Because of Lucy (12 page)

“I don’t think I can do slow. I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says, breath tickling my ear.

I giggle at the speed in which we undress each other. Clothes pile around the room as we step out of jeans, pull off tops and lose our underwear. Evan presses me onto the bed and I grab his muscled biceps, pulling him onto me. The heated thrill of his body against mine is only surpassed by the awareness of his arousal pressing against me.

Supporting himself on his elbows, Evan looks down, hair falling across his face. I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead he leans forward and covers my face and neck with butterfly kisses. Butterfly kisses which progress down towards my breasts. I wrap my legs around his hips and he stops, gently pulls away.

“Wait.”

Foil tears and I wriggle in anticipation. But he doesn’t slide into me, instead resuming his attention to my breasts. Once he’s kissed every available inch of skin, I’m shaking with need for him and finally he pushes himself inside me. As he does, he pauses looking down at me. His heart hammers against mine and he kisses my nose.

“I was wrong, you’re not hot,” he says, “you’re absolutely fucking awesome.”

The sensation of Evan holding still inside me is too much to bear. I grab his head and kiss him until our teeth collide, and I can’t breathe, all the while drowning in the urgency of his delicious movement inside me.

Afterwards, Evan supports himself on one arm and leans over me, face glowing in the dim light. I push damp hair from his face as he kisses me.

“You’re right, I wish every day could be like this,” he says.

I playfully bite his arm. “I told you.”

Lying down, he tugs me into his arms and squeezes me tightly, our naked bodies fitting together. I tuck the duvet under my chin, glad of the heat emanating from him.

“You know, I think this idea students are promiscuous is wrong.”

“Oh really? When did you change your mind about that?” He sounds doubtful.

“When winter came. It’s survival. It’s so bloody cold they need to huddle together for warmth. If they don’t find a partner quickly, there might be no-one left.”

Evan chuckles, “Yes, that’s exactly why. And I’ll warm you in your bed anytime you want.”

Waiting for the peace of the night to be shattered by Abby, we lie quietly, no need for words. Even if only a few days were like this. The rest of the world could be coped with.

Chapter 22

SPRING

EVAN

Ness changes everything. And I don’t want her to go.

Every time we’re in her room, I catch sight of the laptop and the taunting screensaver. She’s changed the display recently, so pictures from around the world scroll across her screen. Some days, I can’t ignore the fact she’s leaving soon and get snippy. Ness doesn’t understand why, and I can’t tell her how much I need her in my life. She’s escaped from controlling forces once, god knows I’ve been there. I have no right to interfere with her dreams. When she tries to talk to me about her plans, I increasingly change the subject. Ness isn’t stupid; she’ll figure everything out soon.

Lucy’s grip no longer suffocates me. I kept my word, returned to Lancaster every weekend, and she kept hers. A new psychiatrist helped - a new regime of medication and one she accepted. I don’t fool myself that this is over, fixed, but this is the longest she’s been stable in a very long time.

After Christmas, Lucy enrolled in college, following her dream to study photography. Channeling her creativity helps. So, her life moves on.

I failed most of my first semester exams. This wasn’t a surprise, the crisis and visits home ate away my time. Then in between, I filled my life with Ness more than I really should have. So, I’m reluctantly repeating the courses, feeling as if my own life hasn’t changed much. Ness insists my life has moved on huge amounts, but I can’t help resenting hers.

****

Ness’s birthday. Ness, being Ness, doesn’t want a fuss. Abby plans a wild night out and sometime I think Abby doesn’t get Ness at all. Ness avoids the student lifestyle still, the times I manage to persuade her to go with me to parties are rare. She won’t come out with me in the evenings if only students will be there. Sure, there’s plenty of other places in Leeds to hang out, and I guess this stops us from living in each other’s pockets completely, but I wish she’d involve herself with my friends occasionally. They think she’s snobby, but I don’t dare tell her.

Ness manages to put off Abby’s grand plans and I book a nice place to eat for just the two of us. We go to a lot of curry houses, sharing our love of Indian food, so I saved for a classier meal, at a restaurant away from the student suburbs.

Ness skips down the stairs of her house. She’s dressed up for the evening and I also picked out the best of the shirts I had, which isn’t saying much. When she appears in her green dress, skimming her knees and cut just a little too low for my peace of mind, I apologize for my poor attempt to dress up.

