Before Dawn: A Free Falling Novella Page 10

  She’s barely taken a breath, she’s definitely not okay.

  “Olivia?” I hold her hand, trying to calm her down, but she brushes it off.

  “And did you know there’s a study that claims men only grow up at...?” She jabs a finger into my chest and I stare down at it, stunned. “Want to take a wild guess? At forty-three, imagine that! It surely explains a lot about what is going on here, doesn’t it?”

  Okay, enough is enough. Firstly, I don’t go around telling women to shove their silly, sappy romance novels straight up their bums. Second, not that I bloody care what her opinion is, but comic novels can be very serious too; take Safe Area Gorazde, about the Bosnian War, or Maus, about the Holocaust. Third, I’ve already put up with enough shit for one day. She should leave now.

  “Are you done? What the hell was all that?” I snap, holding her arms firmly, fighting the urge to shake her.

  She lowers her eyes and lets out a heavy exhale, her shoulders sagging. For a moment, no words are exchanged, there’s only this tense silence and our breaths intertwining.

  “Olivia?”

  “I’m so sorry. God, my head’s swimming from the wine. I’m calling for a taxi, I need to go before I talk any more rubbish…”

  “What’s just happened here?”

  She keeps her gaze down and shakes her head silently. “I’m tired, I told you.”

  I tilt her chin up and look down into her face. “No. What is really going on?”

  She glances up, blinking back tears. “Nothing. I apologise.”

  I frame her face with my hands. “Liv?”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not as easy as I thought it’d be. To see you again. I wanted to deal with this in the most natural, mature way, pretend we don’t have a story—after all it’s been such long time. I thought I could handle being around you, but I can’t.” She pauses for a few moments. “All I know is the last thing I wanted was to have some stupid argument with you after all these years… and…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, let us forget all this. Let’s say a proper goodbye, and put–”

  “Aren’t you too late for that? Eleven years, eleven fucking years too late?” My voice is thick and harsh and she freezes, the CD she was still holding slipping from her hands and falling to the ground.

  My heart begins to thud so hard I can almost hear it. My mind is a blur as I draw myself even closer, to let my hot breath brush her lips and my eyes bore into hers. “Aren’t you?” I ask again, louder.

  Her face turns pale and she seems too choked up to utter a single word. My gaze falls to her mouth again, to her lips parting slightly as she draws in steadying breaths, and a violent shiver moves through me.

  Oh, screw it!

  For some insane reason, I hold her head in my hands and place a hard kiss on her lips. It’s firm and deep, with an urgency and eagerness that make each breath come faster. She throws her hands around my neck, pulling me down, inviting me in. And it hits me hard. Like a tidal wave of wanting and desperate need.

  Breathing my name into my mouth, she runs her fingers through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, clinging fiercely to me. I need to pull back for an instant, to suck in a breath, but then I wrap one arm around her waist and pull her even closer, as close as our bodies can get. And our tongues tangle again, taste each other desperately, frantically, in a hot and consuming kiss that feels like the sum of most desires.

  My hips push hard against hers as I brush my lips against her collarbone and then kiss the bare skin of her shoulder, my body revealing her effect on me. I close my eyes to inhale her scent. It’s intoxicating.

  She pulls my hair and demands my mouth again. And I groan against her lips, my hand running down her back to caress her thighs. An inarticulate sound breaks from her throat and reverberates through me. And I like it. A lot.

  My heart lurches into an excited pace as she pulls my shirt from my trousers. And another shiver runs down my body as she unbuttons it and kisses my chest, murmuring something against it, something I can’t understand.

  “What, sweetheart?” I whisper against her lips, my hand tackling its way to the zip of her dress.

  “I want you,” she speaks softly, but her voice is uneven, something like a smothered cry.

  Pulling gently away, I slip my hand under her chin, tilting her head up so I can see her. Her eyes are glistening, almost tearing up.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Olivia brushes her fingertips over the stubble on my jaw, a faint smile flickering on her lips. “It’s nothing, it’s just that... I’m a bit edgy today, that’s all.”

