Edge of Living Page 3
About to head straight to the counter, I hesitated mid-stride when the person seated on the right-hand side close to the window suddenly caught my eye. Even with their head bent over a book, it was easy to recognize the man from the library. After a momentary tussle with my conscience about the best course of action when he'd already made his feelings perfectly clear, I headed for his table anyway. It had to be fate, right? I mean, what were the chances of our paths just happening to cross again so soon, in a place other than the library? I approached him slowly, as if he was a nervy wild animal at risk of bolting if I moved too quickly. Making sure he was aware of my presence first, I eased myself into the seat opposite him. “Hi.”
He dragged his eyes away from the book, staring blankly at me. Did he not recognize me? That was a bit of a blow to the ego. “We met in the library yesterday. I was the idiot with the Harry Potter book. I saw you over here when I came in so I just thought I'd come and say hello. I’m just taking a break from work to get coffee for the boys. When I say boys, I mean the guys in the garage, not kids. Although, sometimes they act like them so it can be pretty hard to tell the difference.”
He continued to stare for a moment as if he was struggling to process why I was telling him all this. Finally, his lips parted. “You’re a mechanic?”
I nodded. Hadn’t I already mentioned that? Of course, I hadn’t. We hadn’t even gotten as far as names. At least, I could put that right. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I'm a mechanic." I gestured down at my far from clean T-shirt with a cringe of embarrassment. I hadn't changed this time because I'd had no idea I'd bump into him again. "I’m Austin by the way. Austin Armstrong.” I considered offering a hand to shake but decided against it. Along with my T-shirt, they weren't as clean as I'd have liked and then there was the fact that I didn't want to risk the possible awkwardness of him not taking it.
He shifted in his seat, giving the distinct impression of a reluctance to share the same information. When he finally spoke, the response was no louder than a whisper and I had to lean forward in order to be able to catch it. “Alexander.”
Alexander. A beautiful name for a beautiful man. I found myself grinning at him, the simple knowledge of his name making me feel strangely elated. “Do you normally shorten that? Alex or Xander or—”
He cut me off. “Alex is fine.”
I gestured toward the book he'd been reading. I didn’t want to run out of small talk because then I’d be out of excuses to remain sitting there. While we were still talking, I could stay without feeling as if I was invading his privacy. “What are you reading? You looked like you were pretty engrossed.”
He flipped the book so I could see the cover. The book was entitled “Getting away with Murder” I didn't even try and hide my surprise. “Wow! That sounds heavy. You’re not planning one, are you?”
His eyes revealed his confusion at the question. He was obviously a man of few words, but at least I was getting eye contact today. “A murder? You’re reading a book about how to get away with one, and you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch. And you know, you're quite...quiet.” Suddenly feeling as if I'd made a really bad joke, I sought to dig myself out of the hole I'd made. "Just a joke. I don't really think you're a murderer. You're not, right?"
Shaking his head, he pulled his mug toward him, taking a big gulp of the contents. It gave me another conversational opening. “What’s the coffee of choice? Assuming it is coffee?”
“Hot chocolate.”
“Ah, you’re a hot chocolate man.”
Another nod.
I cast around for another topic of conversation that would keep me there just that little bit longer. “You’re not working today?”
“Late lunch break. If I stay in the library, they still ask me to do stuff. I have to head back there soon.”
It was by far the most he'd ever said. I couldn’t help feeling as if I’d won some sort of victory. Deciding it was better to leave on a high, I reluctantly stood up. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I’ll leave you in peace to enjoy the rest of your lunch break.” With that, I walked away toward the counter, joining the small queue of three people.
As I waited, I couldn’t help sneaking the occasional glance in his direction. He’d gone back to reading his book, his dark hair falling over his face as he bent over it and his fingers sometimes tapping on the table as he read. On impulse, I added a hot chocolate and a chocolate muffin to my usual coffee order. If you liked hot chocolate, you had to like other chocolate things, right? And it wasn’t as if he had to eat it.
I carried them over to the table, placing them next to him and wincing as he startled at the sound of the mug hitting the table. “Sorry. I…well, I got you these. I thought you might be hungry. You don’t have to have them. Just…you know, in case you wanted them.” I gestured at the items, as if he could have failed to notice them.
“Thank you.”
I nodded, hurrying away before the slight flush on my cheeks ran the risk of developing into a full-blown blush. What the hell was wrong with me? If any of the guys in the garage could have seen me so flustered over a man I'd only met twice, they'd have an absolute field day with the wind-ups and I’d never hear the end of it.
Alexander
I stared at the muffin. It was a double chocolate one, the chocolate chips plentiful, the smell wafting across the table and teasing my nostrils. I finally gave in and broke off a lump, bringing it slowly to my mouth. It tasted good: moist and chocolatey, easily melting in my mouth as I contemplated the man that had bought it for me. I hadn't known what to think when he'd appeared from nowhere. Alarm bells had started ringing, questions racing through my head at lightning speed. Was he stalking me? How did he know I was here? What did he want?
