Every Touch (14 page)

   “Thank you,” Laila said, stepping aside to let him in.

   “These are for you,” he said, handing the roses to her, “beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.”

   “Oh, please,” Denny said, rolling his eyes, “that is the worst line ever.” 

   She smiled and sniffed the roses.  “Thank you,” she said again, “would you like something to drink?”

   She turned away from him, taking the roses and laying them on the kitchen counter.  Denny sighed in relief.  At least she hadn’t kissed him.

   “Sure,” Avery said, watching her as she bent down to retrieve a vase from a base cupboard, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on her ass.

   “Hey!”  Denny strode over to him and flicked a finger at the side of his head. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

   Avery jumped and yelped, looking round and putting a hand to his temple where Denny’s finger had hit it.  “What the...?”

   “What’s wrong?” Laila said, straightening to look at him, a glass vase in her hand.

   Confusion contorted Avery’s face.  “I don’t... something hit me.”

   “Something hit you?  What?” She filled the vase with water and set it on the counter next to the roses.

   He was still looking around.  “I have no idea.”  He shook his head slightly and smiled at her.  “It’s nothing.”

   “Do that again and it will be more than a finger next time,” Denny growled, glaring at him.

   Avery strolled across the room, circumventing the kitchen island to stand next to Laila where she was arranging the roses in the vase.  He leaned against the counter.

   “You smell divine,” he said, leaning his head in close to her neck and taking a deep breath.  “What is that?”

   Denny was instantly at Laila’s side, hovering protectively and glowering at Avery.

   “Just soap,” she said, glancing at him.  “Are you sure you’re not smelling the roses?”

   He leaned in again and Denny fought the urge to drive his fist into the man’s face.

   “No, it’s definitely you,” he said. “It must be your natural alluring aroma.” 

   He took the opportunity afforded by their closeness to brush his fingers across Laila’s back and Denny saw her stiffen.  He waited for Avery to get the hint and withdraw his obviously unwanted attentions.  Instead, he placed his hand flat onto the small of her back. 

   Denny nearly exploded. 

   “Okay, that’s it,” he snapped, moving to step around Laila and remove Avery’s hand by force, possibly by separating it from his arm.

   Laila picked up the vase and stepped away. 

   “What would you like to drink?” she said, carrying the roses across the room and placing them on the table.  “I have lemonade or coke or fruit juice.”

   Avery straightened.  “Nothing with a little more kick?” he said, arching his eyebrows.

   She smiled at him.  “Sorry, no.”

   “I could run down to the off licence on the corner,” he said, “get us something.  How does Jack Daniels sound?”

   Jack Daniels?  Denny cursed.  The bastard was trying to get her drunk.

   “That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m not drinking tonight,” she replied.

   Denny smiled at her.  That was his Laila, strong, smart, and not taking any crap from this slimy jerk.  She’d obviously suffered a small lapse in judgement by going out with Avery in the first place, but there was no way she wouldn’t see right through him soon and tell him to get lost. 

   “Suck it, creep,” Denny said, walking away and going to stand at Laila’s side.

   “Are you sure you don’t want something to, you know, relax?” Avery said, smirking.

   Laila frowned.  “Are you feeling okay?”

   The smirk disappeared from Avery’s face.  “I’m feeling fine.  Why?”

   “You’re just behaving... you seem different, that’s all.”

   Something flickered across Avery’s face that Denny couldn’t put his finger on.  A micro expression that made him uncomfortable.

   “I’m sorry,” he said, smiling again, “I’m just a little nervous to be here.  You took my breath away when I saw you and I thought some alcohol might help me to relax.  But it’s fine, I’ll get over it.  Although I won’t get over how beautiful you look.  Lemonade would be great.”

   “What a load of BS,” Denny snorted.  “I can’t believe he thought you’d fall for that.”  He turned to Laila and was horrified to see her smiling at Avery, her expression softening.  “You’re
not
falling for that, are you?”

   “That’s okay.  And thank you,” she laughed, “again.”

   Denny watched her walk back to the kitchen area and take a bottle of lemonade from the fridge, pouring them two glasses. 

   He was nervous.  Surely she could see what a creep Avery was.  Couldn’t she?

   The oven timer pinged.

   “Dinner’s ready,” she said, reaching for an oven glove on the counter.

   “Let me,” Avery said, reaching for it at the same time.  Their hands touched and he looked into her eyes, his fingers lingering on hers. 

   She smiled up at him before withdrawing her hand.

   “Thank you,” she said.

   Denny’s mouth was hanging open. 

   “That’s the oldest move in the book,” he said, disgusted.  He knew.  He’d used it a hundred times when he was alive, although with infinitely more finesse.

   Avery took the meal from the oven while Laila arranged the plates and Denny went to sit despondently on the sofa. 

   It was going to be a long evening.

Denny wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else. 

   Watching Laila and Avery eat, talk and laugh together was a slow torture.  Every now and then Avery would reach over and stroke Laila’s hand and Denny would shudder with disgust.  He wanted to break every one of his slimy fingers with a mallet.  He entertained himself with thinking about where he could get a mallet in the building.  Clive Mason in eleven probably had one.  He was deeply into doing all his own repairs and improvements, on his home and his truck.  And even if he didn’t have a mallet, Denny could imagine any number of items he would have in his tool cupboard that could do Avery damage.  Severe and painful damage.  It was a comforting thought.

   Denny had heard of meals in ancient times lasting for hours, or days even.  He felt as though tonight could give them a run for their money.  By the time they finally finished eating, he wondered if it was still the same day.  Or the same week. 

