Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
L evi
I turn and lean back against the door. I’d known Mac was there; this house holds no secrets. I’d heard him come up the stairs and then not descend again. I can always sense when he’s near. It’s like my skin is charged and emitting small sparks. Half the time I hate it, but at other times I crave it. I’ve never known anyone who could make me feel like that.
I started it as a bit of a tease, wondering what he would do, but the thrill of knowing he was watching coursed through me and I got lost in the pleasure of gratifying my own needs. I desperately want to wrench open the door and pull him inside. I want to touch him. I want his hands on me. I want to know what he feels like. More than anything I want him to want me. Right now, in the afterglow of an orgasm, I can’t cope with another rejection from him, though. And it would be, because he’s said as much. It doesn’t stop me wanting him and it doesn’t explain why he stayed and watched me. Did he know I was thinking of him the whole time? I hope so. Eventually I hear his footsteps on the stairs, the muffled voices as he says goodbye, and then the heavy wooden front door closing on him. Only then, when I’m no longer in his orbit, do I breathe deeply and finally make a move. I push off from the door and get undressed properly, then climb into bed, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.
I wake up early, the weak grey winter light casting melancholy shadows over every surface. I groan, remembering what I did last night. Was it a bad idea? I had nothing to lose. A flash of anger that Mac didn’t come through my door spikes and then subsides. It’s my want for him fuelling that reaction, so my ire just settles into its low level of regret that he keeps rejecting me. I can’t suppress a smile, though, because he didn’t leave. No, I don’t regret what I did, I just have no idea what I’m going to do next. I think through the people I know, my very small circle of friends, for whom I can ask advice from. Josh and Alex are my closest friends my own age, and we are at the confidential stage of friendship, so after the time I’ve spent with them they would probably be alright with me asking. But they don’t know Mac, so I’m not sure if they can help in the way I want. I file them as a possibility in my mind. I don’t know the rest of the Friday night crew nearly as well and wouldn’t be comfortable sharing anything with them, and Marina has been kind but I can’t exactly ask her to help me come up with a step-by-step plan for how to get her son to notice me. I don’t know whether she knows he’s gay, and I’m not going to out him to her. I haven’t told her about me either. It’s not really a topic of conversation, and whilst I don’t think she would be homophobic in general, I don’t know her thoughts about having a homosexual under the same roof. It’s better I don’t bring it up. In the end there’s only one person who knows us both. I’m not sure she will want to give me advice, but I’m out of choices.
“Darla,” I say three hours later as I’m making sure everything is stocked up behind the bar. There are a few minutes before the pub opens so I reckon this is my only chance.
“That sounds like a loaded use of my name,” she replies in her usual blunt style, coming to stand close to where I’m working and resting a hip against the bar.
“How do you go about making someone notice you? You know, like, notice you.”
“You mean you have a crush and you want to know if they’re also interested?”
“It’s not a crush,” I protest because it’s much more than that. “And they’ve refused me twice.”
“Ah, so we aren’t talking hypothetical, then?”
“No.”
“This is an actual person?”
“Yes.”
“I’d say they’ve already noticed you, then,” she says airily. “It seems a hopeless case to me.”
No, that answer is not acceptable. Not to me anyway.
“But what if I think they might change their mind, they just need a nudge?”
She regards me for a minute and then narrows her eyes, a look I’ve come to recognise as dangerous.
“What were the circumstances of their refusal?”
I think back to the first time I saw Mac and then the incident in Marina’s kitchen. I let out a sigh.
“I might have been angry and threatening to hit them.” Or rather, the first time, actually hitting them.
Darla smirks slightly.
“Have you ever considered your wooing tactics might be a little on the violent side?”
“Well, if you’re going to put it like that,” I say. She does have a point. “What do you suggest? Chocolate and flowers?” I scoff.
“It’s a tried and tested way,” she says, and then she must see my scowl. “But perhaps a little out of character for you.”
“I could do chocolate and flowers,” I mumble, not sure how but I’ll try anything.
“No, please don’t. You’ll only scare them away more,” she laughs, and I scowl more. I’m not sure I like how much she’s enjoying this.
“Well, he doesn’t seem like the chocolate and flowers type,” I say, remembering that I came to Darla because I wanted specific help. “I thought you might have an idea as you know him.”
I watch her eyes light up as she puts two and two together. I’m glad I don’t have to actually spell it out for her. She didn’t register any surprise either, which is curious, though slightly gratifying as she obviously doesn’t think it absurd.
“And violence didn’t work?” She grins and I roll my eyes. Yes, she’s enjoying this far too much.
She tilts her head to one side for a moment, deep in thought.
“I was going to say, have you tried talking to him, but he’s as stubborn as an ox.” Then she slaps her hand down on the counter, making me jump. “Then the only thing left is witchcraft and trickery, or trapping him somewhere. You could tie him up.”
I groan. Why did I think I’d get sensible help from Darla.
She laughs a little. “Let me think about it. There must be a way we can work some magic on him.”
I hope so, but it seems like even more of a lost cause now. I try not to let my disappointment show as I grab the keys and unlock the door, letting in the first few customers.
I work steadily through my long shift, grabbing a couple of breaks when I can. It’s busy which is good, as it means I don’t have much time to dwell on my problem.
Despite Darla’s joking about some rather drastic methods, she does ask me a few questions throughout the afternoon and evening, so I know she’s thinking about it. It’s not easy, as I don’t see him very often. He comes to dinner about once a week, always when I have a day off, which is a pattern Darla notices that I hadn’t. Why does he do that? I work the late shift most days, and will sometimes work an extra day as I can always do with the money. But he never comes to visit on a day when I’m working, and he could easily do that... spend some time alone with his mum. But with Marina in the house, it’s difficult. The only time we seem to spend together is when we’re cleaning the dishes, which has become something we do together and a part of the week I’m beginning to look forward to, just for the chance to be close to him.
I call time shortly before we close and get the usual last minute flurry of people wanting a last drink. When I finally close up and lock the door I’m strangely exhausted. I don’t stop, though. The sooner I get finished the quicker I can get to bed, which is all I want right now—sweet sleep and an end to my restless thoughts. I start to gather the last of the empty glasses from the tables. I work methodically, depositing the glasses on the bar and then wiping down the tables and disposing of any beer mats that are soaked and no longer useful.
Darla is cashing up and making sure all the takings are put away in the safe in the office. When I’m done clearing and I’ve started to stack the glass washer to leave running overnight, she comes through from the office.
“I think I’ve got it,” she announces and I look up.
“Got what?” Tiredness adds to my confusion.
“A way to make him notice you. Trickery and magic are definitely the way to go.” She grins and then outlines a plan to me, which seems simple but could just work. It certainly won’t make the situation any worse.