Edge of Living Page 2

  His gaze drifted down to the book, a slight look of either surprise or confusion blossoming on his face. It was hard to tell which. “You like Harry Potter?”

  I turned the book around and took my first look at the cover. It was indeed a Harry Potter book. One with a large phoenix emblazoned on the cover. Maybe I should have been a little choosier about which shelf I chose my random book from. Avoiding the children's shelves would have been a good start. At least, I was familiar enough with the author to know that although it was primarily written for children, some adults read them too. It could have been worse. I could have been stood there clutching a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. Anyway, it was the book in my hand so I had no choice but to go with it. “Sure. I mean, yes.”

  He kept his eyes trained on the book. “And you want to know where you would find other books by the same author?”

  I nodded.

  A small frown appeared on his forehead as if something didn't compute. “On the same shelf. Right next to it.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit! I was an idiot. “Really! Well, yes. I suppose that would make sense. Thank you.”

  He turned back to the trolley, obviously intending to continue on his way. I made a grab for the handle at the same time as jamming my foot in front of the wheel, meaning he either had to wait or run over my foot. “Actually, the book was just an excuse.”

  His body swiveled again, his gaze hovering somewhere around my chin. Was he shy? I found it hard to believe that somebody who looked like him could be timid. Up close, he was even more attractive: all creamy skin, doe eyes, and cheekbones. “An excuse for what?”

  “To talk to you.” In for a penny, in for a pound. What was the worst that could happen? “To ask if maybe you’d like to get coffee sometime? Or have dinner? Or go for a drink? Whatever it is you like doing in your spare time when you’re not here. I'm up for anything really. Well, not anything...but...” I laughed at my own verbal diarrhea. I was normally much smoother than this.

  His eyes darted to mine, the first time he’d made eye contact since our conversation started. My breath caught. Was that fear in his eyes? I knew I was taller than him and a damn sight wider, but I was stood a respectful distance away. I wasn't crowding him. I’d been polite. I hadn’t been too pushy. Okay, I'd blocked the trolley which might have been a little over the top, but fear was surely a major overreaction. The look lasted mere milliseconds before it was gone, and I was left wondering whether I’d imagined it. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out quiet but firm. “I don’t date.”

  I don’t date. Not, I’m not gay. To my mind there was at least a tiny fragment of hope there before I gave up. “Why not?”

  He took a step backward as if attempting to put more space between us. “I just don’t. Thank you for asking but…” He didn't bother to finish the sentence, using the action of pushing the trolley away to terminate the conversation. Frustrated, I found myself watching him walk away, the buzz of attraction making my head swim despite his rejection. A no was a no, though. There wasn’t much more I could do. I wasn’t about to start stalking him. It was bad enough that it had taken several visits to the library to pluck up the courage to speak to him. But now I had, I had my answer. He wasn't interested. Therefore, it was time to stop. I regretted not asking his name. It would have been nice to put a name to the one that got away.

  Chapter Two

  Alexander

  I quickened my pace at the distinct sound of footsteps echoing behind me, my heart beginning to pound. It couldn’t be him. I knew it wasn’t possible. But there were other threats out there. Just because it wasn’t him, didn’t mean I was safe. I wanted the oblivion of death, but I wanted it on my own terms at a place and time of my own choosing, not dictated to me by someone else. Sanctuary, in the form of my apartment, lay around the corner, less than two hundred meters away. I just needed to get there.

  Rounding the corner, I resisted the urge to look back over my shoulder to see who was there. It would just waste time. I half ran down the path toward the door, my trembling fingers making difficult but hasty work of the lock on the communal door. Then it was open and I was inside the building, slamming the heavy door in my wake. I felt better, but I knew I wouldn't feel completely safe until I was locked away in my second-floor apartment. I took the stairs two at a time, desperate to be able to shut the whole world out for a few blessed hours. Inside my apartment, there was no one to judge. I didn't have to put on an act and pretend I was coping when I wasn't. There was just four walls and silence.

  When I was halfway up the last flight of stairs with my apartment in sight, the door next to mine swung open; the man who'd appeared spotting me and leaning nonchalantly against the wall as he watched my approach with a smirk on his face. My heart sank. For the first six months, I’d lived next door to a young couple and their baby. While the crying of the baby had driven me crazy at times as well as reminding me of another crying baby that I never wanted to think about, the couple themselves had been nice. They were always friendly enough to say hello and apologize for their son’s noise, but happy to leave me alone the rest of the time which suited me down to the ground. The month the apartment had sat empty after they'd moved out had been even better. Then, Richard Simpkins had moved in. I knew his name because he’d insisted on telling me the first time we’d met, his eyes raking me from head to toe and making his interest very clear.

  It had been six weeks since our paths had last crossed. I worked days; his job at a security firm meant he worked evenings. Therefore, he shouldn’t have been home at this time. Yet, there he was. Intending to ignore him, I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, studying the worn, dirty carpet under my feet as I climbed the rest of the stairs. If I was lucky, he wouldn't make any attempt to engage me in conversation. It was the last thing I needed after my scare outside. Just a few steps more and I'd be home free. A pair of shoes appeared in my eyeline as he stepped into my path, blocking my route. I forced myself to lift my head and look him straight in the eye. It wasn't easy to pretend I wasn’t intimidated when I was quaking inside. “Excuse me.”

