making a big deal about it so I decide neither will I.
“Hey,” I say, “I got that bottle of blue in my room, whaddya say we crack that sucker, order a pizza and drink away all the shit behind us? All our mistakes, all the hurt, all the shit we’ve waded through to get to this point, everything?”
“That actually sounds like a nice idea,” she replies and so we do. We hole up in her room with our old friend Johnnie and we eat and laugh and forget about all the hurt we’ve caused one another. We wipe the slate completely clean. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about fucking her. I think about it at least a hundred times a day, and I could tell she was thinking about it too, but the point was that, for maybe the first time ever, we didn’t give in to that physical shit that always seems to fuck us over.
Sometime around 2 am she fell asleep in my arms and I tucked her under the covers and held her until I passed out.
That night I slept more soundly than I have in years.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Ana
I rest my head against the edge of the tub and try to think about something else. I always knew this day was coming. I said I was fine with it, but I’m not fine at all. I’m furious. I want to ride around town until I find his bike and go and give his new fuck buddy a brand new face. Preferably one with my fist-print in it.
This is the fourth week in a row he’s been out on a Friday night. The shop closed its doors hours ago, so I know he’s not working late. The same time I pulled the shop door shut and flipped the sign around, Elijah had been jumping on his bike. He gave me a wave through the window and took off in the direction of home, but just like last week and the two weeks prior, he wasn’t here when I pulled in the drive.
Jackson and Holly were getting ready to head to a movie when I walked in. They offered for me to come along, but I declined. No one wants to be a third wheel to a relationship as dysfunctional as theirs. I thought Elijah and I had it bad, but there just aren’t words for how messed up those two are. So, instead of sitting through two hours of awkwardness, I decided to drown my sorrows in vanilla-scented bubble bath, only with Elijah out screwing around I wasn’t feeling so damn relaxed. I was about ready to annihilate someone.
I hear the front door slam and begin thinking that maybe Jackson’s said something to piss off Holly before they’ve even made it out of town. The lights are on and the bathroom door is closed, but I haven’t bothered to lock it because I knew no one would be home before I’d begun pruning. I’m halfway considering standing up and scooting out of the bath to flip the lock in case an axe murder’s just walked through my front door when the bathroom door flings back on its hinges and Elijah comes striding in, angrier than a red-bellied black snake. He immediately begins toeing off his boots and socks. His back is to me as he lifts his shirt over his head and he hasn’t even noticed that the room is otherwise occupied.
I’m torn between watching the show and stopping him from shedding his remaining clothing when I feel a cough sneak out my throat, spoiling all my fun.
Elijah whirls around. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you were out.”
“Is that why you’re in such a bad mood, or did your Girl Friday call and cancel your date?”
“Girl Friday?” he asks, and both his dimples pop out. He’s holding his hand against his chest, which I guess isn’t all that odd, considering I did just scare him half to death. He takes a moment to drink in my body stretched out in the tub. I know he can’t see much on account of the half bottle of bubble bath I poured in but that doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. I know because I can see it in his eyes. “Where’s Jack and Holly?
“He took her cranky, pregnant arse out to a movie.”
“Like a date?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t ask any more. Holly and Jack are complicated.”
“Well, if anyone knows complicated, it’s you and me.” He laughs and runs his hand over the back of his neck and his newly cropped hair, which I think he is growing out again after I told him women like something to hold onto when they come. Hey, don’t judge me; I’d just consumed half a bottle of Johnnie Walker when he’d asked what I thought of his new cut.
“True.” I smile up at him.
“I’ll, ah … I’ll leave you to it,” Elijah says and turns to leave.
“You can take a shower if you want to. It’s nothing either of us hasn’t seen before.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’ll have the restraint to keep my eyes from wandering and my hands to myself.”
“Elijah, take a goddamn shower.”
“Still just as bossy as ever, I see.”
“Ha! I’m worse now than I ever was.”
“Alright, if you insist,” he says, and makes a move to undo his jeans but catches me staring and straightens up. “You keep looking at me like you want a taste, baby girl, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m gonna let you have it.”
My gaze shoots up to his smouldering one and I quickly avert my eyes. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Yeah, no shit,” he replies as his eyes trail over my pink flesh. He breathes deeply and turns around to remove his jeans and slip into the spray of the shower, which is situated directly in my line of sight. The clear glass does nothing to hinder my view of the hot water cascading down over Elijah’s perfect bum. He keeps his body turned away from me as he lathers and rinses and then he stands beneath the spray with his hands against the tile and his head bowed.
I could live a thousand lives and never forget the way he looks, the way it feels when his large, powerful body engulfs mine, the way I feel about him. All of him. Not just the good, but the bad too. I miss his hands on my body, I miss his mouth claiming mine with his own. I miss touching him and being touched and for once, my need to be claimed by him, completely, overrides the caution I have in my heart.
The desire to touch him is so great I don’t give myself a chance to second guess it as I quietly rise from the water and pad over to the shower. Opening the door, I step into the steam filled cubicle covered neck to toes in bubbles.
I see the moment that Elijah emerges from inside his own head and realises he is no longer alone. His shoulders stiffen, his head rises and he slowly turns to face me.
“Ana?”
Shock quickly turns to desire as his eyes slide over me and he wets his lips like he wants a taste too. I place my hands on his chest and push him back against the tiles. He places his too-large hand over mine and holds it to his chest. The skin beneath my palm feels hot and slightly raised. I begin to pull my hand away but he pushes it harder against his flesh, like he doesn’t want me to look.
“Let me see,” I say and when he shakes his head no, I plead.
Elijah closes his eyes and removes his hand. On his left pectoral is a new tattoo. Where there used to be a gothic graveyard scene with his sister’s name now sits an intricate antique-looking compass emblazoned right over his heart, but instead of sporting the traditional North, East, South, West icons a simple cursive A is written at each of the compass points. Beneath it are the words: “Conscience is a Man’s Compass”.
I tear my eyes off the beautiful tattoo—and it is beautiful, not just the sentiment behind it but the artwork, too. “When did you get this?”
“We finished the last of it tonight.” He looks down at me, like he’s expecting me to freak out. Instead I trace my fingers over the lettering with a wistful smile. “You didn’t wonder where I was going every Friday night?”
“I wondered. I just didn’t think it was my place to ask.”
“Ana, there isn’t a single thing you could ask of me that I would refuse.” He smiles down at me and my heart just about leaps out of my chest. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
I didn’t actually, but I don’t doubt his sincerity now as he says it.
“I love you,” I blurt out, and for the first time, I feel vulnerable telling him that. Since he got out all I’ve done is try to shove him into a box he never fit in to begin with. Elijah was never my friend. Someone that you love and
