19.
Eddie
I spend the whole day thinking about Lucy. There’s an event on at Gilbert’s in the evening so I didn’t exactly need to rush out the way that I did, but I wanted to give her some space. I knew if I stayed there a moment longer I wouldn’t be able to stop touching her and there was no way she’d thank me for making her late for work. Not that Luce has ever been the most punctual of people, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble. And when she mentioned the shower, all I could think about was how gorgeous her tits would look, warm and full beneath my hand as water droplets trickled between them. I went home and had a cold shower. It didn’t help much.
I get to work at about midday and Ieuan is waiting for me to start so that we can go over plans for the evening. It’s a pretty standard book signing, except that Ieu is a big fan of this particular author, some crime fiction novelist I honestly haven’t heard of before.
“She’s such a phenomenal writer,” Ieu insists, “We have to make sure she is comfortable and that tonight goes without a hitch. Alright?”
He’s more nervous than I’ve seen him before and if I didn’t know better I’d say he was a fan of more than just her writing. I don’t say anything and try to focus as we go through the minutiae of an event that shouldn’t be that complicated anyway. It’s just a book signing. We’ve done hundreds of them. But for Ieu for some reason this one is different, and he is the boss.
At half five I manage to persuade him to eat something so that he is on top form for when she arrives. He reluctantly agrees, and I use the 20 minutes that gives me to grab a sandwich and text Lucy. I think about calling her but decide against it. She’ll have just finished work and I need to eat. I can eat and text, but eating and talking at the same time just seems rude. As though she were a second thought, which she isn’t.
Hey Luce, how was your day? Have you heard of an author called Juliet Franklin?
In what’s left of my break I don’t get a response and I wonder if I should have started with something a bit less casual. I guess I’m just not good at anything else, but with Lucy I might be willing to try. I’m not saying I think I could be in a relationship with her. I would make a terrible boyfriend and she deserves someone she can rely on. And although the idea of her with another man makes my stomach twist and turn, I know it’s for the best. I’m a coward and she deserves a hero.
But she is single. And while she’s single I don’t see any reason I can’t help her work through that treasure trove of a bedside draw of hers. It wouldn’t be friends with benefits. It would be helping her. It would be helping Lucy let her hair down and making her feel good in the process. That’s all I want for her, for her to be happy.
Ms. Franklin turns up five minutes early, which is normally a trait I’d appreciate but right now I wish she had some of Lucy’s lateness. It forces me to focus on work and put my phone away. Again, not something I’m normally this reluctant to do. I try not to think about that.
Ieuan is beside himself, I’ve never seen anything like it. For a man who is usually so calm and happy and friendly, he is remarkably tongue-tied and panicked. He bustles and fusses around poor Ms. Franklin, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s actually quite a nice lady. Don’t get me wrong, most authors are as lovely as you please, but occasionally you get the demanding ones, the sort who think the sun shines out of their sphincter and require that extra bit of song and dance made about them.
The way that Ieu is behaving you’d think Ms. Franklin fell into the latter group, but she absolutely doesn’t. She’s calm and friendly and really patient with Ieu’s nerves. When he’s out finding her a more comfortable chair or something I try to explain that he’s not usually like this. She just smiles, “It’s alright. It’s quite nice being fussed over once in awhile.” She has a nice laugh and seems comfortable with it, so I leave the two of them to it.
Once everything is set up, I move to the back of the store to watch. Usually, Ieuan would supervise everything, but today he wanted to be more “hands on” so I agreed to take on that role. He’s stood next to Ms. Franklin frowning at something or other. I don’t think I’ve seen him frown before today. It makes me wonder exactly what is going on between them. I’ve seen the way that they look at each other when they think the other isn’t looking. It gives me the sneaking suspicion that perhaps today isn’t the first time that they’ve met. But I keep it to myself.
A hand on my arm pulls me from my thoughts and I find myself smiling into the almond brown eyes and olive complexion of Cassie. Bugger.
“Hi Ed.” She keeps her voice low and her hand moves up and down my arm in a manner that can only be described as sultry.
I take a step away from her and turn back to face the front, where Ieu is still frowning at customers. “Hi Cassie. Long time no see.”
She doesn’t seem to be put off by the distance as her hand slips across my back. “Far too long.”
My hand wraps around her arm and I take another step away from her. “Stop it, Cassie.” I don’t know where the voice came from, but I’m surprised to find that it’s mine. It’s firm without being too forceful and totally unlike me.
“Stop what, baby?” Her free hand strokes my wrist, forcing me to look at her. “I’m just being friendly.”
I sigh and let her go. “I’m sorry, Cass. You’re great and we had a lot of fun together, but I’m not interested, alright?” The words tumble from my brain to my mouth without any kind of filter and I am so grateful that for once I found the strength to say no. Rather than hiding or ignoring the situation, I have stood up for myself. Pride fills me and the first thing I want to do is tell Lucy. A second later I think better of it. I’m not stupid.
Cassie couldn’t look more stunned if I’d slapped her. She huffs and walks away muttering, and I’m glad that she’s gone. I feel bad for hurting her feelings, but I was honest. That’s got to be better than what I’ve been doing before. Right?
By the time the event is over I am exhausted. Ieu is still tense and although I offer to lock up so that he can rest he refuses, sending me home with a “see you in the morning”.
There’s still no response from Luce when I check my phone and I think about calling her. Except that it’s gone 11pm and she’s probably asleep. The image of her on the bench looking so sad and lost and alone fills my mind and I hope that she is asleep. She needs the rest. After everything she has been through, I’m amazed she manages to be as upbeat as she does. Although having said that, I’m beginning to think she’s not as chipper as she’d have the rest of the world believe.