It had taken every ounce of composure I had, to stay seated when my senses had been screaming at me to flee. His appearance alone should have been enough to trigger the urge to hide. The man was big. Really big, with bulging muscles barely contained inside his T-shirt. His physical presence hadn't seemed quite as oppressive back in the library when he'd approached me. Maybe because that was a place where I always felt safer.
But then as he'd talked, I'd gotten the impression that he was somewhat of a gentle giant with his slow movements and carefully modulated voice. I'd found myself slowly relaxing, almost content in his presence and I'd had to remind myself not to let my guard down. It was easy to be wrong about a person. I'd been wrong before and look how that had turned out.
My confusion had grown even more when he'd brought the hot chocolate and muffin over. It wasn't the gesture. It was more the fact that he'd blushed, his tanned complexion not quite dark enough to hide it completely. All in all, I didn't know what to make of him.
All through the mostly one-sided conversation, I’d readied myself to turn him down again when the inevitable invitation came. Except, it hadn't. He’d handed the drink and muffin over and then left. I broke off another piece of muffin, hitting the gooey chocolate center. That bit tasted even better.
Sudden guilt burned through me. What right did I have to be enjoying myself? The remaining muffin in my mouth became suddenly tasteless and I swallowed it with great difficulty. Grabbing my book, I abandoned the rest of the muffin and left the hot chocolate on the table as I headed back to work early.
* * * *
“Alexander, do this. Alexander, get that. Alexander, have you finished yet?” The list of directives at work were never-ending. It hadn't taken long for the all-female staff to realize I'd obediently follow their instructions, and they usually capitalized on it, often passing over tasks they just didn't want to do themselves. What they didn’t realize was, I needed it. While they were telling me what to do, I didn’t need to think. I could just follow orders like some sort of well-trained robot. I could switch my brain off and simply exist, lost in whatever mundane task I'd been asked to do.
It was when they didn’t tell me what to do, I struggled. Then, in the space of
the nothingness, the walls would start to close in and I’d forget how to breathe. Forget how to be Alexander Philips. The cracks on my skin would start to open up, revealing the emptiness inside, and the facade I'd built up would start to crumble.
This was one of those times. I fastened my gaze on a plant in the corner, barely aware of the voices in the library surrounding me. When I’d left university with a first-class honors degree in English with a specialism in journalism, I could never have envisioned a time where I'd ever feel useless in a library. I’d once had a brilliant mind. A mind capable of solving complex problems. Now, I couldn’t even think for myself.
“Alexander, the phone’s ringing. Can you get it? And then there’s a pile of books in the back room that need labeling. Can you make a start?” The world snapped back into focus as I hastened to follow the order. I had purpose again. I had something to make the minutes go by faster. So I could tick another day off of the never-ending succession of time crawling slowly by.
The other good thing about working in the library was that my work colleagues didn't seem to mind that I didn’t chat. I floated around in the background while they discussed favorite TV programs and talked about where they’d gotten their hair or their nails done. I barely said two words to them. I suspected that they thought I was mentally challenged. I didn't care. They could think what they wanted.
It meant I could save all my energy for necessary social interactions with members of the public, faking a happy persona that nobody seemed to see through. I thought of it as a social paint by numbers where each number represented something different: one, might be smile; two, a laugh; three, tell a joke; four, use their name as a means of bonding; five, recommend a book; six, use a natural mannerism such as running my hand through my hair or clasping my hands together in front of me. Each person I needed to speak to, I’d mentally swap the numbers around in my head. Person one: four, then one and six at the same time, five. End on two. Person two, I’d swap it around. Start with five, then one, then maybe six and so it went on. And nobody ever seemed to see through the act. They were all fooled. To them I was a real person, instead of a barely functioning shell of a human being.
* * * *
Richard Simpkins had taken to lying in wait for me every day now. I’d tried varying the time I came home. It didn’t work. There were times I’d think I’d gotten away with it. I'd be almost to the top of the stairs, my apartment door mere meters away, sanctuary so close I could almost smell it and then his door would open and I’d find myself confronted with that same oily smile. He was careful never to touch, never to go so far I'd have something concrete to tell the police. All I could say to them at the moment was that he stood in my way, talked to me when I didn’t want him to, and looked me over in a way that made me want to scrub myself with bleach. Not that I would ever go to the police anyway. I'd been there and done that and had learnt that in the long run, it didn't make the slightest bit of difference, but Richard didn't know that.
He was seated at the top of the stairs today, smoking a cigarette, his eyes fixed on me as my slow upward steps landed us on an inevitable collision course. He'd positioned himself diagonally, making sure he blocked the entire stairwell. That left me with only two options: attempt to step over him or ride out the usual comments and sexual innuendos until he saw fit to move. I halted in front of him, glad of the fact that his seated position meant I could at least look down on him. It made me feel slightly less vulnerable. "Can I get by?"
He squinted up at me, taking a long, slow drag of the cigarette and exhaling the smoke slowly without offering any response. It was a deliberate delaying tactic, all part of his attempt to try and intimidate me. "What's the rush, Alexander? Don't you want to stay and chat a while? You look like a man who's in need of a bit of company."
