Exit Stage Six: A Contemporary New Adult Romance Novella (4 page)

It was a couple of days before I saw him again and when I
did it happened to be as I was bolting out the door to go to work. I locked the
door and spun to crash down the stairs when I crashed into Evan instead.

“Woah!” his hands went automatically to my hips to steady
me.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I blurted.

“It’s okay.” He gave me a rakish grin, “It’s just me…” his
expression sobered as he took in my appearance.

“Going to work?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I said. He nodded gravely, eyes roaming me from head
to toe. I wore skin tight unrelieved black. Comfortable black non-slip shoes,
black leggings and a fitted black top that accentuated what cleavage I could
get out of my chest. My makeup was heavier than I liked. Kohl rimmed eyes with
dark shadow and clear lip gloss. I had to stand out in the dim light and from
behind the mask while I worked behind the bar at the club. No joke, we had been
taught how to do our makeup for work.

“Evan.” I whispered.

“Yeah L.B.?” his voice was husky.

“I’m going to miss my bus.” I said.

“Yeah, sorry.” He swallowed and let go of my hips and I
instantly missed the warmth of his hands there.

I went down the stairs and began to cross the courtyard when
he called out from the open air landing…

“London!” I turned.

“Come up to my place when you get home.” He said.

“I don’t know Evan, I’m exhausted and I don’t get home until
almost three thirty and that’s only if I can get a ride…”

“I’ll be up. Just… please, come up…” he said.

“Okay.” I reluctantly agreed.

I barely made my bus.

~*~

I trudged up my stairs after a long shift and stopped in
front of my door. I threw back my head, shoulders drooping and groaned. I’d
promised Evan, but damn was I tired. I stood still for a moment or two at war
with myself before finally dragging myself up the final flight of stairs.

The door opened almost immediately upon my light knock.

“Hey.” He said, standing aside.

“Hey.” I said softly in return and brushed past him. He shut
the door behind us and trudged barefoot into the apartment.

“Come on in, sit down.” He said and I did as directed
realizing belatedly that there wasn’t any place really to sit.

I sat down on the edge of the futon and looked up.

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”
I asked and immediately winced. That had come out bitchier than I’d meant it
to. He smirked.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean and I’m sorry, I just
really wanted to do something nice for you.” He knelt by my feet and took off
my shoes and socks.

“Lie back.” He ordered softly and without thinking about it
I complied.

He went over somewhere to my left and returned with his
acoustic guitar.

“Come up here and get comfortable.” He patted the pillows
and I groaned. He laughed a little.

“I promise, once you get comfortable this time I won’t make
you move for the rest of the night if you don’t want to.” I hauled myself up
and laid out properly beside him.

“I wanted to play this for you.” He murmured and got the
guitar in position. I rolled my eyes over and tilted my head to look up at him.

“Okay…” I said and he closed his eyes and began to play.

My heart stopped in my chest as the sanguine notes of
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the small apartment.

“Oh my God…” I breathed.

A faint smile played on Evan’s lips, lashes dark crescents
against the smooth pale skin below his eyes as he played. He opened his eyes
and his smile grew marginally when he took in my expression. I didn’t dare to
breathe.

I listened and he played. I remained completely still while
the notes floated seemingly effortlessly from his fingertips. Tears gathered in
my eyes, that he bothered to learn it caused my heart to constrict within my
breast. That he played it so sweetly for me, so flawlessly… I swallowed hard and
felt the stirring of something big in my heart.  I closed my eyes and he played
on, the final notes drifting into the deepening night, silence descending on
the apartment.

I left my eyes closed, savoring the moment. He was still
beside me for long moments and then came the rustle of cloth, the dull sound of
him setting the instrument aside. Stillness, silence and the rustle of cloth
came again. His breath was warm against my lips and my eyes flew open as his
touched mine, soft, chaste, asking permission.

I debated for only a heartbeat before opening to him. His
mouth was warm and firm against my own, I drew in a shuddering breath. He
tasted of his clove cigarettes, spicy and underlying that masculine. His hand
grazed my ribs, smoothing down along the black of my top, dipping under the
hem, calloused fingers warm and rough against my skin as he moved beneath it.

