Spark (14 page)

M & M’s. A shitload of them.

I raid the cupboard once more, and return to bed. I’m not leaving my room today, nor am I getting out of my pyjamas.

I’m in mourning.

I’ve lost my best friend, a friendship so important to me, gone just like that. It hurts more than I’d ever thought it could. Had I known it would feel like a million needles stabbing repeatedly in my chest, I would have tried harder to talk him into staying friends. I could have made him understand. He didn’t even come after me when I ran out, and hasn’t sent so much as a measly text. And that look of hate will stay with me forever.

I’ve been cradling my phone just waiting for something. Maybe he’ll reconsider. Jon seems so far away from me when he’s
always
been close. He might as well be in a foreign country.

Some girl will be lucky to have him one day, but I know in my heart I did the right thing. No matter how fucking badly it hurts.

I send Cassie a text, telling her I have a migraine, and I won’t be in on Monday. At the very least, I need a decent night’s sleep before I can focus on work, and not the turmoil that is my life.

****

On Wednesday, I drag myself out of bed and go to work. Everyone is concerned about me. Theo tells me to take another day off if I need to. I know I look dreadful. At least I’ve convinced them I wasn’t well enough to be at work.

At lunchtime, I tell Cassie I broke up with Jon, but it’s all I can manage. She probes for more details, but I tell her I don’t want to talk about it. For the rest of the week she gives me space, occasionally offering me a supportive smile. The happy smiling faces of our clients only seem to mock me, reminding me how truly miserable I am.

I’ve managed to steer clear of Crystal this week, her, too, believing the migraine story. By the time Friday night comes around, I’m a bit more in control of my emotions. Work has been a welcome distraction. Three days of moping in my room was exhausting, and wasn’t getting me anywhere. By six o’clock, I’ve already polished off half a bottle of wine. With wine, comes numbness. The incessant attack of those micro-needles in my chest, don’t hurt nearly as much.

“What’s on tonight, Crystal?” I raise my glass to her as she walks in the door.

“You must be feeling better,” she says, and smiles as she puts her bags down. “No plans, just staying home. I was hoping to catch up with you. It’s been a long week.”
Don’t I know it
.

“Well, you’d better get a glass. It’s time for a drink.”

She takes a glass from the cupboard and joins me at the table. “Oh, shit. I forgot. A letter came for you. Sorry, it’s been in my handbag all week.”

“Thanks.” I open the crinkled envelope. A glossy card inside boasts the opening of one of Canberra’s hottest new bars. I flip it over. Scrawled on the back in blue ink is the word
Alex
.

Does he really want me there? He’s probably only asked me to add to the numbers. I toss the card towards the end of the table. Regardless of Alex’s motives for inviting me, I’m not going.

With music filling the apartment, we nibble on cheese and crackers, and drink glass after glass of wine. Once Crystal’s had a drink, there’s no stopping Miss Chatterbox. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask about Jon, and I don’t volunteer anything. She raves about Aidan’s party, and how much I was missed, whatever that’s supposed to mean. We go to bed some time after midnight. The room spins as my head hits the pillow, and I have to move my heavy head from side to side until the urge to throw up goes away.

****

My phone beeps loudly, scaring the shit out of me. I fumble for it on my bedside table. My eyes strain to read the message, my mascara clumping my lashes together. The text is from Bridget, a friend from uni. I haven’t seen or heard from her in ages.
Why is she texting me?
Oh, wait … did I text her last night? Drunk-texting can be dangerous.

Missed you girl! We’ll pick you up tonight at 8.
Caz and Megan are coming too. Tonight we are going to PARTY! x

I flip up to the message I sent her at 11.36pm.

Let’s get blind rotten dunk. Saturday god for you?

Nice one, Eevie
. I can’t help but laugh. She must have known I’d had a few. I know I can rely on Bridge for a big night out. The last time we went out was years ago. It’ll be great to see the girls again.

****

It’s about one am, and the girls and I are calling it a night. It’s been a big night of drinking, dancing, and telling stories. It’s exactly what I needed, although waking up to another hangover doesn’t excite me. I worry about that tomorrow, or rather, today.

As we wait in the taxi queue, bright lights in a bar across the street catch my eye. I hadn’t noticed it there before. I recall the invitation Alex sent me for the opening of his bar.
Was that tonight?
I wasn’t going to go, but now I’m intrigued.

