Eavan

It’s been four months since we moved out of that small town I loved so much. I’m working in a flower shop now. This is my third day actually. The old woman who’s the owner is teaching me to create arrangements of flowers like wreaths and bouquets with patience. I think I’m more of an entertainment to her than her employee.

“Go to the beach, child,” Anna says and her wrinkled face lights up. Wisdom and calm radiate from her pale grey eyes as her tiny hands covered with brown spots tremble against the white counter. She touches a pile of red roses at her right elbow and grabs scissors. “Off you go.”

The scent of roses, orchids, and lilies hangs heavy around me as the whole palette of bright colours pleases my eyes.

I shake my head. “But—“

“The day is beautiful. Go for a walk. Come back in an hour.” She moves closer to me and shoves me towards the exit.

I nod at her and walk out of the shop. She’s the boss here, after all.

The bright sunshine blinds my eyes as I saunter, with my arms crossed over my chest. A row of white historical buildings guards the path leading to the beach I can see across the roundabout.

This village is beautiful. We’re living in a small cottage with a thatched roof and two bedrooms. The garden around the house is quite devastated, but Ruby is eager to take care of it. She loves gardening and I hate it. There are too many opportunities to face really nasty creepy crawlies while working in the garden. Even tiny spiders make me scream. Ruby loves having her hands covered in soil and doesn’t pay attention to all the disgusting life hidden among the plants and below the grass.

I focus on my breath. In and out. It feels safe here. I want to feel safe. But I can’t. The cold exhale of invisible menace haunts me day and night. Smile. Relax. Live. This is for Ruby.

I have to be strong for her.

I don’t think about Seafra. I can’t afford to think about him.

I’m keeping the memory of him buried at the bottom of my heart, trapped in a dark cell.

As I move closer to the beach, the murmur of the sea waves fills me with calm. The walk will do me good. I always sleep better after a walk along the beach.

I cross the road then move along the pavement and walk down the concrete stairs. The grey pebbles scrunch under my feet as my eyes roam over the surroundings. Houses sit on the cliffs like daisies in the grass. The white clouds overhead float lazily as a seagull interrupts the eternal whisper of the sea reflecting the sun’s rays.

I sit on the pebbles, pulling my knees to my chest whilst the sun’s rays are burning the nape of my neck. It’s peaceful. Safe. Time doesn’t exist.

Ten minutes. I will be myself for ten minutes.

I inhale deeply and happiness washes over me. My being merges with the surroundings, tastes the very particles of the smell coming from the sea, and resonates with the song of the waves. It’s lulling me, making me float in a sweet weightlessness, making me open my mind. Memories enter my head.

My mother’s joyful voice. “It’s beautiful.” And her hand showing the beach stretching like a white majestic ribbon against the deep blue colour of the sea.

Ruby’s bright smile. “Can we stay here forever, mummy? We don’t have to go back to the house. Daddy doesn’t like us.”

“Don’t be silly, honey. Your daddy loves you.” My mother strokes Ruby’s head then hugs her.

I finish my sand castle. “Daddy hates us.”

“Don’t you dare say that ever again,” my mother hisses as her eye twitches.

Somebody’s form throws a shadow onto mine, an abrupt disconnection from my reverie, and I jerk my head back, eyes glancing up.

A man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoody and smiles at me.

I turn my face away and stare at the sea, but the figure behind me doesn’t move. Putting my hands on the pebbles for support, I lift myself, but two hands push at my shoulders and immobilise me in a sitting position. I turn my face and find myself in that man’s embrace, his chest against my back, his legs guarding either side of my body.

“Hey,” I growl and jerk my hands up, but the man wraps his arms around me, squeezing the oxygen out of my lungs.

“Be quiet,” he says.

I feel dizzy at the familiar huskiness of his voice.

“Seafra,” I whisper and slump into his embrace.

“What a fucking coincidence, huh?” he rasps into my ear, his anger tangible, seeping into me. “Let me guess. You hated me so much that you decided to escape from me to this hole. So... Are you living here?”

“No.”

“So what are you doing here?” He tightens the embrace around me, and I feel tiny and helpless against his power. Breathless.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp.

“I have a concert in the local pub.”

“I have to go.”

“No,” he growls. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not until you explain what the fuck I did wrong last time.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Seafra.”

He growls from his throat and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Heat rushes through my veins.

“Why didn’t you come, Eavan? Didn’t call?”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“No.” He holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face up to his and our lips meet like I’ve never left him. Like those four months that passed have never happened.

I’m out of breath, weak, dying, rising to life back again. Excited and scared.

“I can’t,” I whisper into his mouth, tears trickling down from my eyes.

“Why? Tell me why?” His arms loosen the grip around me, but I still feel the hardness of his muscles against my body, his readiness to entrap me again at the slightest suspicion that I can wiggle out.

