Authors: Samantha Towle
Original Sin (7 page)
For a moment I can’t stop staring at him. His eyes lock and widen in my gaze. Awakening, I blink myself free.
Shifting in my seat I pick my pizza up and put it straight back down. I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. I’m like a recent quitter of cigarettes who’s going through that ‘no clue what to do with my hands’ phase. I just keep picking up things on the table; the pepper shaker, my knife, the napkin, and putting them straight back down.
I can see Zeff eyeing me curiously. I force my hands onto my lap, binding them together.
“Thanks,” I finally say. My voice has gone hoarse. I cough my clogged throat clear, then take a sip of water.
His eyes are still on me.
I’m not sure what to do. I just feel really awkward. The moment’s gone from shitty, to light, to ridiculously intense in the space of ten seconds. It’s like having a conversation with Nathan.
Nathan
.
Oh no. I’m already wide open, so when that familiar pang of longing for him hits, it stabs me hard in the chest, rocking me to my core. And I’m right back to square one.
I’m losing my breath. I can’t breathe. I can feel blood rushing to my head, ringing in my ears, making me hot.
I stand abruptly. My chair scrapes loudly against the hard floor. Zeff’s dark eyes follow me up, with an expected element of surprise. I know just exactly how weird I’m acting right now. And also what he must be thinking.
That I’m odd. And a bit nuts. He wouldn’t be far wrong. But I also don’t care at this very moment, either.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I thumb awkwardly over my shoulder, practically tripping over my own feet as I hightail it to the ladies room.
I splash cold water over my face from the tap as I try to regain so"0"me composure. What the hell was that all about? A kind word from a nice guy and I’m shot all over the place like a rogue bullet.
Not that I’m not well aware I’m already slightly crazy, but I am now starting to believe I’ve lost my shit completely. I just wish I was past this; past Nathan. I’m driving myself nuts.
Sometimes I feel like he’s in my head, to the point of haunting me. If I didn’t know better I would think he is a ghost, because I see him everywhere and in everything.
I’ve been pretty sure on a decent sized handful of occasions that I’ve seen him in the street, or when passing by a shop window, seeing his reflection clearly in it.
I know it’s just because he is in my head constantly but it doesn’t make it any easier.
When I left that night, I did it believing that I could live without him, in the knowledge that he was safe and alive. Turns out I actually can’t live without him, period.
Just knowing he’s out there, living his life, is way more difficult than I ever anticipated. I want him to be happy, sure I do, that’s the reason I walked away. But that doesn’t mean the thought of him happy, without me, doesn’t make me feel like complete and utter crap.
After six months of no contact with Nathan, any normal person would be over him, or at least have had it lessen their feelings for him to a huge degree. But no, not me. I still feel exactly the same about him as I did back then. I’m still completely and ridiculously in love with him. Or maybe now, I’m just in love with the idea of him. I don’t know.
All I do know is, mentally, I’m still stuck in that hotel room with my hand on the door handle, teetering between the room with Nathan in it, and the big bad world without him. I know I somehow managed to get my skinny ass physically out of that room. Now I just need to get my heart to follow too.
If I were an outsider looking in at me, I’d think I was seriously pathetic and would have slapped myself stupid by now. I need the sense beaten into me until it sticks.
Splashing cold water on my face again, I wash away my thoughts. Grabbing paper towels out of the unit beside the sink, I dry my face. Allowing myself a few deep cleansing breaths, I dump the paper towels in the bin and exit the bathroom, heading back to Zeff.
A waiter is standing at our table with a card machine in his hand; a different guy from the one who served us I note, and Zeff is currently paying the bill.
He looks up as I approach, “You okay?”
Briefly meeting his eyes, I nod. “Yes.”
Then I notice our table has been cleared. They’ve taken the half a pizza I had left. Gutted. But then again I don’t think I could have finished it with the way my stomach is churning over. Still, a doggie bag would have been awesome, you know, so I could eat it later.
“The remainder of your pizza is being boxed up,” Zeff says, almost if as reading my mind.
“Oh, great, thanks.” That actually raises a smile from me.
“We can head over to my lodge now if you want to get started on that … thing?” he says, as I sit back in my seat.
I know he was just trying to be discreet in front of the waiter, but the way he said it makes it sound like an innuendo. Which it is, kind of, but not the type the waiter clearly thinks it is, because from the looks he’s casting between me and Zeff, I take it he speaks English, and well.
So yes, I’m pretty sure he thinks Zeff and me are off to have sex after this. I mean, really, as if Zeff would be so open about it if we were actually going to, or maybe that’s the kind of clientele they’re used to in here. And even though it’s not true, I can feel my cheeks starting to burn.
I’m getting that guilty feeling thing happening, you know the one where you know you’re not guilty of something but you can’t help but worry people will think you are, so your face goes bright red, incorrectly incriminating you. Yep, that’s what’s happening right now.
And now Zeff has latched onto it, because I can see the amusement spreading across his features.
I pick my water up and take a sip trying to cool my face, using it to hide behind.
Zeff takes his credit card back from the waiter.
“So,” he says to me, in an even tone, “have you got everything you need with you for the …
party
?”
“Huh?” I utter, my lip stuck on the glass.
He’s looking at me evenly, “You know.” The waiter is lingering near the table, in the pretence of doing something on the card reader, blatantly listening in. “The things you need to get started - the rubber tubing … wet wipes … oh yeah, and the spade.”
I choke on the little bit of water in my mouth. The waiter snorts. I glare at him. He quickly walks off.