Through the large glass windows, I can see Alex behind the bar, writing on a clipboard—presumably taking inventory. By the looks of it, he is alone.

“Girls, I’m just gonna say hi to someone,” I say, unable to move my eyes from Alex’s direction.
And all things going well, I won’t be back.
I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I’m feeling … brave.

“Who is it?” Caroline asks, staring towards the bar.

“Um, his name is Alex. He’s kind of an ex.”

“Oooh,” all three say in unison, and then giggle.

“Ha ha,” I reply, giving them a cocky smirk.

“Are you catching a cab with us? Do you want us to wait?” Megan says rubbing my arm. She is such a worry-wart.

“Nah, you guys are heading in the other direction. I might see if Alex can drop me home. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bridget says cheekily.

“That wouldn’t leave much Bridge,” I say and giggle, recalling some of the wild stories she shared tonight. We exchange hugs and kisses. “I had a great time tonight. So good to see you guys.”

“You too, Eevie. Let’s do this soon, okay?” Caroline squeezes me tight. Geez, I miss being at uni.

“Definitely … bye,” I yell out as I cross the street. I take in a few deep breaths, and try to compose myself. I hope I can play it cool. I am
not
going to be the puppy dog I was last time.

With nervous energy pumping through me, I smooth my hair back using my sweaty palms, press my lips together, and straighten my top and skirt.
Here goes
.

I tap on the glass door. A smile spreads across my face as he glances in my direction.
I best not look too eager
. I press my lips together, and try to play it cool. Alex raises an eyebrow as he moves towards the door and unlocks it. We stand eye to eye, me in my ridiculously high heels. He looks smart in his slim-fitted white shirt, sleeves rolled up, black tie, and jeans. Not a strawberry-blond hair is out of place. He’s clearly been spending just as much time at the gym as he used to, his shirt barely containing his hard muscles. He looks fine, damn fine.

“Hey, sweetheart. What a pleasant surprise. Come in.” From the tone in his voice, he’s genuinely surprised I’m here. Truthfully, so am I.

Alex dims the main lights, but the mirrored wall behind the bar remains lit in a soft blue, with hundreds of bottles on show. The fit-out is modern: polished concrete floors, dark timber tables, and chairs, with deep-blue pendant lights hanging over the long bar. The walls are a dark charcoal, with black-and-white, framed photographs littered throughout. A selection of khaki-green, dark-orange and maroon velvet wing-backed chairs fill an alcove at the front of the bar. I can imagine it will become a popular place to sit and enjoy a cocktail or two with friends. I might have to come back one day when the place is in full swing. Alex should be proud of what he’s accomplished.
But, I’m sure he is
.

I follow him behind the bar, and lean up against the cool stainless steel counter.

“So, to what do I owe this
pleasure
?” he says as he scrawls a few notes on his clipboard, not quite giving me his full attention.

“Well, you did invite me to the opening. I’m … I’m just a little late.”
Keep it together, Eevie.

“Yeah, you’re late alright, but your timing is impeccable. You have
me
all to yourself.” Alex grins wickedly. “Frankly, I didn’t think you’d show.”

He puts down his clipboard, and moves towards me. He kisses me softly on each cheek, and then moves a few steps down the bar, his eyes scanning the wall of bottles. On cue, blood rushes to my face. Hopefully in this light, my reaction won’t be so obvious.

“Better late than never,” I say.
How original.

“Let me make you something to drink. Hmm,” Alex says as he runs his index finger repeatedly along his bottom lip. It seems as though he’s having trouble making up his mind. “Yes,” he whispers, reaching up and selecting a tall bottle of white Sambuca, and two shot glasses.

“Sit,” he orders, his tone stern. I look to either side of me. There are no seats. Does he want me on the other side of the bar? Alex grabs my waist, and lifts me up onto the counter. My skirt rides up, my bare legs against the cool steel. It sends a chill right through me, much to Alex’s delight. I try to push down the hem of my skirt, and squeeze my legs together.

Alex drops a coffee bean in each glass, fills them to the brim with the clear liquid, and sets them alight.
Clever boy
. I guess if you own a bar, you’d better know how to fix a good drink.

The flame is mesmerising. I’ve never had a drink like this before. My mouth waters in anticipation. Alex blows out the flame, and hands me one. He holds his glass close to mine, and clinks.

