Infinite Completion (The Infinity Series Book 1)

by Michelle Dennis

  Infinite Completion

  By Michelle Dennis

  Copyright 2015 Michelle Dennis

  Kindle Edition

  Dedication:

  For you, Mum.

  Acknowledgements:

  Gratitude to Najla Qamber Designs, for the amazing cover.

  Also, for help with the written word, The Pedantic Punctuator, Magic of Book Promotions, Hello Precious Bliss and the Ellenbrook Writer’s Group – this could not have worked without each and every one of you.

  A huge thank you to my family and friends for their love and support – you know who you are!

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  Contact the Author

  Other Books by Michelle Dennis

  Chapter 1

  It’s been a long time since the Black Dog has come to stay. Sure, he’s always lurking in the doorway, but my happy pills are working pretty well and I’ve had my psychiatrist visits cut back to once every four months. I’m not always okay, but I’m mostly okay – so I’m content – as much as possible.

  Someone once asked me, “What do you want most out of life, Abbie?” After a moment’s thought, I answered, “To be happy.”

  Today had started out happy. A lazy Sunday morning spent with a soppy romance novel in my lap and my housemate and best friend, Hannah, cooking up a batch of delicious scones. Our best friend, Sarah, dropped by to show off her new butterfly tattoo; stretched across her back. And Hannah’s boyfriend, Ethan, even stopped in to see what food he could take from us, so he didn’t have to buy groceries. This was my “happy”.

  That was before the unthinkable happened.

  The girls had begged me to join them at the local tavern to check out a cover band in the hope of hiring them for Hannah’s twenty-first birthday party and I’d stupidly agreed.

  Now, here I am, standing in a noisy tavern with my friends, and not feeling so “happy” anymore.

  ‘Come and dance, Abbie,’ Sarah begs. Full red lips, straight bottle-blonde hair that bounces around her perfect face and big blue eyes framed with long black eyelashes. She hardly ever passes up a night out and tonight she’s showing off her new knee-high boots, very short skirt and an even shorter top – highlighting her tiny waist and just a small part of her tattoo.

  ‘I’m okay, maybe the next song.’ I tighten the grip around my glass of orange juice and move closer to Ethan and Hannah. He places a protective arm around me and I grin at Sarah. We’ve all been friends since primary school and I know Ethan isn’t that keen on being here either, because, like me, he’d rather be snuggled up on the couch with a book, a glass of wine – and Hannah.

  ‘Yeah, come on, Abbie, let’s dance!’ Hannah presses, ignoring Ethan’s stance. I look up at him and he’s grinning at Hannah with a “you’ll-have-to-pry-her-from-me” kind of smile. Only it doesn’t really suit him, because he’s not very tall or well-built and I’m sure Hannah at only five foot two, in heels, would have no problem knocking him over. She challenges Ethan with narrowed eyes, takes my drink and hands it to him. I sigh in defeat.

  Sarah grabs hold of my hand and drags me into the throng of pub-goers. She’s always been the outgoing one of our little group, a sort of Cameron-Diaz-kind-of-fun. The guys swoon over her, and most girls are intimidated by her, but we love her to the moon and back.

  I try to relax a little with Hannah and Sarah excitedly bouncing through the crowd and dragging me with them. High-rollers, blue-collar workers and all other walks of life have gathered at Pandora’s Pub on Beaufort Street for their customary drinks, as a last salute to the weekend.

  My reflection catches my attention in the mirrored wall through the sweaty crowd and I cringe. What the hell was I thinking when the girls asked me to come here? With my long auburn curls pulled up into a loose pony-tail, and my more-than-tidy outfit, consisting of a sensible vintage-look blouse and knee-length skirt, I look more like a librarian than somebody out for a fun night with friends.

  We find a space to dance near the stage and both the girls are grinning at me, thrilled to have won the tug-of-war. The band we’ve come to see has finally taken over from the dreadful disc jockey and their performance quickly captivates the crowd. Seduction is a cover band and right now, they’re doing a pretty good job of, Little Red Corvette – the guitarist’s riff fills the tavern and sets the crowd buzzing.