  He didn’t move. His smirk grew wider, morphing into something akin to a leer, matched by the lascivious look in his eye. “Alexander! Why the hurry? We haven't seen each other for ages. Let’s catch up.”

  I'd never told him my name. He must have looked at my mail, delivering my name on the second occasion of meeting me as if it gave him sort of inside information and made us best buddies.

  I made a move to side-step past him, the corridor not wide enough for the move to work unless he cooperated. “I’m busy. So…”

  He remained firmly planted in my way. “Surely, you’ve got five minutes? It’s been so long and I’ve got some good news for you.”

  Resigning myself to having to play along for a few minutes, I folded my arms and stared resolutely back at him. If it weren’t for the fact that his every move and gesture gave me the creeps, I might have even thought he was good-looking. Maybe that was why he couldn’t get it through his head that I wasn’t remotely interested in him. Plenty of men probably responded enthusiastically to his brand of smarmy charm. I’d known another good-looking man once though; his attractive façade hiding a demon underneath. You couldn’t always trust what was on the surface. I’d discovered that the hard way and I was never going to make the same mistake again, especially not for someone who thought it was funny to constantly try and assert his dominance over me. “What news?”

  He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Someone left at my workplace. I’m back to working days so I’ll be around in the evenings again. We can see a lot more of each other.” He tapped on the plaster behind his head. “Just on the other side of the wall from you.” His gaze trailed slowly down my body and it took all the willpower I had not to shiver. “Just knock if you need anything.” He put extra emphasis on the word anything, making the sexual double meaning behind it quite clear.

  Bile rose in my throat and I fought down the panic doing its bes
t to bubble up inside. “That’s not going to happen.” I was impressed that my voice came out sounding so calm and controlled when inside I was a mass of churning emotions. He laughed, finally stepping aside to let me pass. “Well, the offer’s there, Alexander. Anytime.”

  I hated the way he said my name. He dragged out the middle of it, as if he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. Getting my legs to work, I hurried past him. Knowing that he was still watching and determined to avoid giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled me, I forced my fingers to remain steady while I unlocked the door. After all, that’s what I was good at: pretending. I’d spent all day doing it. This was just another thing to add to the list. The last thing. Then, I’d be inside my apartment where nothing and no one except memories and nightmares could touch me.

  The door opened and I hurried inside, fastening the chain and the two bolts I’d added since moving in before crumpling to the floor against the wall and hugging my knees to my chest. Breathing deeply, I tried to stave off the panic attack threatening to send my body into overdrive. You’re safe now. You’re inside. Nobody can get in. You’re safe. Nobody can get in. I repeated the mantra again and again until my pulse started to slow and I knew that I'd escaped the possibility of a panic attack.

  I hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when I would have brushed a man like Richard Simpkins aside like an unwanted fly and laughed about him afterward with my friends. But, those times were long gone and I was a mere shadow of the man I'd once been.

  One year earlier

  “Ally, can you babysit tonight?” The question had come from Victoria, my older sister. As a single parent, she’d made the decision to move back home so that my mum and dad could help her look after the baby. She was still there, showing no signs of moving out, five months later.

  I gestured down at my clothes, dressed as I was in skintight jeans and an equally tight and sleeveless—not to mention see-through—top. “What do you think?”

  She hoisted the baby further onto her shoulder, pulling a face when the motion made him burp. “You’re going out?”

  I grabbed my leather jacket from the chair, shrugging my arms into the sleeves. “You betcha I am.” Peering into the mirror on the wall, I examined my hair which I’d spent at least twenty minutes styling to perfection. “Do you think I need eyeliner?”

  My mum's face appeared in the mirror behind me. I hadn't even heard her approach. “With those eyes? You don’t need anything extra.” I smiled, meeting the almost identical pair in the mirror. “You would say that. I got them from you. It’s just a shame I inherited your height as well.”

  My mum’s eyes crinkled. “Good things come in small packages.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah! Yeah! So you’ve been telling me for years. You also used to keep telling me I’d grow.”

  “Well, your dad’s over six foot, so I thought you might.”

  As if summoned by the mention, he appeared from the basement, where he’d no doubt been working on some ingenious invention which would go terribly wrong and he'd give up on, only to start something else the following week. He bent to kiss my mum on the forehead and I dutifully pretended to be horrified by the show of affection. “Urgh, please! Can’t you do that behind closed doors? Or wait till I'm at least forty and can handle it?” Secretly, I loved the fact that even after thirty years of marriage, they were still very much in love. Most of my friends’ parents were either at the point of merely tolerating each other or had divorced years ago.

  My dad tutted at my reaction before continuing on his way to the kitchen, my sister following him. I guessed he was going to be the next person hassled for babysitting.

  A concerned expression settled on my mum’s face. "You'll be careful tonight, right?”

  Waggling my eyebrows, I patted the right pocket of my jeans. “Condoms are in here.”