Inside my head, I was screaming, but I kept my gaze fixed on his, careful not to give away how he made me feel. "I don't—sorry. I just want to get home. I've had a long day at work. So...if you don't mind?"
He cocked his head to one side, his mouth twisting into what I assumed was meant to be a charming smile. It reminded me of another man from a long time ago. A man who on the outside had been just as charming, right up to the point where he wasn't anymore. "I hate to think of you"—he brought the cigarette to his lips, releasing another plume of smoke—"all alone next door. You never have visitors. You never go out in the evening. You need a bit of fun in your life."
Surging panic flowed through my veins at the thought of him cataloguing my movements—or lack of. The urge to flee back the way I'd come was strong. My legs started to shake and I only kept myself in place through sheer force of will, praying he wouldn't be able to tell the effect he was having on me. "That's none of your business."
He stood, his arms reaching out to grasp the handrail on either side so that his body still remained an obstacle. His eyes trailed slowly down over my body, pausing for far too long at my crotch, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip in a provocative gesture. "Pretty Alexander...all alone. Maybe I'll come around one evening, show you what you're missing out on by locking yourself away."
I couldn't help it. It was a step too far. I shoved my way past him, the momentary feel of his body pressing against mine making me feel sick to the stomach. The headlong rush down the corridor to get to my apartment door seemed to take forever, punctuated as it was by the sound of his mocking laughter. I'd shown him that he scared me. There was no chance of getting him to leave me alone now.
Chapter Four
Alexander
I strode up to the man at the bar. It was hard to miss the fact that there were several other interested glances being thrown his way. It didn't faze me. I didn't mind a bit of competition. I could usually hold my own. "Buy you a drink?"
He turned to study me, and I took the opportunity to do the same as the pretty blue eyes outlined by long dark lashes looked me over. The man was even more handsome up close. I waited patiently while he considered my offer. It was the age-old dance where one of two things would happen next: he'd decide he was interested, he'd say yes and I'd know that my night had just taken a turn for the better, or he'd turn me down. If it was the latter, I'd shrug, go back to my friends, and one of the other interested onlookers would move into my spot and take their turn. One thing was for sure, there was no way this beautiful man was going home alone tonight, unless he wanted to. I just hoped it was with me, rather than with someone else.
He smiled, the gesture revealing perfect white teeth, which accentuated his good looks even more. "Sure. Why not?"
I gave a mental fist pump, ignoring the disgusted look of someone to my right who'd been on their way over but just hadn't gotten there quick enough. I aimed a smug smirk his way, hoping it clearly conveyed the sentiments of, “Mine, bitch. Find your own.” Gesturing for the barman to come over, I took the opportunity to introduce myself while I waited. "The name's Alexander. But, most people call me Al."
He leaned closer, a wolfish smile appearing on his face, his interest written all over it. "Oliver Calthorpe. Pleasure to meet you, Al."
Even the man's name was classy. "What do you want to drink? Or..." I let the sexual tension simmer between us. We both knew what we wanted. It was just a question of whether it was going to be now or later. "...did you want to skip the drink and just get out of here?"
He lifted his glass, swilling the remnants of red wine left in the bottom before bringing the glass to his mouth to drain the contents. It made me wonder what that wine was going to taste like on his tongue when I kissed him. "Let's get out of here." He slid gracefully from the stool and began to make his way toward the door. I turned back to the table where I'd left Jack and David, offering a wink and a wave while ignoring the eye rolls I received in return. Then, I followed Oliver's delectable ass out of the bar.
* * * *
Oliver's apartment turned out to be just as impressive as he was: all floor-length windows and art deco furniture. I stared out over the amazing view of
the city, sipping the no doubt unbelievably expensive wine he'd handed to me on arrival, and trying my utmost to pretend like this was a position I found myself in every weekend. I smiled as he came up behind me, his breath teasing the sensitive skin at the back of my neck. "Do you like it?"
"The view? The wine? Or the apartment?"
He shifted, coming to stand alongside me. "All of them?"
I shrugged, determined to play it cool. "They're okay. I bet your bedroom's even better though. When do I get to see that?"
His mouth twisted, leaving me with the strangest feeling of having said something wrong. I had no idea why that would be the case though, it wasn't as if we'd made any secret of what our plans were after leaving the bar.
He stepped closer to the glass of the window, his gaze meeting mine in the reflection. "Tell me about yourself, Al. Let's get to know each other a bit before we move onto other stuff."
So, that was the problem. He thought I just wanted to use him for sex. I did. But I could make polite chit-chat for a few minutes if that's what was required to get him naked. "I'm not very exciting. Sorry. What do you want to know?"
The next fifteen minutes were spent exchanging conversational titbits which quite honestly, I could have lived without knowing. I discovered he was a banker, which explained the swanky lifestyle. I found out where he'd gone to university, where he shopped for his clothes and how he liked his steak cooked. He discovered, well, the little there was to know about me: straight out of university didn't leave an awful lot to talk about. I didn't think he'd be that interested in the last three years of campus life so I skipped over that. He did however seem interested in finding out about my family which killed some time as I detailed the ins and outs of family life while doing my best to gloss over the fact I'd had to move back there temporarily until I found a job and could afford my own place.