Reaching the fridge he stops and looks over his shoulder at me, catching me staring. But I don’t look away.
“What?” he says, smiling his off centre smile.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “You just really remind me of someone I used to know.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, mildly interested. “Well, I hope he was startlingly good-looking and charismatic.” He winks at me before turning away and pulling open the fridge door, revealing its contents.
“He was,” I say quietly. “He was the best.”
There was never anyone one quite like Sol in my life, before or since. Well, not until now that is.
Chapter 10: Drunk Lips, Cause Slips
After dinner we go sit in the living room. I curl up on one of the leather chairs, sipping on my third glass of wine. Zeff sits across from me on the sofa I woke up on a few days ago looking relaxed with a glass of wine in his hand.
He’s dressed in a black long sleeved sweater and jeans, which look like they cost more money than I could earn in two months at the café. He changed out of his sweats just before he made dinner, and I changed into the spare pair of jeans and T-shirt I always carry in my rucksack, I didn’t fancy wearing my sweats all night either.
The fire is roaring to my left, the heat soothing on my skin, and I couldn’t be more relaxed if I tried. It’s crazy how comfortable I feel here with him, after such a short time knowing him.
Zeff is one of the easiest people I have ever met. He’s so uncomplicated, so open and inviting, and yet, I barely know a thing about him.
“Do you want some music on?” asks Zeff.
“Sure.” I smile.
“Any preference?”
“Nope.”
Leaning over he picks a remote control up from the side table. His sweater rides up and I catch a glimpse of his tight toned abs. Heat courses through me.
I take a glug of wine.
He points the remote in no particular direction and then I hear the music melt into the room. The Doors, Love Her Madly.
I’m impressed. My dad used to listen to them like they were his religion. Hearing this song reminds me of being in the car with him and my mum, driving to my Nan’s house on a Sunday afternoon.
Emotion starts to gather in my chest. Grief. Longing.
Then without warning a memory of Nathan in his Jim Morrison T-shirt flashes through my mind.
He’s leant up against his car, waiting for me. He’s taking it off in the woods …
I blink myself free from the memory and take another drink of wine.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Not that I’m not impressed, or dissing your taste in music in any way, because I’m not, all hail Jim Morrison. I actually grew up listening to The Doors. But I really didn’t figure you for this kind of music.”
His brows pull in together and he licks his lips. It’s distracting.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about me.” He winks. “Hands down the sixties and early seventies music was the best.” He clicks his tongue in mock-reproof. “The Doors, Rolling Stones, Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, all the good music came from then.”
“You see, and I had you figured as a Kenny G kind of guy.”
He lets out a deep throaty laugh. “Hey, don’t knock Kenny. Hot bubble bath and a glass of wine, Kenny playing in the background, I can really connect with my inner woman.”
I’m sipping my wine as he says the last part and I laugh, snorting, wine goes up my nose. I start choking.
“Attractive,” he chides, laughing. “You okay? You need me to get you anything, a glass of water …”
“No, I’m fine,” I wheeze, wiping my hand over my mouth, the coughs beginning to subside.
“Pig trough … ”
I snort again. This third glass of wine really is having the desired effect. “Stop it!” I chide.
“Bunnies and pigs, huh?”
“Hey,” I warn, holding a finger up in his direction.
“Merely an observation,” he says innocently, grinning at me over his wine glass.
I really like Zeff’s smile. I like that it’s crooked. That it diminishes his perfection. Makes him look more human, and not like something carved out of marble by God.
Okay, so now I know I’ve had too much wine when I’m thinking crazy shit like that. Well, seen as though I’m on crazy shit for brain and have had too much wine to care, I might as well ask what’s been bugging me for a while now.
“Zeff, can I ask you something?”
“Is it clean?” he asks with a salacious smile. “Because I’m not talking dirty with you.”
“Shut up!” I roll my eyes at him, but I can feel a flush rising in my cheeks. “I’m being serious.”
His gaze holds mine, “Oh you’re being serious. Well, okay, sure, I can do serious for a minute.”
I drag my hand over my ponytail, pulling it around the nape of my neck. “I know you're human, of course you're human … but well, it’s just … is there anything special about you?”
He lifts his eyebrow, part curious, part jokey. “There’s a lot that’s special about me – fancy narrowing it down a bit?”
“Well–” I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass. “Do you have any … powers of any sort?”
“Powers?” he echoes. “What do you mean, powers?”
“Just – can you do stuff that regular people can’t do?”
“Um … not that I know of.” A half-smile. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s just – every time I touch you, I get a shock – like an electric shock. It’s not so bad now; I’m kind of used to it after having so much contact with you while training. But it was a little weird at first. And the other day when we were talking about my attack I could literally feel your anger emanating out of you and coating onto me.”