   Avery picked up their plates and placed them in the kitchen sink.  Denny noted he didn’t offer to wash up.  He wasn’t surprised. Laila carried their glasses and dessert bowls, placing them beside the plates in the sink where Avery was lingering. 

   Suddenly, he was standing behind her and his hands were on her waist, pressing her forward against the edge of the work surface.

   “Oh, baby,” he groaned, “you are driving me wild.” 

   Denny leaped to his feet, startled by the sudden change in Avery’s demeanour.

   Laila gasped and turned.  “Avery, what...” 

   Her words were swallowed as he jammed his mouth onto hers.  Denny ran across the room towards them.  Laila pushed Avery away from her as Denny reached the two of them, and he stood back, breathing heavily.

   “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded.

   “Kissing you,” he said, frowning, “don’t tell me you didn’t want me to.”

   “I
didn’t
want you to,” she said.

  Denny hovered next to her, furious to the point of combusting, but unsure what to do.

   Avery laughed.  “You don’t expect me to believe that.  We’ve been dating for two weeks and then you invite me for dinner at your place.  I thought you’d finally come around.  I like you, you like me, what’s the problem?”  

   Her eyes widened.  “I told you I needed to take things slow.  You said you understood.  And dinner was your idea.”

   “I thought slow meant waiting for the third or fourth date before I fucked you,” he said angrily.  “You’ve been leading me on for two fucking
weeks
.  And I’ve been patient.  But enough is enough.”

   “Then get out,” she snapped.  “Just leave.”

   She was rigid, clutching the edge of the counter top behind her so hard her knuckles were turning white.  Denny could see how terrified she was.  It was taking every last drop of willpower to stop himself from tearing Avery apart. 

   “Get out,” he growled at him, “get out or I will kill you.”

   “You’re a real bitch, you know that?” Avery spat, shoving his finger at her. 

   Laila flinched, turning her face away from him.  His finger dropped and he turned away, walking a few steps then stopping, shaking his head. 

   “No,” he said, turning back towards her, his face contorted in anger, “after two fucking weeks you can’t tell me you don’t want this.” 

   It took two strides to bring him back to her as he raised his hand above his head.  She cowered away from him, raising her arms. 

   Without hesitating, without thinking, Denny stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.  Avery froze and looked up at his hand.

   “What the fuck?” 

   He tried to pull his hand away, but Denny’s hold was like iron.  Shaking with rage, Denny tightened his grip. 

   “How dare you threaten her,” he hissed. 

   He let go of Avery’s wrist abruptly and shoved him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards into the edge of the island.  Barely managing to stay upright, he scooted back around the island and into the living area beyond, looking around him.  He fixed his eyes on Laila who was staring at him in terror. 

   “How are you doing this?” he yelled at her.

   “Doing what?” she said, her eyes wide with fear.

   “It’s some kind of trick.” 

   He started back towards her, face filled with fury. 

   His head snapped round abruptly as Denny’s fist connected with his cheek and he fell backwards onto the floor. 

   Denny stood over him, panting.  The desire to hit him again, over and over, screamed through every muscle. But then he glanced back at Laila and saw her terror filled face staring at Avery on the floor.  He very deliberately uncoiled his fist and looked down at him.

   “Get out,” he snarled.

   Almost as if he could hear him, Avery scrambled to his feet. 

   “Fuck this,” he said, grabbing his coat and lunging for the door. 

   He pulled it open and threw himself through, running down the hallway and through the stairwell door.

  “And don’t come back!” Denny yelled, grabbing the door and slamming it shut. 

   He gasped, suddenly realising what he’d just done.  Turning around slowly, he saw Laila staring at the door, her eyes like saucers. 

   “Oh no,” he said.

   She pressed herself back against the fridge, gasping for breath, her eyes darting around the room in panic. 

   He brought one hand to his mouth.  “Oh no,” he repeated.

   “Is... is someone there?” Laila said, her voice shaking.  She shook her head.  “What am I saying?” She looked back at the door. 

   Denny could almost hear her thinking, trying to work out how the door could have slammed itself.  Not to mention what he’d done to Avery right in front of her.

   “Look,” she said, “I don’t know if I’m going crazy here, but everything that just happened...  That couldn’t have happened by itself.  And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if there’s someone there, you just saved me.  And...”  She stopped and he could see her clenching her fists, her body shaking.  A tear rolled down her face.  “...and I’m really scared right now.  So, please, if you’re there...” 

   She held out a trembling hand.

   Denny looked at it in fear.  He couldn’t, could he?  What if she freaked out so much she ran away and never came back?  He couldn’t bear to lose her.

   “Please,” she whispered, her hand still extended.

   But he couldn’t leave her like this, terrified and alone. 

   His heart pounding in his ears, he reached out his own hand, which was shaking more than hers, and touched her fingertips gently.  She gasped and immediately snatched her hand back, clutching it against her and looking around frantically. 

   After a few seconds, she swallowed.

   “I’m sorry,” she said, “I was just surprised.  I didn’t really expect...”  She held out her hand again.  “Please?” 

  He took a deep breath and lightly placed his hand on top of hers.  She gasped again, but instead of pulling away, she turned her hand over and gently wrapped her fingers around his.  He slowly closed his fingers around her. 

   And there they were, holding hands. 

   Denny couldn’t believe it.  He stared at their hands pressed together, every nerve where they touched feeling like it was tingling with electricity.  For the first time ever, he was touching the woman he loved.  A tear slid down his cheek.