This last couple of weeks I feel as though I have seen chinks in her armour. I’ve been allowed to see glimpses behind the façade, peeks behind the curtain.
Until this last month I’d never seen her cry the way she did in the café, I’d not seen her as nervous as she was when we talked about sex and she had never been as uncertain of anything as she was knelt in front of me, having just given me the blow job of my life. She has opened up to me in a way that no one has ever opened up to me. I know more about Lucy than I do about anyone. I know her better than I know Alex, better than I know my parents. It crosses my mind that I might know her better than I know myself.
Although she can still surprise me, I understand her. It’s not about being predictable; it’s almost a retrospective comprehension of her. Whereas I still do things without understanding why I do them. And when I surprise myself it’s rarely in the positive way it was this evening with Cassie. I wonder why that is.
It’s not until I come to a halt that I realise I’ve walked to Lucy’s house. I stand at the gate to her front garden looking up at her house. All the windows are dark and the curtains are drawn. I made the right decision not to call her. She needs her rest and there is no way she’d thank me for interrupting it, however pleasant I would try to make that interruption.
I stare for a while at her bedroom window, in that moment reliving the joys of that morning. Her smile, her caress, her blush, her laugh. The way she came for me.
I sigh as I walk away. It feels wrong to leave but I know I have no choice. I’ve made my decision that I am not for her, not in the long term. And I can’t knock on her door demanding sex. Even I’m not that much of a douche.
I have a day shift on Saturday. As usual it’s busy. Saturdays are always our busiest day and I’m grateful because it takes my mind off Lucy. I walked past her house on my way in this morning but there were no obvious signs of life. But that’s not surprising. It’s a Saturday morning, she was probably out on a run. She hasn’t responded to my text either, but I don’t let it worry me. Tonight is Lucy’s birthday party and we’re all meeting in town to celebrate. Dinner and then dancing. It should be fun. And the perfect opportunity to talk to her.
I may not be boyfriend material, but I’m still her friend. Turning 26 is going to be harder for her than most and I want to be there for her if she needs me. I want to pamper her, make her feel special, celebrate her birthday. She’s my best friend; it’s the least I could do. Plus I am selfish, I want to spend as much time with her as I can.
The present I’ve bought her is awkward for a night out, so I weigh up my options. Drop it over on her actual birthday, tomorrow, or go by before this evening and give it to her then. It’s not a hard decision to make. If I go over after work, before the meal tonight then with any luck I’ll be able to walk her to dinner. I’m not going to deny my desire to see her again. And if I can make that happen sooner rather than later, then what have I got to lose?
As I walk up the path to Lucy’s front door I get the strangest feeling in my stomach. It’s a fluttering, twisting feeling that I can’t put my finger on. There’s an undercurrent of excitement running through me and I briefly wonder whether or not she’ll be wearing the same dress that ended up on my bedroom floor, that delicious curve-hugging green number. Just remembering her in that dress gets my blood pumping and forces me to take several deep breaths before I knock on her door.
I don’t expect her to answer after the first knock. She never does. She’s probably busy getting ready anyway. Maybe she’s getting dressed, standing in her bedroom in her lingerie, something black and lacy or red and silky or pale and barely there, her dark midnight hair flowing over her shoulders, all of that beautiful skin on display, waiting to be touched by me. Waiting for me next to that enticing draw of goodies. I definitely saw handcuffs.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine and I shake the image from my mind. Or she’s rushing around getting ready for her birthday dinner. Edward Nightingale, get a grip!
I knock again. And again. And again. I glance at my watch and realise I’ve been knocking for almost quarter of an hour. When I try to call her it goes straight through to voicemail.
Hi! I can’t get to the phone right now. Text me or call me back because I never remember to check this.
Her light, laughing voice is cut off by the harsh beep.
“Hey Luce.” Even though I try to stay calm I can hear the tightness in my voice. “It’s me, I mean, it’s Eddie. I just thought I’d drop by and give you your present before the big shindig tonight but you don’t seem to be in. Hope you’re OK. I know we didn’t get to talk after yesterday morning, but I was hoping to speak to you.” I sigh. “I want to be there for you, Luce. Anyway, call me when you get this. It’s Eddie, by the way.”
As soon as I hang up I feel like a jackass. What the hell is wrong with me? Shindig? Fucking shindig? What the hell? I sound like a complete prick. I’m so much cooler than that. Always. I’ve never said the word shindig in my life. Fuck knows what possessed me to try it out now. I must be going out of my mind.
It’s not like she left me much choice. She hasn’t responded to my previous text so I don’t hold out hope that she’d respond to another one. She doesn’t seem to be home and she’s not answering her phone. A panic grips me, with a hundred different scenarios running through my mind. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Is she alright? I haven’t seen or heard anything from her since I left on Friday morning. What if something’s happened to her? Should I call the police?
I don’t know how long I spend standing outside her house worrying. I pace, try knocking again as if it’s going to make a difference and resort to stalking her online, none of which reveals any answers. A message from Alex interrupts my fretting.
Dude, where are you?
I check the time. Shit. I am totally late for the meal. Maybe she’s already there. I leave the present behind one of the flowerpots next to her front door so that it can’t be seen from the road. Shooting off a message to Alex I can barely stop myself from running to the restaurant. Lucy must have been getting ready at Camilla’s house. Simple.