I stare at Zeff, “What did you say that for?”
“What?” he shrugs, feigning innocence, a smile playing on his lips in innocence.
I shake my head, clearly pissed off.
“You shouldn’t have said that. He could take what you said seriously. I can’t have people finding out what I am,” I hiss over the table.
“Come on Bunny, I was just playing. He thought we were hooking up for something kinky and I was just winding him up, nothing more. Don’t worry.”
“More like winding me up,” I snap. “And I do worry.” I lean forward. “Because I have to. All the time.” I sit back, shaking my head, adding, “That was a wanker’s trick you just pulled then.”
And yes, a waiter has just come with my pizza box as I said the word, wanker. A different waiter this time. And at least this one has the courtesy to pretend he didn’t hear, or maybe honestly doesn’t speak English.
Zeff starts to laugh.
My face is bright red. “It’s not funny,” I say, clearly hacked off.
“It kind of is.”
“Fuck off.” I pull a stern face at him.
“Lighten up, Bunny. It won’t hurt you to laugh every once in a while. It might actually make you feel better.”
“I’m just fine as I am.”
I stand up.
“Are you coming or not?” I huff, grabbing my pizza box and rucksack, I turn and stalk off toward the exit.
I’m sure Zeff’s current and sole purpose in life is to wind me up. He is beyond annoying at times.
“Sorry,” comes his deep voice in my ear, “I was just having some fun.”
“At my expense.”
“No.” He touches my arm stopping me.
His voice sounds really intense. I don’t like the feeling it gives me.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” I reply, shaking him off. I continue toward the door. “And I do laugh,” I add, glancing up at him. “When there’s something worth laughing about.”
“Guess I’m just going to have to find out what exactly it is that makes you laugh then.” He stares down at me with dark eyes.
I shift uncomfortably and clasp the pizza box to my chest like a shield.
When we get in his car I reach into my bag for money. “I need to pay you for my half of dinner.”
He waves me away. “Dinner’s on me. You need your money for the passport.”
“No really, I want to pay my way.”
“Bunny,” he gives me a stern look. “Just let me pay for dinner, okay? You’re not breaking any feminist rule by doing so.”
I screw my face up. “I’m not a feminist.” I drop my bag back down in the foot well. “I just like to pay my way is all. I’m not a leech.”
“I got that for sure,” he chuckles.
He turns the engine on and I glance sideways at him.
“You’re a funny guy, you know,” the words are out before I can stop them.
“Was that you paying me a compliment, Bunny?” he puts his hand to his heart, feigning cardiac arrest.
I purse my lips. “Um, no not really. But you can take it that way if like, as I need to ask a favour … or two.”
“Shoot.”
I glance down at my work clothes. “Would it be okay if you take me home first before going to your lodge? I need to change out of my work clothes. I want to keep the spare set in my bag clean.”
“Sure … and favour number two?” he asks, putting his hand behind my seat, so he can turn to see clear as he reverses out of the parking spot.
“I need to go to the supermarket.”
“For?”
“Water bottles.”
Swinging the car around, he shifts into first, giving me a curious look with his eyes on their way back to the windscreen.
“To empty out and fill up with blood,” I explain.
“Ah, sure, right. No probs,” he smiles. “To the supermarket it is.”
I settle back into my seat, resisting the urge to finish this pizza off, my appetite returning. I need to save my hunger for hunting.
Chapter 7: New Horizon
Walking up the porch steps to the lodge I knock on the door, putting my now full backpack down on the wooden floor.
Zeff was right, these woods are brilliant for hunting. I got everything I needed, enough blood bottled up to keep me going for a good while.
He swings the door open.
He changed his clothes while I was out hunting. He’s wearing sweats and a running vest, and looks really different. I’ve only ever seen him in his smarts; shirts and trousers.
The casual relaxed look suits him. And I was right; he is as toned and muscular as I thought he would be under his shirts. His skin really is a lovely colour; the shade of caramel.
“You should have just let yourself in,” he says with a warm smile.
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“So you’re all done?” he says.
“Yeah. I just thought I’d stop by and let you know I was going.”
He leans his shoulder against the door frame. Giving me a funny expression, his eyes set on my face, he tilts his head to the side as if contemplating me.
It’s making me feel a little uncomfortable to be honest. I shift on my feet. I’m just about to ask him ‘what?’, when he takes a step through the doorway, closer to me, and reaches his hand up to my face. He rubs his thumb across my cheek.
The instant his skin makes contact with mine a sensation jolts through me. Like a current zapping through me from touching an exposed wire. I feel shocked. Literally. Physically.
It’s the exacweat same feeling I had in the café when he shook my hand. I feel wired. Like there’s a magnetic charge pulsing through me. And in some ways it’s so familiar, like I’ve always experienced this sensation, like he’s always been touching me.
I take a huge step back, a whoosh of air leaving my lungs.
“Blood.” He holds his thumb up showing the evidence, obviously seeing my reaction.
But my reaction is not for the reason he thinks. It’s not because I’m cautious of being touched by a man.
It’s because the guy is able to physically shock me every time he touches me.
It’s weird. And kind of worrying.
It certainly wasn’t just a static shock like I tried to make myself believe the first time it happened. But I do get the distinct impression he doesn’t get the same reaction when we make contact. I can tell from the way his heart rate stays steady. There’s no fluctuation in it at all.
And it certainly isn’t an emotional reaction like I would get every time Nathan would touch me. This is physical. Like he has high voltage electricity running through him.