  ‘I love this song!’ Sarah screams and jumps up and down like a teenager. I roll my eyes, but smile back at her.

  ‘Me too,’ I shout over the music. And I do, I love music. Any song I can sing along to; when nobody is listening, of course.

  I look up at the singer and boy, he’s cute. I mean, in a celebrity-kind-of-way.

  Actually, on second thought, he’s unbelievably sexy and I’m suddenly feeling very hot in the cheeks. I size him up. Well-built, with a washboard stomach and long legs. Is there anything sexier than a gorgeous man in a black t-shirt, which sticks to his olive skin, glistening with sweat? His black curls fall across his forehead as he bends forward and of course, the ladies all look more than a little woozy. I’m not sure if it’s the slight stubble on his chin, the way his jeans are torn on the knees or the way his muscles tense on his arms, that causes my breathing to quicken, but I’m in a trance. I study the veins which swell on his neck and follow them to a tattoo of some kind of wild cat, flexed across his forearm. I scan his face again.

  He’s watching me stare at him. Oh, that’s embarrassing. What’s wrong with me? I clearly read way too many romance novels!

  I glance at Hannah, who’s looking over at Ethan. Then I look at Sarah and she’s watching me too, with a wide grin. She shouts something at me and points to her heart and then to the singer in a mocking lovesick gesture. I frown.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I shake my head and pretend to be interested in a group of intoxicated middle-aged women who are dancing nearby. I don’t go for bad-boy types.

  Then without wanting to, I look up at him again.

  My heart is swooning, he’s delicious... it’s just a bit of fun… and now it’s an all-out war between my fragile heart and the annoying, but always right, opinion of my intuition.

  Not impressed at all with this uninvited battle between primal desire and logic, I try to ignore the man who is causing my pulse to accelerate. Or is it the dancing, or the claustrophobic atmosphere, which is making me breathe like a marathon runner? What’s happening? I never behave this way and it’s unsettling. Is this what happens in places like this, fuelled by alcohol and sweaty skin?

  I force my thoughts to the book I left abandoned on the coffee table at home. The characters who keep my heart safe and sound. The places I travel without ever leaving the couch. This time, I’m in Florence with Lucy and her annoying Aunt Charlotte. These characters keep my real world steady when it gets shaky. They give me advice from the pages and make life seem balanced. It’s taken me a long time to feel balanced. And until now, my heart and intuition were getting along quite nicely.

  Now, this guy is stirring emotions that I know shouldn’t be stirred. I have to get out of here. I head back to Ethan with my dignity utterly traumatized. And when the song finishes, the singer ambles over to the
bar, instantly surrounded by women and the band members. He hands out drinks and speaks to everyone around him, all the while glancing over at me.

  ‘He’s no good, he’s got an ex-wife and a kid,’ a voice shouts into my ear over the music being pumped out by the disc jockey. I know this isn’t my intuition, or my mother.

  I turn to see if the comment is aimed at me.

  ‘Hi, I’m Phillip,’ he says, holding out a hand. I grasp it reluctantly; while I have a ridiculous flashback to my brother telling me once, that men hardly ever wash their hands after they go to the toilet. I push the unwelcomed thought away and smile politely.

  The drummer – and really cute too! My irrational heart is clearly infatuated by the sway this band delivers, but I try to ignore it. The haze and smell of body odour is inebriating.

  ‘Oh, I… um, I have a boyfriend. Actually, we’re hoping to book the band for our friend’s twenty-first. Would you be interested?’ I can’t believe I just lied to this guy about having a boyfriend, as if it were my superhero force-field.

  Ethan interrupts with his hand held out. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Yeah, good mate. Phil,’ he shakes hands with Ethan, but his eyes are on Sarah.

  ‘Ethan. And this is my girlfriend, Hannah and our friends, Abbie and Sarah.’

  He gives Sarah a wide grin and hardly glances in our direction. ‘Hi, girls.’

