm. My hands itched to palm and grab. Man, whatever was happening between us, it had me twisted all up in knots.
“That’s a pretty girl.” My co-worker, Steve, whistled when she was out of sight. “She yours?”
I grunted to myself. As if. I couldn’t see Emily belonging to any man. She was the type of girl who would own the man unlucky enough to be caught in a relationship with her. She was bossy and liked to have things her way. I could see how she could get any man whipped enough to change who he was for her.
“She’s my roommate,” I
said as if that explained it all.
“You’re a lucky son-of-a-gun,” Steve grinned at me. “I’d kill to have a roommate like that.”
“Hmm.”
She wasn’t so bad as a roommate, if I was honest. At least she could have made a bigger deal of me crawling into her bed last night. I chuckled to myself, wondering what the hell I had been thinking. When her scream had dragged me out of my sleep and I woke up beside her, my first thought had been damn, I can’t even remember the sex. I’d felt disappointed that we’d had sex and I didn’t remember the details before I sobered quickly. I had no recollection of anything at all, so I figured I had simply made a wrong turn before falling asleep.
My mind burrowed deeper, thinking about how sexy and tousled she had looked this morning. Her silk nightdress hadn’t been form-fitting, but folds of it stuck to her body. I remembered the crested peaks of her bare nipples, braless and pressing against the material. And later, when she’d stood over me in the bathroom, looking up her nightdress had been purely accidental, though I wasn’t complaining. She could blind me any day by giving me a peek of that view. The shadows of her nightdress camouflaged a lot, but I’d seen enough to know she didn’t let her secret garden run amok with bush.
Our relationship had shifted strangely today, and it wasn’t about waking up in her bed, either. She’d sounded genuinely concerned about me this morning, and the fact that she came by to check on me was astounding. She’d said nothing my parents hadn’t said about me quitting my drinking, yet she’d said so much more. Instead of contempt and disgust in her voice, her reprimanding tone had been one of concern. She could easily have told me to hike to the mall this morning, especially after the way I had treated her so harshly with my words. Instead, she’d shown her big heart by agreeing.
And that reminded me I still needed to get my car back. I rang Shawn. “Hey, man, I need you drop my car off at the mall.”
“Sorry, dude, but I can’t right now,” Shawn stated. “I’ve been making shipment all day. I’ll drop it off at your apartment tonight when I get home.”
Shawn worked with his father as a trucker and made decent money, more than I did. His dad had offered me a job working for him, but I couldn’t see myself driving a truck all day, making deliveries.
“Come on, how do you expect me to move around?” I asked him.
“Get a cab to my place, then, and get it.”
“I’m not wasting money on a cab. Just bring it over when you get home. I’ll catch a ride home with someone.”
After I hung up, I texted Emily and asked her if I could ride home with her.
Hey, can I get a ride home with you? Still don’t have my car.
I thought it would take her a while to answer since she was working, but she responded almost instantly.
Okay.
Just okay? I wondered if she didn’t want to but was being polite. I typed her a response.
I get off at six. Don’t you get off at five? Will that be a problem?
Another instant reply from her.
It’s fine. I’ll just hang around the mall ‘til six.
I was amazed at how well we had learned each other’s routines over the past weeks. I had paid more attention to her than I had even realized. She added cream to her coffee and honey when she made tea. She chewed on the tip of her pencil when she studied and kept a thousand Post-its on her work station. It was beginning to scare me because I knew too much about her.
Several times, I caught myself checking my watch to see if it was six. By 5:30, she walked into Sonik, looking better than ever. From her brightly colored lips, I could tell she’d stopped to apply lipstick before coming to the store. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if she had done so in a bid to impress me.
I was impressed all right, and not just because of her lips. Everything about her made me feel ass-backward. She seemed somewhat nervous about being in the store but settled some when Steve made her laugh with his antics. He was also studying at UAB, which I’d not known, and they got to talking about their experiences.
I felt left out of their conversation, but I didn’t know how to find my way in. I couldn’t say hey, I went to college too, but I dropped out. I listened in jealousy as she related to Steve with such ease. She was having a conversation which didn’t include an argument—unlike ours. She was so caught up chatting to Steve she didn’t realize when it was time to go.