And now saying it out loud I can hear how strange it sounds, but it’s also really true.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry, but that’s not coming from me. I’m just a regular guy. Nothing extraordinary about me, except for my damning good-looks that is.” A grin. “Are you sure it’s not just something about you – a Vârcolac thing?”
I’m looking at him intently, spying for anything. A flicker in his eyes or slight change in expression. An increase in his heartbeat. But nothing. He either has no clue, like he’s saying, or he’s really really good at hiding it. I can’t decide on which one it is yet.
I shake my head. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s only from you that I’ve ever experienced it.”
My voice is a little quieter now, the alcohol confidence waning.
He shrugs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not something I’ve heard of before.”
Zeff is a pretty open book, and if there was something special about him I think he would tell me. So it must be something to do with me. Around him. And now I feel kind of stupid bringing it up. I chug back on my wine until I drain the glass.
“More?” There’s a smile in his eyes.
God, I must look like a real alchy. But then again I don’t really care. The booze is numbing the part of my brain which makes life hurt just that little bit more.
“Sure,” I say.
Zeff drains his own glass and reaches over, retrieving the half-full bottle from the coffee table. I clamber forward in my seat, holding my glass out, allowing him to fill it.
He sits back and picks his own glass up to fill, then pauses. “Actually, I better not have anymore. I have to drive you home.”
“No.” I pause glass on lips “Don’t worry about me. I can walk – well run home.” Okay stagger. “It’ll take me five, ten minutes, tops.”
“Now, I know you can take care of yourself, Bun-” I give him a hard stare, cutting off his slip up. “Sarah,” he corrects. “But I’d feel a whole lot better if I drove you home.”
It’s kind of funny to hear him calling me Sarah; I’m so used to him calling me Bunny.
Then I realise I actually like him calling m
e Bunny. Or the wine does. Well either way, I’m never telling him that.
“I know. I just don’t want to spoil your evening because you have to drive me home.”
“I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.” He smirks that devilish grin of his.
My skin shivers, pleasantly. “Me either.”
I give an ironic snort holding my fourth glass of wine up. Oh God. Why do I keep snorting tonight? I rub my nose, embarrassed, realising how that could actually sound.
“I mean, I’m kidding of course – of course I’m having a good time.”
“You’re having a good time – with me?” His voice is warm, amused.
He’s trapped me there. I have this urge to say no, because he can be so confident, so cocky at times, and I hate for him to be right, because it is the truth. I am having a good time here with him.
I swallow nervously and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. Pressing my lips together trying to cover a rising smile, I say, “I’m having a good time.”
His smile deepens, filling out his eyes to a shade of breathtaking. It casts an unwelcome but warm shadow deep inside of me. “And you’ve managed to hold up a full conversation with me, lasting what – nearly two hours now, without having a go or yelling at me. That must be some kind of record.”
“Funny!” Relaxing, I pull a face at him. “You need keeping in check.”
“If anyone can do that it’s you,” he says dryly. I think I see the hint of a smile.
And once again, his words have an unnerving effect on me.
“Are you going to have that drink or not?” I say, slightly rattled,
“Well I’m not drinking and driving, and you’re certainly not walking home alone, so the only other option is if you stay here the night.”
His words thud into the room like a pair of heavy boots and stomp all over my good mood.
Dropping my feet to the floor, I sit up bolt straight. “Erm, I don’t think–”
“It’s a good idea,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “I thought we were past all that. I have a guest room at the bottom of the hall, far away from my bedroom, and it has a lock on the door just in case you’re worried I might try and seduce you in the middle of the night.”
There’s a level of forced humour in his voice. I guess I must be kind of irritating him by now. And also it makes me sound conceited and incredibly vain, insinuating he’s trying to get into my pants every five minutes.
A flush rises up my neck, hitting my face at record speed.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I’m stuttering. “I don’t think you like me – in that way – I know it sounds like I do but –”
“And if I do?” He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.
I’m confounded and heated by his gaze. The blood quickly drains from my head.
“Eh?” I squeak.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. I can feel my body heating from the inside out. Then laughter starts to shake in his chest, spreading throughout his whole body.
“I’m kidding! The look on your face! I get that you’re immune to my good looks and charm, but really I could never date a girl like you.”
“Too witty for you?” I smart.
His eyes alight with wicked thoughts. “Nah, way too high maintenance.” A grin. “Look, I know you feel like you’d be disloyal to your guy by staying over, but really it’s no big deal. Men and women sleep, platonically, in the same house together, all over the world. It’s nothing new. ”
My back has stiffened ramrod straight, thoughts tossing out all over my befuddled brain. “I never said I had a guy.”