I whimpered softly into his mouth and he swallowed it with a
throaty moan that had me melting. He drew back from the kiss with a gentle nip
to my bottom lip and looked me in the eyes.

“I told you I would kiss you.” His tone was deep and dark,
decadent and I smiled.

“Yeah, you did.” I whispered back, afraid of shattering the
moment.

He brought his lips back to mine and heat unfurled from my
middle, traveling languorously through my veins, stealing the breath from my
lungs. My panties grew damp and though I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, I
wanted him.

I wanted Evan Lake to touch me, wanted to feel his lips on
the most intimate parts of me… I dragged in a slow breath and he broke away
from me.

“God you make it hard to breathe.” He growled.

“So do you.” I uttered.

“You better go London, or I’m not going to stop.” He said
gently. I nodded but didn’t move.

“Please…” and it was the note of pleading in his voice that
got to me. I sat up.

“I won’t stop and you deserve so much better than what I am
right now.” He swallowed hard.

I stood up and picked up my meager pile of belongings.

“I’ll leave the window unlocked.” I said, before slipping
out the door. His noncommittal grunt was his only reply.

I went into my apartment and was good at my word. I
immediately went and made sure the window was unlocked.

I let out a shuddering sigh and stood for a moment,
fingertips pressed to my hot and swollen lips. God he was hot. I bowed my head
and got myself together before changing for bed and washing the remnants of
makeup off my face. I got under the covers and switched out my bedside lamp,
wishing he would come.

He didn’t that I know of.

I was so tired that I slipped into a deep and dreamless
sleep.

Stage 4

Depression

I didn’t see Evan again for almost a week after that night
and I think my heart broke from it a little. I tried to tell myself with
conviction that it wasn’t me, but uncertainty and insecurity gnawed at me.

Finally, on my way to class one morning I saw him, out on
the landing, cigarette between his fingers, staring off into oblivion once
more. He turned to look at me and his expression was drawn, shuttered. I chewed
on my bottom lip and finally turned to lock up my apartment.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He said. I turned and arched a
brow.

“You… It’s like you know what I need even when I don’t. You
give me space to figure things out and I know… Fuck I know this has got to be
playing Hell on you…” he stopped and looked at me helplessly.

“Are you done?” I asked softly.

He blinked, deliberately.

“London…”

“Because if you’re done I really need to get to class.” I
said. I was torn up. This
was
playing Hell on me whatever this was we
had going on between us. I was incredibly attracted to Evan Lake, but I had to
admit to myself we didn’t know dick about each other and his rejection had
hurt, even as well intentioned as he’d claimed it to be.

“No I’m not done.” He said, flicking his cigarette over the
rail, he stalked toward me and for the first time I was a little bit afraid of
him, I backed up against my door and he crushed me to it, mouth covering my
own. I was still beneath him, didn’t try to kiss him back. Confusion wrapped me
in a strangle hold. He drew back enough to look me in the eyes.

“I want you so bad it’s killing me.” He whispered and I
closed my eyes because I sort of knew the feeling. My hormones were up and
doing the samba through my bloodstream. I felt my panties dampen at his mere
proximity.

“I want you London, you’re beautiful and you treat me better
than any woman has ever treated me before. You haven’t asked me for anything
except basic respect which I haven’t been able to give you and that makes me a
real dick. You deserve better than the likes of me…” he bowed his head and
raked his hands through his hair.

“I need to sort my shit out.” He sad at last and backed away
from me.

“Yes. You do.” I agreed and started down the stairs,
stopping midway down the flight. That was a shitty way to leave things, even if
I was hurt or confused by him… I had to be better than this and so I spoke:

“I’m still here if you need me Evan.” I said it quietly but
I know he heard me by the sharp intake of breath.

“London…” he said but I finished my decent and took the next
flight twice as fast, bursting out into the courtyard.

“Son of a bitch…” I heard him curse from the second floor
open landing. I didn’t turn back. He’d hurt my feelings by ignoring me but to
some degree I understood. I was still here. I wasn’t going to give up. Neither
was I going to be a doormat though… Was I?