Pulling me close and squeezing my rear she tugs my ear lobe with her teeth. “I think that shirt makes you look very sexy - it’s the one I took off you the first night.”

I pull her hips towards me, hands on her backside. “Stop that, or we won’t leave the house.”

Ness giggle and she removes my hands. “I’m hungry, let’s go.”

The sun hovers around longer in the evening, and we leave the house in daylight for once. Spring moving towards summer, and warmer evenings. Summer. When Ness goes.

The restaurant is smartly furnished, the waiting staff in perfectly coordinated uniforms. Everywhere shines and the wall art isn’t peeling like the pictures in our usual haunts. The reds and
golds shine under the bright lighting. I suddenly feel underdressed.

“This is one country I’m definitely visiting,” says Ness as we’re halfway through our meal, looking at the photos on the wall. “India is amazing.”

My throat constricts around my food. Probably a good thing since I don’t want to spoil this evening by talking about her plans.

“I have your present.” I produce a gift-wrapped box. Distracting her.

“I said no presents.”

“Everyone says no presents.”

She crosses her arms. “I meant it.”

“Tough. I bought you something.”

Ness carefully unwraps the small box and gently removing the brooch from the tissue inside. A small silver butterfly, with delicate filigree wings. One of those crap moments follows, when you don’t know if the person likes what you bought them as Ness stares at the brooch.

“Evan, that’s beautiful.” She leans across the table and kisses me. I can just taste Ness through the spices on her lips.

“I know you don’t like fancy stuff, but I wanted something for you to remember me by.”

“Our butterfly days?” she smiles, pinning the brooch onto her dress.

I pick up the wrapping paper and fold it, pushing down the square into neat lines, not looking at her.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Butterfly days.”

Ness’s brows draw together. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

My stomach has turned over repeatedly since I sat down; I’ve no idea why I suggested a meal when every time I think about this I feel sick. But I can’t keep going with this unspoken event hanging between us. If my heart will be squeezed dry by her leaving, I’m no longer sure I can keep this up. I set my fork down.

“Did you book your flights yet?”

Ness’s hands hover over her wine glass, about to take a drink. “Not yet.”

“You’re still going?”

Her eyes widen, recognizing something in my face I’ve so carefully hidden. I thought I was better at hiding than this. “You know I am.”

My hand scrunches the serviette on my lap. Don’t spoil this. Don’t ruin her birthday. Don’t make her cry.

****

NESS

I touch the brooch pinned to my dress, the cool metal warming against my skin. A gift like the brooch speaks so much about Evan. The Evan who quotes poetry and pretends to be tongue in cheek, scared I’ll think him insincere. The guy who looks at me sometimes as if I might break.

Five months into our relationship and I feel as if Evan’s always been in my life. There’s a relaxed easiness with him; he lives his life and I live mine. Neither of us demands too much from the other; the boundaries around what we’re prepared to give are respected. We don’t see each other every day, don’t need to. I wouldn’t want to. The breathing distance between us this leaves is perfect, our relationship has a balance compared to the all-consuming relationships I see around me. Trust and comfort in what we have holds us together when we’re apart. When I compare this to the self-destructing and all encompassing neediness of some, I think we’ve got things right. Mostly. Apart from one thing.

Evan has never told me he loves me.

Recently, Evan confuses me, blows hot and cold, and the original, guarded Evan is sneaking back in. I’ve asked about Lucy, but she’s well, so now I’m worrying. The fact he’s never told me he loves me begins to eat at me for the first time.

There’s one thing I suspect is causing his mood changes and I think it’s about to hit us. I knew this conversation was coming and now we’re here. The number of times Evan cuts me short when I talk about my year away has increased. And every time we go into my bedroom, he shuts the laptop, hiding the screen saver photographs of exotic places.

“Are we finally going to talk about this?” I ask him.

“Maybe later.” He focuses on his food, pushing the rice around his plate.

“I want to talk about this now, I don’t want to sit through a meal with a cloud over our heads.”

Evan takes a drink. “Okay.”

“Ask me then. About my plans.”

Evan shakes his fringe away from his eyes. “When are you going?”

“June sometime. I’ve almost saved what I need, then I’ll book the flight.” Evan’s hand grips his glass, inhales. “Why is this such a surprise?”

“You haven’t talked about your plans recently. I didn’t realize you were going so soon.”

