Chapter 34
Chris
There must be something wrong with me. Something seriously wrong. What am I doing? Why have I been sitting in my car for half an hour, just to…what? Wait for him to walk past? Or wait for an epiphany, maybe?
What was I thinking, coming here? Driving around the neighbourhood, peering through windows – what was I hoping to find? Was he just going to magically appear from nowhere?
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. I repeat it over and over, smacking my head against the steering wheel.
I’ve had a busy day. Work was hectic. Between colleagues, customers, phone calls from my parents, questions from Evan, and Martin’s constant messages to check how I am, my head has been all over the place.
I closed up in a rush, without even clearing the café up properly, then found myself here, in Northwood, for no apparent reason.
Actually, yes. There is a reason. A dangerous reason. A reason called Ryan O’Connor.
I know that he lives around here, but there are so many houses and buildings that it’d be impossible to find him. What can I do? Check every name on every letter box? Then what happens if I find his house? Do I knock on the door, tell him…what?
I smack my head against the steering wheel again, waiting for logic to return, when I hear someone knocking on the window.
I snap my head up in a panic, to see Nick’s smug face. I lower the window a little and grimace at him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, looking around. “Are you lost?”
“Me? No…I was just looking…I have a friend who lives around here, and I’ve forgotten the house number and…”
Jesus, I’m a bad liar.
Nick nods, a smile still plastered over his face. I think he knows exactly why I’m here.
I’m such a mess.
He walks around to the other side and opens the passenger door, sitting down next to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, worried.
“Come on, I’ll show you the building.”
“W-what building?”
He looks at me condescendingly.
“You’re in the wrong street. This is where I live. See? Right there, in that building, Temple Court. He lives in the new buildings, down there – they called it Parklands. It’s still in Northwood, but on the other side of the main road.”
“H-he?” I stammer again.
“I don’t exactly think you’re here looking for me.”
I go violently red.
“Come on. Start the engine up and take the first right.”
I do what he says and pull into the road. Nick gives me directions and I follow them – but I’m not brave enough to look at him.
“Here we are. Block three. It’s apartment 108, on the third floor.”
I turn and look at him, in a daze.
“The code to get in is 1771. It’d be best if you go right to the front door and surprise him.”
“What? But I…”
“Please…” his gaze softens. “Do something, Chris. Because if you don’t do it, neither will he. Do something – anything – but bring him back to us.”
I’ve been at his front door for ten minutes now. Just standing there, frozen. It won’t take much, I know, to just knock on the door, find some ridiculous reason for being here, and explain how I know his address and the code to open the door downstairs.
It’d be nothing: for a good liar.
I tug at my shirt and brush through my hair with my fingers. Well, brushing is an exaggeration. It’s more an attempt at untangling it.
I take a deep breath, knock, and wait, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The minutes pass quickly, the silence of the corridor suffocating me. I realise that I’m making a huge mistake, and I should get out right now.
I turn on my heels and march quickly towards the lift, when his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Christine?”
Shit.
I turn around slowly and my jaw drops to the floor.
Ryan is standing in the doorway to his apartment, barefoot, with a towel wrapped around his waist. A few drops of water are slipping slowly down his abs, and his wet hair is plastered to his forehead.
“Hi,” I wave, like a little girl.
“What…?”
“I…er…sorry, I’d better go.”
I start to walk away again, but he runs after me, grabbing my arm.
“Where are you going?”
I turn towards him, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his face – but I can feel them dropping a little further down. His warm hand is still wrapped around my arm. I look down at it, and he lets go, pushing his hair back from his face.
I swallow down a sigh and compose myself.
“I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d come and say hi…”
He crosses his arms. “How did you know where I live?”
Shit, he’s clever, too.
“I can’t remember, maybe you told me? Maybe someone else told me…” I try, but when he opens his mouth to respond, the front door opposite us swings open.
“Ryan!” A shrill, grating voice interrupts us.
“Mel,” he says, coldly.
The woman closes the door and approaches us. Well, ‘woman’ doesn’t quite do her justice. She’s more a goddess, or a Barbie – a Barbie goddess, maybe. I’m sure that exists.
Her gaze falls onto him shamelessly, and I’m suddenly overcome by a strange longing to grab her by her platinum blonde hair and slam her head against a wall.
“Have we just had a shower?” she comments, stupidly.
Seriously? Can she not see that he’s half naked with a towel around his waist?
“Yeah,” he says tightly.
“I’m still waiting for that coffee,” she goes on, suggestively.
“Yeah, sooner or later,” he says, his beautiful face hard.
“Well, I was just going out with some friends…We’re going into town, to the George. We’re going dancing. Maybe you could come with us, when you’re done here…?” she says, shooting daggers at me.
“Sure, you got it,” he nods, before grabbing my arm again and pulling me into his apartment.
He slams the door behind us then lets go of my arm again. He paces frustratedly into the living room, then turns to face me.
He’s angry. I can see it, I can feel it. He doesn’t like that I’ve come here, interrupted his conversation with the Barbie goddess. He’s annoyed that he’s here entertaining me when he could be getting dressed and heading out with her. I’ve realised that he isn’t someone who likes to waste his time.
Anger climbs up my throat, and it tastes bitter – almost like jealousy. But it melts on my tongue.
“I’m sorry for just turning up like this. I didn’t want to intrude, or make you late for a date.”
He suddenly looks at me, his glare pinning me down.
“I can see that you’ve got someone waiting for you,” I say resentfully. But my voice sounds alien, even to me.
“Sorry?”
“That… girl,” I say, waving towards the door.
“Let me understand something…” he steps closer to me, and I flatten myself against the door. “You came here, to my house, unannounced, invaded my privacy…” he leans a hand against the wood, next to my head, “…and now you’re making a scene because a girl asked me out?”
I swallow nervously, as he leans the other hand on the other side of my head.
“Why are you here, Christine? What the hell do you want from me?”
He’s speaking right onto my lips. His voice is dark, but his gaze is lit up, dangerous.
I can feel my legs trembling, and an unexpected heat spreading through my body.
“I’ll just go,” I say, trying to turn myself around and open the door, but he pushes himself against me.
“No. Not so fast.”