“I can’t.” I catch a rapid breath.

“Come on. Let’s have lunch together.”

“No, please let me go.”

“Lunch, Eavan, that’s all I’m asking for. Please, just this fucking lunch.”

“I’m working.”

He chuckles. “Really? Now?”

“It’s a bit complicated. The owner of the flower shop—“

“Yeah, yeah, I talked to her ten minutes ago. She’s giving you a day off. A very nice, helpful lady. She loves romantic stories, you know. And ours could be very romantic if you put more effort.”

“What?” I turn to face him as his palms land on my cheeks. “What did you tell her? What did she tell you?” Panic strangles my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.

Seafra removes his sunglasses and smirks at me. Pain courses through my heart at the sight of the exhaustion painted in a greyish tinge on his face.

“Just imagine,” he starts. “I go for a walk to calm myself before the evening’s concert and see my girlfriend-to-be walking out of the flower shop. I want to rip her throat out, you know, but decide to act like a civilised individual would. I decide to be smart. I go inside the shop and talk to the old lady there then I go to the beach to catch my girlfriend-to-be and haul her to the nearest cafe so she can have lunch with me.” He nods several times. “Lunch, Eavan. Just this one fucking lunch.”

“Okay,” I say and scramble to my feet.

Seafra stands up and grabs my hand. His fingers entangle mine and squeeze them to the point of pain, but I don’t mine. I want to feel him and absorb him with my whole being.

“Where are you staying?” I ask.

“In a nice B&B,” he says with a slight tremble in his voice as we leave the beach and move along the pavement, passing the glass facade of the hotel and the playground. “I can be a normal being here. It’s a tiny village in the middle of nowhere and the people here don’t pay attention to us. Not to mention that we give concerts here as the ‘Broken Souls’ not ‘Red Asylum’.”

“Never heard of the ‘Broken Souls’.”

“You see. I can be anonymous here. I can catch a breath here. I’m not a fan of being famous, you know. I like to be anonymous. I like walking with my girlfriend and holding her hand, you know. Anonymously.”

“Your girlfriend?”

He brings my hand up to his lips and plants a kiss on my knuckles. “My girlfriend from now on.”

“What if I don’t—“

“Let’s have this lunch first, okay. Let’s talk, Eavan.”

I want to talk to him, touch him, and give him more time. But I can’t.

“So you have a nice cosy room with a window overlooking the beach?” I ask frivolously as a decision sprouts inside me, growing into absolute clarity.

I’m shaky with emotions, drunk with happiness to see him again. Scared as hell.

“Exactly.” He roams his eyes over my face like he wants to memorise every detail. “A small room with the walls sprinkled with damp, a single bed and a horrible bathroom.”

“Are you very hungry? It’s only ten in the morning.”

“No, not really. You?”

“No, not really.”

“So maybe we could go for a walk or something? Talk like normal people. Get to know each other better.” He squeezes my hand, causing me pain, as though he’s afraid that I could vanish.

I don’t want him to feel like this.

I want to give him joy, peace and certainty. My whole time.

But I fucking can’t.

“I want you to show me your horrible room,” I say in a dry voice.

Seafra stops and gazes at me as though he’s completely stunned.

I am for sure. I’m stunned by my own boldness, decisiveness and the absolute clarity of my needs.

I want him. Here and now.

“So are you going to show me your room or not?” I flash him a half smile.

Darkness fills his eyes, violent like a bad storm tearing through an old forest. His hand squeezes mine and I hiss at the pain from his grip.

It doesn’t matter. The yearning in his eyes matters.

I raise my other hand and run my trembling fingers up and down his unshaven cheek. He rests his forehead against mine and we inhale one another, my hunger clashing with his, our bodies shivering, craving the slightest touch.

His cheek slides down against mine and he nuzzles my hair with his nose, breathes me in and trails a line down the side of my neck with his fingers. His hand rises again and touches my face with more pressure as though he wants to ensure himself that I’m not a mirage. I feel his other hand sliding down my back and resting above my ass. He kisses my temple as my arms travel under his and I dig my fingers into his shoulders from behind. His mouth moves down to the corner of mine. He stops as his lips taste me, memorise me. I open my mouth wide and his tongue slides in, searches for mine as we’re clenched together in the agony of our yearning for each other. My skin prickles. My heart races. My body demands his.

Our breaths unite. Our mouths wide, moving frantically. Our hands entangle.

Then Seafra pulls back and starts walking. He’s dragging me behind him, picking up the pace so I start running, my breath heavy, and my heart dying in my chest.

We squeeze through a metal gate then climb four cracked stairs and walk into a white building through a navy ornate door. Seafra drags me up a narrow stairwell and shoves me into his small room.

I take a deep breath and his lips are on mine again.

They crush, demand, possess.