“Here’s to an unexpected …
very
late night visit.” Alex’s hazel eyes drill into mine.

“Mmm, cheers to that.” I down the smooth shot in one hit, the lightly-toasted coffee bean lingering in my mouth. The warmth of the shot spreads from my stomach out to the tips of my fingers and toes. “Oh … that’s good,” I say.

Alex smiles and makes us another, an uncomfortable silence between us for a few moments. Well, uncomfortable for me, anyway.

“Why are you
really
here, Genevieve?” Alex says tilting his head to one side. His warm hands rest on my knees, his body against my lower legs.

“I told you. You invited me.” I try to pretend it’s nothing more than that, but deep down, I know why I’m here. I want him to want me. I want him to touch me. I want to forget about Jon, and all the other fucked up shit in my life. I want to escape, and Alex may be just the vehicle to do that.

“That’s not why. Tell me,” he says, his tone demanding. He knows why I’m here; he just wants me to say it. I decide not to massage his ego—well not
just
yet.

“Curiosity I guess, and I, um, wanted to see how you are.”
God, I’ve regressed to a shy schoolgirl
. I bet he’s enjoying this.

Alex brushes my hair off my neck, and then runs his fingers along my collarbone. He grins as he notices my skin prickle all over, my heart beating faster as it reacts to his gentle touch.

“You sweet, sweet girl, Genevieve. I’m fine … but things are certainly looking up.” Alex moves away and makes two more shots. When he returns, we cheers again, and drink.

A hit of warmth spreads through my body, my inhibitions almost non-existent. Alex moves his hands up my legs, searching higher up my thighs and under my skirt. I lean in, and kiss him softly on the lips, but I don’t linger—I don’t know how he’ll react. Alex closes his eyes, bites his lower lip, and takes in a deep breath through his nose. When he opens them, his gaze is scorching, pinning me in place. I try and suppress a smile. His reaction, well, it’s got me excited. Warmth pools where I imagine he might touch me … and really make me forget.
I
get the feeling things are looking up.

A loud sigh escapes his lips. “Fuck, I’d love to do rude things to you right here and now, but I’ve got something I need to do. And besides, I wouldn’t want the people in the taxi queue to get a free show.” Alex’s gaze burns into me.

Is that it? Game over?

I lower my head, eyes fixed on my hands in my lap in an attempt to hide my disappointment. I wanted something to happen tonight, that’s why I’m here. I guess I was kidding myself thinking it would.
Why would Alex be interested in someone like me?
Alex runs his finger under my jaw, and tilts my head up to meet his eyes. I lick the stickiness off my bottom lip.

“Change of plans. We’re going to my place,” Alex says. He snatches my hand, leading me to the back exit, and ushers me into his car.

No discussion.

Alex is calling the shots, and it’s so … hot. A winning smile spreads across my face—of course, when he’s not looking. Alex taking charge is a relief. I don’t have to think. It’s such a paradox to Jon and I. We were nervousness breeding nervousness. But I don’t want to think about Jon, I want to forget him, because the friend I thought would always be there, hates me. And I haven’t heard boo from him since. I really thought he cared. I was wrong.

But that doesn’t matter anymore, because I’m going to forget you, Jonathan Cooper.

Alex is taking me home.

****

Alex puts on some soft music, and flicks on a lamp, dimly lighting the living room. His apartment is clean, modern, and minimalistic. I stand stiff as a board in the entryway, not knowing what to do next. Alex empties his pockets out on the dining table.

“What do you suppose I do with you, Genevieve?” Alex runs his index finger across his bottom lip as he stalks towards me. Strong arms weave around my waist, and he pulls me close. I run my hands over his firm chest.

“Surely you could think of something,” I tease.

Where on earth is this braveness coming from?
I suspect those shots at the bar have a lot to answer for.

He kisses one cheek, grazing my lips as he moves across and kisses the other. My heart pounds faster, my hair raises all over my body. His mouth moves down my neck, kissing and tasting my skin. My knees feel weak, and might just buckle. His kisses move back up, his warm lips grazing mine. I pull him by the tie and press my lips to his. We kiss slowly at first, his hands moving down to squeeze my arse. I slide my tongue into his mouth. A husky rumble escapes his mouth, as his tongue dances with mine.