LIV

 

Life has a way of slapping you in the face repeatedly sometimes. Like, if you’re too happy, reality dishes up a shark bite, and if you’re not careful, it will tear you apart. That’s how I felt this morning when my mum called and told me that Aunt Libby has cancer. The stories of how my parents, aunts, and uncles got together have been told time and time again over the years.

Uncle Dane and Aunt Libby’s story was probably the saddest. After losing their families and being abused in a foster home, they found each other. Then Uncle Dane was asked to model and went away on a photoshoot for a few weeks. When he returned, Aunt Libby had vanished. It would be over ten years until he found her, only to nearly lose her again. That time was never fully explained to me. I just know it was pretty bad, and it involved her being kidnapped. Uncle Dane loves Aunt Libby with a ferocity that I can only hope to have someone feel for me one day. He calls her Nova, his supernova. I don’t know what to do with this information, and although I’m hurting, I can only imagine the agony he’s going through right now.

I’m not sure how long I sit on the sofa staring out the window with shock and sadness flowing through my veins. A knock on the door makes me jump, and I half-heartedly shuffle to the door and open it. My eyes take in Toby, but I say nothing. I just turn around and walk back to my spot on the sofa.

“Are you all right?” he asks sitting next to me.

I shake my head. “Not really. You?”

“It’s shit.”

“Yeah.”

Our conversation stalls.

“Have you spoken to Isaac?” he asks, and it’s the last thing I expect him to say.

I turn to face him and frown. “No, should I have?”

He shrugs in response. “Yes, no, maybe. I don’t know.”

I frown harder. “What?”

“We had a chat,” he reveals.

“About?”

“You, me, us.”

“Us?” I question, my voice breaking on the word.

“Not us, us. But the bigger us, you know? You, Isaac, me.”

I rub my eyes and blink a couple of times. “You’re making no sense, Toby, and my brain is too fried to decipher, so spit it out.”

“He wanted to know what happened the other night. He was pissed that I hurt you.”

I close my eyes and let the warm feeling slide through me, before pushing it away and remembering he has a girlfriend.

“Did you explain?” I ask, curious. He still hasn’t told me exactly why he acted the way he did and even though I’ve tried not to, a small part of me is still holding a grudge about his behaviour.

“Yeah. I know I told you it was about being in his shadow, but it was more than just women and things. A little while ago I got some documentation, including letters, stuff that belonged to our birth mother.”

“Oh,” is all I can manage as I sit shocked.

“The letters were mainly filled with how much they loved Isaac, then when I came along, how they wanted to have me adopted. They didn’t want me, Liv.”

I gasp as my eyes fill with tears, and I reach out my hand to him. Toby quickly grabs it and holds tight.

“Toby.”

“It’s okay, I’ve known about it for a long time. I was overwhelmed the other night. I’d never dealt with what the letters said or the emotion I felt. After speaking to Isaac, I feel better. Then we had a Skype call with Lawson too, and hashed some stuff out. Honestly, I’m good.”

“Good,” I croak.

“But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to explain why I behaved like a wankstain, and I also wanted to apologise, again.”

“You’re forgiven.” He frowns. “Honestly, this time you’re truly forgiven,” I say with a smile, and Toby grins back. He knows me well and knew I was still smarting over what happened.

We sit quietly, but he keeps our fingers threaded. I can’t stop my thoughts wandering all over the place.

“You know he still loves you.”

“No. He has Shelly,” I respond, not looking at him.

“She’s not real.”

I tear my eyes from the window and whirl to meet Toby’s. “What?”

He grimaces, and I wonder if he overshared. “I mean, his feelings for her aren’t real. He’ll always love you.”

I turn back to the window. “Maybe, but he’ll never choose me.”

“Maybe he will.”

I sigh. “Maybe it will be too late.”

I feel Toby deflate. “Maybe.”

 

 

“Jesters tonight?” I murmur down the phone line to Helena while eyeing Toby as he fries bacon.

“Yeah, I have a late client. I’ll grab Holly and meet you both there?”

“Sure. Don’t forget I still want my new tat.”

She sighs, and I can almost feel her nodding against her will. “Sure. When?”

“Well, it’s my first night back at work tomorrow so let’s go for the weekend?”

“Sure.”

Helena hangs up, and I look over at Toby as he makes the first bacon sarnie. I walk past and grab one, half shoving it in my mouth.

“Damn you, woman,” he moans. I wink in reply and walk into my room shutting the door behind me and opening my wardrobe with one hand, while pushing more food into my mouth with the other.

My phone starts ringing. “Dammit,” I complain, nearly choking when I see it’s Isaac calling.

“‘Lo,” I answer, still chewing.

“Via.” His voice is like a comfort blanket wrapping around me. I imagine throwing it off as my spine straightens.

“Isaac, what do you want?” I sigh.

“I want to see you.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Give me one solid reason why?”

“Shelly.”

Silence follows, I almost call his name to see if he’s still there.

“Via.” My name is merely a murmur, so soft as if he’s caressing it. “It’s always been you.”

My breath catches, and I throw the remainder of my food in the bin before squeezing my eyes shut, trying to stop the inevitable tears. After a minute, I calm down enough to talk.

“Then tell me what happened in those five years, tell me why you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“No,” his reply is instant.

“No?” I practically spit the word. With a shake of my head, it dawns on me that no matter my feelings, or his, there will never be anything more between us because there’s already so much. A mass of insurmountable obstacles stopping the real connection taking root.

“Via, I’m—”

“Don’t bother,” I cut him off. “You have Shelly, and you won’t be honest with me. I don’t think there’s anything more to add.”