What a fucking mess… Here’s to hoping that things would have
a way of straightening themselves out with minimal emotional wreckage.

~*~

The next afternoon I was at my computer retouching photos
for a project when I heard the pounding start. A masculine voice was calling
out to someone and I rolled my eyes.

I was staring at the first photo I had ever taken of Evan.
He was on the landing, and I was carefully adding color to the black and white
image, using the color photos of him in my bed for reference. Coloring just his
tattoos. The pounding was becoming relentless and obnoxious until finally I
couldn’t take it anymore.

I threw down my stylus onto my desk and went out my door.

“Come on!!” a man called from upstairs and began his
hammering again.  I looked up and blinked, he was pounding on Evan’s door and
after over a month of him living here was the first person I’d ever seen
besides the blonde.

He was dressed in leather pants and a leather jacket.
Flannel red and black checkered shirt peeking out from below the worn biker
jacket which had metal pyramid studs on the shoulders and along the lower back
panel. He kicked the door with a heavy booted foot and I jumped.

“Evan’s not home.” I called and he turned. He was bald but
young. His light colored eyebrows shot up and a slow grin spread along his lips
as his gaze wandered from my head to my feet and back again.

“What’d you say sweetheart?”

“I said Evan isn’t home. He went out last night and hasn’t
come back yet.” I swallowed.

“Evan…” he said, “Right…” and I frowned.

“If I see him, who shall I say is calling?” I said. The man
laughed.

“Well that would be awfully nice of you sweet heart, what’s
your name?” he leaned against the railing and looked down at me. His eyes were
blue and twinkled with laughter. I got the vague impression he was making fun
of me or trying to flirt and I frowned.

“I’m London.” I said, “And you are?”

“Hal. Nice to meet you London.” He came down the stairs and
stuck out his hand. I shook it and he let it go. I took a step back towards my
open apartment door.

“You know… Evan… well?” he asked.

“Met him the night he moved in.” I said, pursing my lips.

“He’s a good guy.” Hal said.

“Yes he is.” I murmured, keeping the
for the most part
I wanted to add on silent.

“You talk?” he asked.

“I’m not sure how that’s any business of yours Hal.” I
smiled but it wasn’t friendly. He put up his hands and took a step back.

“Easy there tiger.” He said and smiled, and mine softened
marginally.

“I’m…Evan’s… bandmate. Drummer.” He stumbled over Evan’s
name again and I frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I said.

“Sorry? For what?” he asked, perplexed.

“Evan told me about his friend D. Said they were in a band
together, if you’re the drummer that means you were D.’s friend too…” I crossed
my arms and he blinked at me bewildered.

“He talked about D.?” he asked.

“Sometimes… not much and not often but yeah.” I said
quietly.

“Wow, we haven’t been able to get word one out of him about
it.” he said.

“Can I say something without you getting upset?” I asked.

“Sure.” He ran his hand over his scalp and palmed the back
of his neck. It was so reminiscent of Evan that I couldn’t help but smile
genuinely.

“Please understand that I speak from experience here… There
are five stages go the grieving process. They don’t come in any particular
order, they aren’t any of them pleasant… They just are what they are and you
can’t go around them or skip any of them, you just have to go through them,
feel them all and come out the other side. That’s his reality right now, and he
needs people strong enough to hold him up through the worst parts. You can’t
make him talk about it, you can’t make him feel these things; they come in
their own time. All you can do is be there to listen when the floodgates do
open.” I said gently.

He considered me, searching my somber face for long moments
while my words sank in.

“That’s what you do for him?” he asked.

“I try.” I said honestly, adding, “He certainly doesn’t make
getting close to him easy.”

“No, no he does not.” Hal let out a gusty sigh.

“I’ll let him know you were here.” I said finally, sticking
out my hand. He took it and I squeezed lightly.

“I really am sorry for your loss.” I murmured.

“Thanks.” He said and I saw a glimpse of his raw naked pain.

I went back into my apartment to the chorus of his booted
feet tromping down the stairs…