  A fortuitous glance and my eyes fall to the floor.

  Damn, the CD she was holding before. A birthday present from the year after we broke up. She came to visit me, but I pretended I wasn’t at home. After that, I neither bothered to look for her at her uncle’s nor to thank her in any other form.

  “You know, having thanked me wouldn’t have harmed you,” she says, both of us looking at the album Westlife must have released that year. “I missed you. An awful lot.”

  “Liv.” I stare intently into her eyes, my fingers threading through her hair. “You were the one who broke up with me, remember? No, you didn’t even do that. You just left me, in the dark, without having any idea whatsoever what was going on in your head, or why you didn’t want to see me anymore. Having at least said goodbye that night wouldn’t have harmed you either.”

  “I’d never felt so hurt, so disappointed...” She wipes her eyes with her hand and then pauses, a heavy silence falling between us. “Come on, we were just kids! Why are we even digging this up now?”

  “Come here.” I take her hand and lead her to the sofa, where I gesture for her to lie down and rest her head on my lap. “I think it’s about time we finish this bit of unfinished business of ours.”

  Chapter Thirteen ~ Olivia

  Staring into emptiness, I try to gather my thoughts and this myriad of feelings I can’t discern. Reading the flurry of conflicting emotions that surge through me, Brian squeezes my hand, knowingly. I hold it back, the weight of our silence conveying what doesn’t need to be verbalised: what almost happened would’ve been a mistake. It’d only push us apart all over again and neither of us wants that.

  My mind is racing, torn between the command of reason and this relentless surge to let myself go and let him see I crave his touch like I never thought I would again. But then comes rationality, forcing you to hold back your truth. That high-powered, selfish beast that digs its claws into you, reminding you each time the clock ticks it’s not safe to play with fire.

  But what’s worse? Not getting burnt at all cost? Or wondering what could have been, if only you’d taken the risk, allowed yourself to get out there in the open?

  “Why don’t you get it off your chest?” Brian’s deep, soft voice draws me back from my thoughts. I glance up. He’s reading the note I left on the CD back then, congratulating him on his birthday, pleading for him to call me back.

  “Oh Brian, look at you. You’re probably the last guy on earth who would understand what I’m going through...”

  “Maybe you’re wrong. Why don’t you try me?”

  “Really? So, can you tell me why all men think marriage is for suckers?” With a frustrated sigh, I adjust my head on his lap and wrap my arms around my middle.

  A faint smile breaks across his face as he pulls a fleece blanket throw off the back of the sofa and tucks it around my shoulders. “Let’s cover up all this hotness, I really don’t want to look at it. I feel like a poor kid whose candy has been taken away.”

  Dummy!

  Before snuggling into the soft fabric, I give him a playful eye-roll.

  “I am almost jealous of this damn thing.”

  “Don’t be silly!”

  We’re forcing ourselves to act in a light-hearted manner, poking fun at the situation, but the underlying tension is palpable. The memories surfacing, the many recollections of our recent pasts but a
lso of our own shared history, hold snippets of a time that stirs both of us up inside. I can see it in his eyes, as much as he can see it in mine.

  Twirling a lock of my hair between his fingers, he stares down at me with a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s not all of us, Liv. I’m the only one who hasn’t taken the plunge, everyone else has. And as far as I know, none of them had a gun pointed at their head.”

  “How come you don’t want to meet someone who makes you feel she’s the one? That your life would be so much better if she were part of it?”

  “No, I’m afraid I’m not there yet. Right now, settling down is a scary thought, the idea of spending my life with the same person up until the day I kick the bucket is frightening as hell. You’re right, I’m not exactly a good example.” Brian reaches for my hand and laces my fingers with his.

  “But why? Why couldn’t I make that prick commit? First, he had gotten out of a bad relationship, then it was bad timing, then he was not ready, not in the place right yet...”