He sighs. “Via, there is so much more, I just can’t tell you. Not yet.”

I drop backwards onto my bed, covering my eyes with my forearm. “Isaac, listen, when you’re single, and ready to be completely honest, then come find me, if I’m still available.”

“What the fuck does if I’m still available mean?” he growls.

“Goodbye Isaac,” I hiss cutting him off as he calls my name.

I give myself only a few moments to wallow in self-pity. Not so long that I feel the need to go out and find Helena so she can slap some sense into me.

Standing, I do ten star jumps to get the blood pumping. I shake my whole body out and awaken my inner dancer. “Right, let’s find the perfect outfit,” I say to myself moving back to my wardrobe. When going to clubs these days, I see most women wearing tight pencil skirts with bandage style crop tops. I rarely do. It restricts my dancing, and while most people go to clubs to find a sexual partner or at least a little flirtation, I go to dance. “You,” I mumble, pulling out a black crop top and black leggings with silver crosses printed all over them. I tug the leggings on and slip the top over my head, adding a pair of black ankle boots with pin-thin high heels. I finish off my makeup and brush my now long platinum hair. Finally satisfied with my appearance, I face myself in the mirror and smile devilishly. Tonight I’m going to heat up the dance floor.

“Is it a whiskey or wine night?” Toby asks as we enter the club.

I glance back at him and shout above the music, “If you bring me wine tonight, I may stab you with my heels.”

“Noted.” He smirks and heads toward the bar.

 

 

A few hours later and after a brief conversation with everyone, I’ve left them back at a table on the balcony overlooking the dance floor so they can see me. Going downstairs, my eyes meet Josh, a guy I have been dancing with all night.

“You’re back,” he shouts as he joins me among the sweaty bodies.

“Shhh,” I reply pressing my finger to his lips.

I close my eyes and lose myself to the rhythm. The songs change from one to another, time and time again. Mid-song a prickle canters across my skin, and my eyes shoot open searching the crowd. I spot him. Standing head and shoulders above everyone, his eyes are hooded and roaming all over me. He spies Josh’s hand attached to my hip and even from across the room, I can see a muscle stretch and tighten in his cheek.

“I need a drink,” I say, leaning toward Josh and indicating I’m going to leave the dance floor.

“You stay, I’ll get it,” he tells me, and I consider his offer before nodding in agreement.

He walks toward the bar as I continue dancing. Isaac’s eyes pin me down and only move away at the last minute as Josh walks past him. Isaac turns and joins Josh at the bar. I have no idea what he says, but the next moment Josh has visibly paled and quickly glances back at me with fear before rushing through the crowd—away from me.

Fucking Isaac.

He turns and watches Josh leave, but I don’t, I can’t tear my eyes away from Isaac’s face. There’s a hardness in his eyes, an edge that’s aimed fully at the man who has danced with me all night. My breath stutters, and I momentarily lose control when he moves his gaze back to me. His features change, warmth fills his eyes along with recognition and something else, something animalistic.

One song finishes, and Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ comes on, but it’s the slow, sexy remix. Isaac strides over, and with no words, pulls me flush into him. Every part of us is touching, and I can’t control myself. I sometimes forget he can dance. Aunt Sophie taught all three of her boys well.

My favourite dance style is Bachata Sensual. It’s a fusion dance based on the traditional bachata from the Caribbean. I’ve always loved the movement and intimacy. It’s a follow and lead dance, and there are no set steps. It’s all about feeling the dance and the man is always the master. It’s sexy and sensual. I’ve only ever danced it with Isaac.

Like no time has passed since we were last standing in this position, he leads my every movement, pulling my body so I’m rubbing up against him. His leg slips in between mine and our hips grind as they move from side to side. I almost groan. We might have clothes on, but there is no doubt in my mind that we’re having sex on the dance floor. Every second I watch him, his eyes are hooded and primal, and I want to rip our clothes away.

Isaac leans toward me like he’s going to touch our lips, but shoots straight past my face in rhythm to the music and catches my earlobe between his teeth, nipping then pulling back. I sink into the dance, the music infusing my body, mind, and soul. I forgot how enjoyable it was to dance with him, and I switch off completely handing myself over to Isaac once again.

He spins and guides me in our sexual dance, touching me at every given opportunity, even when the move doesn’t require it. It’s powerful, hot, and a little bit dark. It’s completely Isaac.

He turns my body away from him pulling my back flush to his chest and bends me over at the waist. I close my eyes for just a second, biting my lip as I feel his dick press into me. A shiver runs down my spine, and I smile. I still affect him. Tipping my chin up and opening my eyes, I notice the crowd circling us, but I just don’t care. Isaac squats behind me bouncing on his haunches, then pushes up to standing whilst running his hands up the insides of my legs. To everyone else, this is just part of our sexy dance. But, I’m the one who feels like she’s going to explode when, against the very tight material, I feel pressure from the tips of his thumbs as they run the length of my pussy, before he removes them, pulling me back up into his solid frame.

My stomach spins like a washing machine on the fastest cycle, and I feel cold when his arms move away from my waist. He quickly clasps my hand in his, and we’re dancing side by side. I’m glad he always adds a little latin and salsa as it gives me a second to compose myself. As the song starts coming to an end, he once again drags me into him. Running his palm down between my breasts, he slips lower reaching my navel, before ghosting his fingertips over my hips. As the music stops, his lips are hovering over mine, our eyes locked. The lull between songs gives him just enough time to crush me all over again.

“This is why you shouldn’t bother dancing with anyone else, your body only responds to my touch, Via,” he says, a smirk forming on his lips.

Before I can reply, the next song has started, and I’m looking at his back as he walks through the crowd.

Bastard.