  So, he likes Sarah? Of course he does. I suddenly feel like an idiot.

  Now we’re all acquainted.

  ‘So, do you do private parties?’ Ethan asks, breaking the ‘moment’ between Sarah and her new friend.

  Phillip looks back at Ethan. ‘Yeah, for sure, just ask the lead singer for our business card, he handles all that. Anyways, it was nice to meet you all. Can I buy you a drink, Sarah?’ he shouts over the music.

  She nods, putting out her hand for him.

  Foolish girl.

  Phillip takes Sarah’s hand and leads her through the crowd toward the bar.

  ‘So, I guess the lead singer is the band manager, too? Abbie, go and ask him for his card,’ Ethan gestures at him, the man who made my knees turn to jelly.

  ‘Um, no, not me... you go,’ I shout quite loudly. I have a lump in my throat. I can’t talk to him.

  ‘You’re closer, just go and get a business card,’ Ethan says, as he turns his back to me and continues canoodling with Hannah. I sigh and turn to the bar. Here goes.

  ‘Um, excuse me!’ I say, as loudly as possible over the thumping of the music. He doesn’t seem to hear me. I touch him on the shoulder lightly. His skin is hot through the dampness of his t-shirt. I pull my hand back quickly when he turns.

  He smirks and shows his perfect white teeth. ‘It’s okay, I don’t bite,’ he shouts out over the music.

  I step back a little and he moves toward me.

  He bends toward my ear. ‘Do you wanna dance?’ he says loudly.

  Instinctively, I move back again, bumping up against another girl. ‘Oh, um, no thanks. Your friend said you may have a business card?’

  He lifts an eyebrow and continues standing way too close. He looks a little confused. I assume he doesn’t get turned down very often.

  He leans towards me again and says, ‘You might like it.’ I feel my cheeks burn and when I glance at him as I move away, I notice him looking at my neck.

  Stepping back, I clear my throat to make sure my voice works and shout over the music, ‘I don’t think so.’

  He moves closer again and I feel my heart jolt. ‘You looked like you were enjoying yourself before.’ He’s grinning and looking me over. ‘I promise to be gentle.’

  ‘I, well, no thanks, I’ve had enough for one night.’ Did I just say that? I sound like my mother.

  ‘Okay,’ he shrugs, ‘your call.’ He glances around and leans against the bar, his shirt stretching across his chest. ‘What can I do for you?’

  I must look a little confused or dazed, or something. I’m trying to place his very slight accent. Irish? But, he looks Greek. I gulp and try to sound calm. ‘My friends and I would like to book your band for a party.’ A smile plays on his lips and I can see he’s watching my mouth as I speak.

  ‘Sure, but I don’t have any business cards available.’ He turns away from me to ask the attractive girl behind the bar something and she quickly hands him a pen. I notice the gleam in her eye and feel an unexpected pang of jealously. Then he writes on a napkin and hands it to me. ‘Here’s my number.’

  ‘Er thanks...’ This is my comeback? Absolutely no grace and now he probably thinks he’s made my heart flutter.

  I push my way through the crowd and back to the safety of my friends. Shoving the napkin into Ethan’s shirt pocket, I try to look unflustered, because there’s no way I’m calling this guy.

  The remainder of the evening is spent hiding in the shadows beside Ethan, and trying very hard not to watch the singer. He flirts with a blonde woman from the stage and she’s probably going to share his bed tonight. Why should I care? This is what guys like him do. And I’m beginning to feel like a stalker!

  After I begin to complain about being tired and having to get up early for work, everyone agrees to call it a night. It’s been a strange encounter for me with the “real” world and I’m none too happy about the whole affair. There’s a solid reason why I don’t do the pub scene; it’s called being sensible. And speaking of being sensible, I should probably read a little of “Room With a View”, before bed, but I don’t really feel like Lucy and Aunt Charlotte – not tonight. I can’t get the vision of the singer out of my mind.

  I know I’m being naive about him and as I climb into bed alone, I convince myself he wasn’t flirting with me. Guys like him are not interested in girls like me, it’s that simple.