  “Does Mr Prick have a name?”

  “You know, Filipe never actually proposed, that bastard. Eventually, I got fed up with all that bullshit-talk and told him I wouldn’t date him for the seventh year. He always knew I’d want to start a family at some point, I wasn’t going to waste my time anymore on a coward who was unwilling to commit. Either we moved in together or he could get himself a one-way ticket to Prickville.”

  “You cornered him?”

  A heavy sigh escapes me before I can stop it. “Yeah. That dickhead had his back against the wall and finally agreed to it. Okay then, we should settle on a date, he told me. Just like that. After an argument in the meds room. As romantic as a clyster shoved up your bum!” Another frustrated sigh. “That’s really every girl’s dream...”

  His finger slides down to draw circles on my forehead, and then further to trace the corners of my mouth. Then he brushes my lips gently and a shiver races down my spine.

  What are you doing? What do you want? To torture me?

  I pretend he’s not affecting me as much as he is. “Why? Why is it such a scary thing, to commit?”

  “I don’t know. What if I pick the wrong person? What if she changes into something I’ll hate? What if she’s not the one, but the one is still out there waiting for me? I truly don’t know... it’s complicated.” His words are sincere, his expression tinged with frustration.

  “So, you keep it simple? With what? One-night stands? With hook-up friends or something? What do you do the next morning? You slip away with as little fuss as possible?”

  He doesn’t reply, which can only mean yes.

  I make myself look up at him. “But don’t you get tired of it? Of no-strings-attached flings? Don’t you get bored with all the useless small-talk, when you know beforehand you won’t ever be with that person? I bet the sex isn’t even great. It can’t be: people have to know each other well, otherwise they screw that up too!”

  He limits himself to a blank stare.

  “But isn’t it a meaningless experience? Sex without love?” Silence envelops us for a moment and I look at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

  Deep blue eyes are riveted on mine, as though trying to reach deep into me. Eventually, he draws his mouth into a sad smile and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry about what happened, that it didn’t work out. But it will, someday, with some other guy. With someone who actually deserves you.”

  The words are gentle, but there’s a sorrowful, aching expression on his face he tries to disguise with a smile and the briefest of nods. It’s startling how I can see the shadow of my own hurt reflected in his features.

  Smiling back, I hold his hand against my face and rest my lips on his knuckles. It’s a long kiss, an instinctive gesture I regret in the end since I shouldn’t even be here. In his house, in his arms. The bare truth is we’re nothing to each other anymore.

  Right?

  His searching gaze doesn’t provide the answers I desire. Instead, he looks away and clears his throat, his hand slipping behind my neck, his fingers threading through my hair.

  “So, you want a quality guy, right?” he asks in a half bantering, half serious manner.

  “I’m not getting any younger here!” I snuggle into him and I let my body relax; tiredness is seeping through all my bones.

  “Okay, let me tell you about guys who are only playing the field, the kind you don’t want to waste your time with. The bastards you should keep at a safe distance. Want to listen to my crap?”

  “If it’s free.”

  “First rule of thumb: ditch weekenders. You immediately want to dump the guy who forgets about you during the week and only calls when he needs someone for his weekend chill-out programme. Got that?”

  I hum in agreement. “Taking a mental note.” I blink, failing miserably at suppressing a yawn. “Sorry...”

  He rests a hand over my eyes, his touch gentle. “Close your eyes. Just listen.”

  I nod, feeling the tension subsiding in my body, taking comfort in the movements of his hands, tangled in my hair, stroking it.

  “Number two. You don’t want to be around the scumbag who’s only making plans with you for the next weekend, and not for the next year. Same thing if he doesn’t hang out with you on a Sunday afternoon. You deserve more than a guy who just wants to meet up at a pub on a Friday evening and shag right after.”

  Although I am too tired to open my eyes, my lips curve into a sardonic little smile. “Who are you describing, Brian Anderson?”

  He ignores me. He’s perfectly aware I know more than he wishes I did.