  She shook her head, a look of fond amusement on her face. “You know that’s not what I meant. Although"—her eyebrows lifted—“it’s good that you’re prepared. I meant be careful who you talk to. Not everyone can be trusted you know...and ever since you were a little boy you've always been happy to talk to absolutely anyone.”

  I’d lost count of the number of times I'd heard this speech over the years. At least this time it didn't include the story of when five-year-old me had wandered off and after a major panic had been discovered safe and sound, chatting to a bemused busker and asking him to play nursery rhymes. “I don’t know how you think I coped at university for the last three years without you there to look after me. I'm twenty-two now, you know. Big enough to look after myself.”

  “That was different.” She leant forward, brushing a stray piece of hair back behind my ear. “When you were at university, I didn’t know when you were out or not.”

  I smiled, knowing there was no point in arguing with the twisted mum logic. She cared and she’d always care. No matter how old I was and no matter where I was going. I’d always be her little boy in her eyes. “I’ll be careful, Mum. I promise.”

  Her eyes softened and she leant forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Are you meeting Jack and David?”

  I nodded. “Yep! The terrible trio are hitting the clubs.” The three of us had been firm friends all through school before I’d gone away to university. I'd expected time and distance to have taken their toll and that it wouldn't be possible to pick things up where we'd left them. But to my surprise, it was as if I'd never been away. Even the fact the two of them were now a couple hadn’t left me feeling like a third wheel. Maybe because I knew both of them equally well. I checked my watch. “Speaking of which, I better get going. I’m supposed to be meeting them in about half an hour.”

  She waved me away. “Watch out for Charlie. He’s got this new thing where he keeps trying to escape whenever the front door is opened. He’ll try and run through your legs if you’re not careful.”

  “Got ya.”

  The Shih Tzu was right in front of the door. I bent down to pet him. “Charlie, mate. You need to work on your escape plan. Hide. Pretend you’re not interested in the door and then make a run for it. You’re kind of broadcasting to the world what you intend to do." I picked him up, carrying him into the front room and closing the door just enough to slow him down but not enough that he wouldn’t be able to get out once I'd gone. Whistling, I made my own escape out of the front door, fantasizing about what delights the night might bring. It had been way too long since I'd pulled. At least a couple of weeks by my calculation. I had every intention of rectifying that tonight.

  * * * *

  “What about him? He’s been eyeing you up since we arrived?” I followed Jack’s gaze to where a blond-haired man leant against the bar. “Nah! Not my type.”

  Jack sighed. “You never used to be this fussy.”

  I gave him a long look. “I was eighteen, had a permanent erection, and was desperate to get my hands on a man. Any man. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way since then.”

  David smirked. “I’m sure you have COME a long way.”

  I was about to give the kind of response that such a smutty double entendre deserved when my eyes were drawn to the man that had just walked into the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair swept back from his very handsome face and he was most certainly my type. His long legs ate up the meters between him and the bar until I was left staring at the back of his head, before my gaze dropped to take in the very pert backside. What I wouldn't give to get better acquainted with that ass. I wasn't sure where he'd been all night. He hadn't just arrived: the almost empty wine glass in his hand attesting to that fact. There was another room. Perhaps he'd been in there. Actually, who cared where he'd been. He was there now. That's all that mattered. “Now, he is definitely my type. Wish me luck. I’m going in.”

  Chapter Three

  Austin

  I ducked, narrowly managing to avoid the oily rag which had been chucked straight at my face. At least the distraction provided a bi
t more thinking time about the best way to answer the question that had just been aimed my way. “Huh, when?”

  Wilko poked his head back out from the car he’d just slid under. “Yesterday lunchtime? Where d’ya go?”

  Adrian—the thrower of the oily rag and technically my boss, although he didn't act like it most of the time—came to stand next to me. “Yeah, Aust. Where did you go? You seem to keep disappearing. What’s the secret?”

  I shrugged. “No secret.” The fact they were questioning me meant I’d probably been seen either entering or leaving the library and this was a test to find out if I was going to tell the truth or not. The problem with the three of us being such good mates and working so closely together was you couldn’t even go for a dump without one of them wanting to know how long you’d be gone for and whether it was your first of the day. “I had to take some library books back for my mum.”

  Wilko's face screwed up. “Again? You took books back for her on Monday. How fast does she read?”

  Adrian bent over, looking down at Wilko. “Faster than you, I bet. Oh wait! That wouldn't be difficult...you can’t read, can you?” He cackled loudly at his own joke while Wilko called him a dickhead and started throwing his own insults back.

  Glad to have disappeared from their radar and escaped further questions, I took the opportunity to get out of there. “I’ll nip out and grab coffee for us. See you in a bit.”

  * * * *

  The coffee shop was a good ten-minute walk away. I could have taken the car, but it was nice sometimes to get a bit of fresh air and steal a bit of extra time out of the garage. It was close to empty when I arrived. But then I'd known it would be: one thing I'd learnt over the years was the times to avoid unless you liked queueing for ages and negotiating your way past crowds to have a chance at leaving.