I fold the napkin from my lap and place it on the table. “You haven’t wanted to talk about any of this.”

“No.” Evan sets down his fork. “Because I don’t want you to go.”

My heart beats quicker, in anticipation of the oncoming conversation. Wow, he chooses his moments. “I’m coming back.”

“I know. But you’ll be gone for a year.”

He’s said he doesn’t want me to go. The words I wanted to hear, but so desperately didn’t want him to say. The pull to stay with Evan has become gravitational over the last few weeks, dragging me off course, away from my decision. Evan, who I’ve spent so much time with, who’s touched my life, filled a void and overwhelmed my world. But hasn’t given me the one last part of himself.

“Why?” I ask, pushing him to say more. Maybe tonight he’ll tell me.

He rubs an eyebrow. “Because I want you here. With me. I know, it’s selfish…”

Reaching across the table, I touch his hand. For once, his fingers don’t curl around mine. A cold tingle climbs down my back. “We should talk about this.”

“Yeah.” Evan removes his hand from mine and picks his fork up, resuming his meal.

My hand rests on the table, the cold sensation spreads through me. We’ve left this too long, fooling ourselves living day to day is enough for our relationship. Letting go of the past, living for each day makes perfect sense. But even though the future may come one day at a time, it’s never far away.

****

NESS

Evan is quiet on the walk back to the car after our meal. The evening cools to match the mood, and I rub my hands on my bare arms, my optimism about the spring evening being warm unfounded. In response, Evan wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him; I sink my head against his chest, hoping he’s not going to let me go. The atmosphere in the restaurant killed the mood of the evening, now is the right time to get everything out in the open. Otherwise the unsaid will eat away at the weeks we have left.

“Can we talk about this?” I say, stopping.

Evan’s arm stiffens around me. “I told you, I don’t want you to go. I’m selfish. I shouldn’t have said anything, forget it.”

Pulling from his embrace, I turn to him. “Why don’t you want me to go?”

“Because you’re a big part of my life now. Because I can’t imagine not seeing you for so long.”

He’s not saying what he needs to. I carry on, reaching his car, and lean against the door, waiting. He catches up in a few strides.

“Is that such an odd thing, Ness? When we spend so much time together?” Evan’s hands are buried in his pockets, his mouth thinning and I’d do anything to replace the look with a smile.

“What do I mean to you, Evan?”

“A lot.”

I bite the inside of my lip, knowing Evan still keeps his emotions tightly packed away, but he can’t do that anymore. Not now.

“A lot?”

Evan moves towards me, reaching a hand from his pocket to my face. His thumb brushes my cheek. “Everyone has a reason for waking up in the morning, and you’re mine.”

I turn my head and grit me teeth against what I need to say. Forced myself not to say for months, because the words sound so needy.

“You’ve never said you love me.”

Evan drops his hand and steps back. The cold sensation in my veins returns at the look on his face. “You need me to tell you that? To say ‘I love you’?”

His surprise unbalances me. “No, not if you don’t mean it.”

Evan rakes his hand into his hair, gripping on for a few moments. “I never saw you as someone to put significance in empty words. On Valentine’s Day you told me not to buy a card because it was an exercise on consumerism. ”

“No, I said people shouldn’t only tell each other how they feel on one day of the year. And they’re only empty words if you don’t mean them.”

Evan inhales. “Fine. But you’re being unfair.”

The more he says without giving me what I want, the heavier my meal feels on my stomach.

“I’ve said so many other things, so much more. I’ve told you how you’re the center of my world, my strength. The person who holds my heart when they hold my hand. You see into the dustiest corner of my soul and I’ve never let anybody do that.” Evan catches my hand, pulls it to him. “How many times have you felt my heart beating next to you, only for you?”

Through his shirt, his heart thumps against my palm and in his face a deep line creases his brow. He’s hurting, the dusty part of his soul he talks about is in his eyes.

“All the time,” I say hoarsely.

“Then why are we having this conversation? People say ‘I love you’ all the time and it means nothing. Throw away words. They lie. Love isn’t about how much you say ‘I love you’, but about how much you prove it’s true. I’m really surprised at you.”

I pull my hand away and step back. Unwanted tears are pushing behind my eyes and the goosebumps on my arms hurt now. One comment about me leaving and the evening turns to crap. “Take me home, please.”

Evan looks at me as if I’ve accused him of cheating on me. “And you? Have you ever told me you love me?”