  “You want to spend your time with a guy who remembers all the things you told him about yourself. Those who just want to have fun, trust me on this, they’ll have to think hard to remember your last name.”

  Hmm, hmm. Noted.

  His fingers rub my temples with soft, smooth strokes. I have the sensation I’m floating above myself.

  “And you should stay away from the blithering idiot who doesn’t call you his ‘girlfriend’ and wants to keep things casual. This is also the kind who’ll never give you his Wi-Fi password.”

  I chuckle inwardly.

  “A guy who really cares for you wants to know all about you, about your baggage and will do his best to make you happy. He will call you, text you, he’ll go after you, he’ll find a way to let you know how important you are to him.”

  Right.

  “And you don’t want a know-it-all either, who’s never vulnerable around you, who’s not willing to show you his weaknesses and–”

  My breathing slows to a gentle and deep pattern as his fingers slide along the edge of my jaw, tracing the contours of my face, his words now only a distant murmur.

  Cradled in his familiar arms, I feel swept back in time. I’m melting in the warmth of his touch, in the soft, soothing tone of his voice. I’m drifting away.

  I’m going home. To the trusted chest you bury your head against and the arms you know will never let you fall. To the comforting place where you’re happy and whole. To the familiar space where you feel safe and summon the courage to face the challenges life throws your way. To the dimension where your true feelings lie, where you’re not afraid to speak about your dreams, to tell your secrets or reveal your deepest, darkest desires.

  Until the new day dawns, I’ll be where I’ve always longed to be. Back in his arms.

  *

  Dim light peeks out between the blackout curtains and for a moment I’m confused, disoriented. As my mind clears and I look around, it takes me only seconds to realise where I am and recall last night’s events, my senses immediately searching for Brian.

  Everything is still. Silent, absolutely silent.

  Crawling from the sofa in my wrinkled dress, I barely miss the swivel couch, nearly stumbling over it. Lying on it, my clutch and the CD that caused my near-meltdown last night.

  I check my phone, which reads 9:35 already. Then I hold the case, my nerves tingling as I read
the note I left many years ago.

  ‘Happy Birthday! And... Merry Christmas! I’m staying here for a couple more days. Call me.’

  My heart sinks. A sharp inhale and I thrust the CD back onto the shelf.

  Wandering into the corridor, I peek inside a few half-opened doors before I find his room. I tiptoe towards the bed without making a noise, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and sit by his side for a moment. Stretched out, he’s plunged into a deep sleep, breathing so evenly.

  My gaze trails over his broad shoulders and lean torso, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath. Studying his face, my mind tries to sort out this chaos inside, to make sense of the feelings coursing through me right now. It’s unsettling beyond words.

  His clothes are scattered on the chaise-longue at the foot of the bed, only his shirt lying on the ground. I pick it up. It still smells like him, the fresh notes of his cologne invading my senses and taking me back to the moment he pulled closer and kissed me.

  I touch my lips, still feeling his kiss there, and close my eyes, fighting against this overwhelming urge to wake him up. With another urgent, hard kiss.

  Stop it, Olivia! See it for what is, not what you want it to be, the little voice in my head screams, demanding I vow not to spend another sleepless night thinking about a man who’s not ready to give himself entirely.

  To say Brian once meant the world to me is an understatement; every piece of my heart belonged to this man and the awareness things ended the way they did, still hurts inside. But, as hard as it is, I cannot allow myself to cling to an illusion of something that’s not real.

  With my heart begging me not to, I stride back to the corridor with my arms around myself, to gain some measure of control over the dull ache growing inside, and close the door behind me, carefully.

  It’s the hardest thing to do, but it’s time to let him go now…

  Chapter Fourteen ~ Brian

  Scrubbing my face with both hands, I sink into the swivel couch, trying to bring some order to my mind. My knee is bouncing up and down in tiny jumps, a damned nervous twitch that makes me even wonkier. I make it stop, but my hand resumes its drumming.