  I struggle through the following week. I find myself imagining the singer on every page I read and on Friday morning, I meet Sarah for a coffee. Maybe she can talk some reason into me, now there’s no alcohol involved.

  ‘I want to go back and see him tonight,’ I say to her.

  ‘Really? Abbie Bennet wants to go to a pub? Ha! Well, you’re obviously smitten aren’t you?’ she laughs, then straightens her face and adds, ‘So come with me tonight, then.’

  ‘I promised Dad I would go fishing with him... what do I do?’

  ‘Look, seriously, Abbs, forget about the guy, he’s not your type. He’s in a band for God’s sake... he probably has plenty of girls,’ Sarah says, with that “keep-your-wits-about-you” look. She’s beautiful; and under that blonde hair and wicked smile, she’s much more intelligent than me – especially concerning the opposite sex.

  ‘What about Phillip?’

  ‘He’s different.’ Sarah grins like a kid on Christmas morning. I really don’t want to know.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about him,’ I sigh.

  ‘Oh, Abbs,’ she sighs too.

  This is no help at all.

  ∞~∞~∞~∞

  I go fishing with Dad. But as we sit by the river’s edge, I think of the singer and the way he looked at me; this isn’t good, right?

  Who am I kidding? What do I see in this guy; apart from his hunky biceps and chiselled good looks? He’s the lead singer in a band. He’d chew me up and spit me out... I need to stop pining!

  ∞~∞~∞~∞

  On Saturday morning, Sarah calls to let me know that the singer had asked about me last night, when he’d noticed I wasn’t there. This doesn’t help me to forget about him at all.

  ∞~∞~∞~∞

  The new week comes in bursts of butterflies and biting nails. And I really do try to drown myself in Lucy and Aunt Charlotte’s shenanigans in Florence, only Lucy is smitten with George and it just makes matters worse.

  Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved reading about handsome heroes and romantic adventures. I’ve pictured myself here in these pages, because I know it’s not real. These perfect places and flawless people are just the figment of somebody’s imagination, written down in a
book, to entertain my heart and mind for as long as I keep turning the pages. This is why I love to read and why I’m not allowing my silly heart to dwell on a man who is everything my mother warned me about.

  ∞~∞~∞~∞

  Two long weeks pass and my heart is still a lovesick mess over a complete stranger.

  It’s Saturday morning and my rostered shift to work at the Wellness Centre. We have very few patients and I spend my time thinking about him. And to top it all off, after a quick phone-call from Sarah asking me to go with her to the bar, sensible, well-balanced Abbie Bennet is nowhere to be found.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re too tired when you get home, Abbie,’ she warns. ‘I told Phil I’d meet him. And Hannah is going to some fancy restaurant with Ethan.’

  ‘Okay, I promise,’ I sigh into the phone, ‘I don’t mind really. I want to see if this thing I have is just silly…’

  ‘God, Abbs, it’s just a bit of fun – you have to stop trying to put things in order!’ Sarah laughs.

  ‘Having your heart broken isn’t fun, Sarah.’

  ‘Who says you’re going to have your heart broken? He seems like a really nice guy.’

  ‘And pigs might fly,’ I say. ‘Anyway, gotta go, see you at seven,’ I add, lowering my tone as a patient walks out of the doctor’s room.

  ‘Okay, seven,’ Sarah shouts through the phone as I hang up the receiver.

  When one o’clock finally arrives, I rush home. Sarah is going to meet me here and we’ll grab a cab to Pandora’s Pub. I wiggle into my faded blue jeans this time, and a cream chiffon blouse; still conservative, but not too serious I hope. I make an effort to cover the freckles across my nose with some foundation and leave my curls down. I’m so damn nervous.

  It’s still early in the evening. The band is setting up. The bar isn’t crowded, but I can’t see him anywhere.

  Sarah and I sit at a table with our drinks. It’s times like this when I’d love to drown my nerves in vodka, but instead, I’m sipping politely on an orange juice while Sarah downs her glass of whisky. We watch the door.