“You didn’t have to.”
There’s a long, distinctly noticeable pause, where we’re both staring at one another.
“It’s the guy who saved you from the Vârcolac?”
It’s not a question, not really, because he already knows the answer. He knew from my reaction the other day when I dressed myself in coffee.
Deep breath. “Yes.” I wrap both my hands around my wine glass, interlocking my fingers.
Then just being here with Zeff, and him reminding me so much of Sol, it just forces to the forefront everything I have lost since the day I became this version of myself. The one that brought me to the point of being sat here with him.
Tears spring to my eyes. Closing them briefly, I will them back.
“Are you okay over there?” Zeff asks, concerned lacing his voice.
I open my eyes. His are still fixed on my face.
“Hmm.” I nod. “I’m fine.”
Zeff reaches over and places the bottle of wine back on the table, along with his empty glass.
“You don’t look it,” he counters.
“No, I am. I guess, I just find it hard sometimes …” I murmur, confounded by the direction of this conversation.
“You miss him?” he queries. I note the weariness in his voice.
I nod.
“Why did you break up?”
I smile. It’s not a happy smile. More of an ironic one. “We didn’t actually break up. To do that you’d have to have an actual relationship.”
“Ahh, he a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of guy?”
Now that makes me laugh. That’s not the way I would ever choose to describe Nathan.
“No.” I shake my still laughing head. “We never actually got to the relationship stage. Things were difficult.”
That’s putting it mildly.
I don’t even know why I’m talking to him about this. It’s the wine. Note to self. Never drink wine again. Drunken lips cause slips.
“Difficult – because you’re a Vârcolac?”
“That … amongst other things.”
Then from out of nowhere a tear leaks from out the corner of my eye, unexpectedly. I catch it before it falls too far. I don’t think Zeff notices. If he does, he has the courtesy to pretend he doesn’t.
“You loved him?”
“Mmm.”
“So why leave?”
“Because too many people had died already.” I pull in a deep breath. “His brother was killed trying to save me from Vârcolac’s. And I didn’t want him to die too. Being with me is …” I look straight into his eyes. “Dangerous.”
If I meant to scare him, I don’t. Seemingly, it just simply rolls off him.
“And he just let you go? Just like that.”
“No. I didn’t … erm … exactly tell him I was leaving.”
“Ahh.” He nods. His gaze is unwavering. “Do you think he’s looking for you?”
“At first, maybe. But not now, no.”
I might like to believe in an ideal world he is, but my world has never been ideal and I know he isn’t. Nathan stopped looking for me a long time ago.
“If I were him, I’d never stop looking,” Zeff say low, deep.
I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. I really don’t know what to say to that. I don’t think I’ve ever been as confused by someone as I am by him, right now.
Moving his heavy stare from me, he picks the wine up and fills his glass, emptying the bottle into it. Then picks his glass up and downs it in one.
Watching in confusion and wanting to clear the air of the tension I can feel coming from out him, I say, “You’re letting me walk home?”
I raise my eyebrow.
He pulls one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. “Nope. I’m just taking the choice away from you.”
“Ha!” I laugh in spite of myself. “You’re a confident son of a bitch.”
“Yeah and you’re a pain in the ass.” He stands up. “So you’re staying?”
I nod, yes.
“Good.” A smile. “You want any snacks from the kitchen? I’m gonna need some more food in me to soak up the amount of alcohol I’m intending to drink tonight.”
I raise a half-smile. It’s impossible to not smile at him, even in the weirdest of moments. I shake my head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”
Curling
my legs up onto the chair I watch Zeff as he walks over to the kitchen. I drag my stare from him, and down into the honey liquid in my glass, feeling an intense mixture of emotions, praying the wine has the answers to ending the eternal ache for Nathan I feel, and the sudden and very confusing attachment I seem to have developed for Zeff.
Chapter 11: Losing Battle
I wake with a start. Not because I’m not used to waking up in strange places, because I am, believe me, but because I’m waking up at Zeff’s place.
The night quickly regales to me.
Wine. Lots of wine. Bottles and bottles of the stuff. Then vodka and whiskey … possibly gin.
Blurgh!
It takes a lot of drink to affect me nowadays, but holy crap we drank a lot; I think we may have drunk Italy dry.
And boy I was wasted.
From what I recall, Zeff is a good drunk. A fun drunk. Me on the other hand, not such a great drunk. Emotional. I actually think I cried at one point. Oh God, and Zeff had to carry me to bed.
Double God.