“Em,” I called to her, the first time I had ever shortened her name. “Do you wanna go or spend all night chatting with Steve?” My tone was a little sharper than intended, and Steve frowned at me.
“Yeah, we can go,” Emily replied, then turned to Steve. “It was nice to meet you, Steve. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Definitely,” Steve responded. “I’ve been thinking about getting some new pairs of jeans.”
“We’re having a sale!” she announced and waved as she followed me out of the store. I was a little pissed and walking so fast she had to do a little running to keep up with me.
“Did you take a lesson in being rude or does it come naturally?” she asked me when we were at her car and she opened the door to the passenger’s side to let me in.
“Naturally,” I responded, buckling up beside her. In her tiny car, the space was hardly big enough for two people to sit comfortably. I adjusted my seat, something I should have thought to do this morning.
She rolled her eyes at me and started the car. Her hand paused over the P of the automatic stick, and she was so still, I turned to regard her with a frown. She had paled considerably, staring into her rearview mirror. With a frown, I checked to see what was behind us that was so scary, but I didn’t see anything except vehicles.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “You seem a little shaken.”
She drew the stick down to reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “I-I’m fine,” she answered. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”
“Oh?” I said, fishing for information, but she didn’t respond. I tried let it go until I realized how jumpy she was. She kept checking the rearview mirror, and each time I did, I saw nothing amiss, nothing but the usual vehicles behind us in traffic.
“You missed our turn,” I pointed out to her when she drove past the second turn we could have taken back to our apartment. I hadn’t said anything to the first because it sometimes happened to me as well. I would be caught up in my thoughts and miss my turn, but I never missed the second one.
“Oh, well,” was all she said with a forced smile. “I guess we’ll get there when we do.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I tried to draw out an honest response from her.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Well, don’t bite my head off. You seem a little jittery, that’s all.”
I held my tongue in frustration as she drove us through what seemed to be a maze and sighed with relief when we finally reached the apartment. A drive that should have taken less than fifteen minutes had taken almost an hour.
“Remind me to drive next time,” I told her as we climbed the stairs and I let her ahead of me inside the house.
“Hmm, instead of complaining, you could try saying ‘thanks, Emily, for taking me to and from work,’” she answered.
I flushed at her chastisement. “I do appreciate it,” I mumbled. Jesus. She made it seem like I was never able to do anything right around her.
“Good.” She smiled at me. “Then maybe you’ll be appreciative when I make dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?”
I didn’t immediately comprehend her question. I had noticed she cooked a few times, usually enough to last her a couple days, but she’d never extended the invitation for me to dine with her. I stared at her, wondering if she was asking me to eat with her. I didn’t want to give the wrong answer.
She must have mistaken my hesitation. “Of course, you don’t have to eat with me. If you already have plans with your friends, that’s okay.”
“No, no…I have no plans,” I rushed in
to assure her. “And spaghetti and meatballs sounds very good.”
“Great, I’ll get started.” She headed for the kitchen.
I went to the bathroom to take a leak and chastise myself for acting brainless around her. “Get a grip, Liam,” I told myself, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. My face was red. I couldn’t believe I was hot under the collar from being around Emily.
I washed my hands and left the bathroom, trying to stay out of her way while she cooked. I tried watching a program on the television, but nothing good was on so I turned it off. Restless and trying to stop myself from going into the kitchen and sitting there just to be close to her, I grabbed my acoustic guitar and started strumming.
Mostly, I strummed the keys and penned lyrics, but I didn’t feel like doing so today. I started singing songs I had written previously, trying to remember the words. I became so caught up in it, especially singing one particular song that always made my breath hitch and my eyes watery, a melancholy song about losing family, about loneliness and heartache I wrote seven years ago. I’d started singing it at Kyle’s funeral but got so choked up I’d left the church without completing it.
My finger hovered over the final chord, and I almost jumped when I heard clapping behind me. I spun around on the sofa—but not before wiping the tears discreetly from my eyes—and saw Emily standing just inside the kitchen, staring at me in awe. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
“Sorry,” I apologized, getting up to replace my guitar in the corner. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t disturb me,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her. “Liam, that was beautiful. I’ve heard you play before, but I didn’t know you could sing so wonderfully.”
