Because of Lucy Read online

  “Vanessa.”

  He nods and leans over to switch on the radio. The Killers blasts into the car, filling the less than comfortable space between us. I could’ve told him Ness, but I’m not Ness to him.

  “How come you know Abby?” he asks.

  “We went to school together our whole lives.”

  “You’re very different.”

  I fiddle with the air-vent in front of me, wanting warm air on my wet arms. “Yeah, different families.”

  Different parts of town. My parents tried to ban me seeing her when we hit fourteen, decided she was the proverbial bad friend leading me down the wrong path. Little did they know I was the one stealing alcohol from their overflowing drinks cabinet. Escaping from the constant pressure to be the best I could be. Parents on my back the whole time, nagging me about study, achieving. And be like them? Working so much they never saw their children.

  “Couldn’t stand to be apart, eh?” he said, “I have a friend like that. Hard to let go of everything from home. Especially when you’ve moved so far?”

  “Not really.”

  The car stands at a red light and I delve into my bag and check the time on my phone. I should be okay, now I don’t need to take the bus. Evan taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Not much of a conversationalist,” he says.

  I inhale. His scent fills the car, his dampened T-shirt releasing the fragrance of his deodorant. The sickly smell of pot and stale beer detracts from the appeal.

  “I’m tired,” I reply.

  “Yeah?” A stray damp curl falls into his eye as he turns his face to me. His expression is blank.

  “Something to do with having a late shift and then someone being in my bed all night.”

  “Really?” His tone changes and his eyes sparkle, “Someone keep you awake all night?”

  Ohmygod, he thinks… “No!” I say a little too hastily and he smirks. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Evan’s eyes widen, and his brow dips in confusion. He scrutinizes my face in a way that pools heat deep inside my stomach. “Shit. Sorry… No, I don’t remember. Look, I didn’t mean to…”

  “Oh my god! No! Not you… Not anyone! What I meant was you don’t remember talking to me. Not that we…”

  Evan exhales. “Thank god for that, I thought I’d done it again.”

  “Done what?”

  “Sometimes… I forget.” The traffic moves on again.

  “Forget?” But I know what he means.

  Evan inhales deeply. “Things I do. Sleeping with people. When I’m off my face, like I was last night. I can’t help it sometimes.”

  “That is offensive. Really bloody disgusting.” I look out at the passing cars.

  The rest of the journey passes in silence. I lean my head on the cool window pane and listen to the tires splashing through puddles, the loud hum of his engine. What annoys me the most is he doesn’t apologize for his misogynistic behavior. What surprises me even more is why his words bothers me. So many of the guys I’ve come across from university behave the same, because they can. He probably only offered me a lift so he could line me up as his next conquest.

  My irritation turns to anxiety as we approach the industrial center. He pulls up outside the hanger sized, rectangular building stretching out in front of us. The sun attempts to break from behind the grey clouds and I step out into a puddle.

  “Thanks for the lift,” I say begrudgingly, leaning into the car.

  Evan turns to me, the frown he’s had on his face for the last twenty minutes still present. “I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

  I open my mouth to tell him what I think of his sexist attitude, watching for a sly smile or wink. There isn’t one. Is he contrite or trying to hit on me?

  “And that makes everything better does it?” I close the door with a satisfying slam.

  My footsteps slap across the wet car park as I pull myself tall and stride away. I know he’s watching because his car engine idles behind me.

  Chapter 3

  NESS

  I trudge up the street from the bus stop, thankful the black clouds hold onto their rain on my walk home. Dusk falls over the dirty street, the front of the house disappearing into the shadows. The bus journey adds an extra thirty minutes to the trip home from work and I curse Abby under my breath as I hear her laughter through the front door.

  Dropping my bag on the floor, I flop into the nearest armchair. Male voices in the kitchen dampen the relief. I hope Abby and her friends go out soon - and she comes back alone.

  Abby pokes her heavily made-up face around the doorway, deep pink lips pursed in apology. “I put petrol in your car.”

  I lean forward and undo my shoe. “Don’t ask to borrow it again.”

  “Ever?”

  “Not in the near future.”

  She walks over with a large mug and sets it on the table next to me. “Here. I really am sorry.”

  In a short halter neck dress, barely covering the tops of her legs and her long brown hair straightened down her back, I no longer need to ask Abby if she’s going out tonight.

  “Thanks.” I sip the hot coffee.

  Matt walks into the room, beer bottle in hand, and passes Abby one of the highly colored alcoholic drinks she likes so much. The kind that stains her mouth red like the lollies we ate as kids, and taste the same.

  “Hey, Ness,” he says, “want a better drink than coffee?”

  Matt is ready for a night out too, his blue checked shirt buttoned over his broad chest, long legs ending in expensive trainers. He latched onto Abby in Freshers Week and I don’t like him much. Something about him is too nice. I don’t believe guys can be so devoted and so quickly. But he calls her his girlfriend, and so far she appears to be his only one. He squeezes Abby’s backside and leans in for a kiss. I look away as his hands wander.

  “Ness? Like the monster?” A pair of denim clad legs descend the stairs, and it doesn’t take me long to realize they’re Evan’s. He raises an eyebrow quizzically at me and I try not to appreciate the effort he’s made for his evening out. How much sexier he looks in his well-cut shirt, and with smoothly shaven skin. I shrug the thought away, no wonder he hasn’t any problem finding girls to fill his bed.

  I ignore his school yard comment. “Thanks for this morning.”

  I walk past Abby into the kitchen and mentally kick myself at the way my body has flared into a desire to touch him. So, he stepped in to play knight in shining armor and he’s hot but he’s still a dick. I poke myself, reminding my stupid hormones this guy has sex with girls and forgets.

  “Have fun tonight, guys,” I say, back turned.

  “It’s Friday…” Abby says from behind me, a whine in her tone.

  “I know, so I can’t get pissed off when you bring home half the university with you.”

  “No, I mean, why aren’t you coming out? It’s the weekend.”

  Couldn’t she see the dark circles around my eyes, caused by a week of interrupted sleep, and eight hour shifts in the battery farm impersonating a call center?

  In case she didn’t, I turn to her and point at my face. “I’m tired, Abby. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Inspecting the contents of the fridge, hoping to find ingredients for a quick meal, only a carton of milk and half a loaf of bread remains. Everything I bought yesterday has disappeared. I inhale, telling myself yet again moving in here was a big mistake.

  Abby picks up on my thoughts, she makes a small ‘humph’ noise and leaves before I can say anything. Evan steps forward and leans against the door frame, a lot more upright than our last encounter in the kitchen.

  “You should come out. Relax,” he says.

  “I’d prefer to relax at home. Make the most of the peace and quiet.”

  “You don’t have to make it all night,” calls Abby from the room behind him, “We’re going to the pub first. You can go home after that, if you don’t want to come clubbing.”

  “Sounds like a plan?” says Evan
and I am mystified why he’s trying to persuade me to go on a night out with them.

  I turn and pull some pasta from the cupboard, then root around for a pan under the cooker. “No, thanks.”

  “You can buy me that drink?”

  Pausing, I turn, pan in hand. “What drink?”

  “The one you’re going to buy me to say thank you.”

  I’m about to give him a mouthful for his arrogance but he gives me a look. The look I’m sure has charmed scores of girls into bed. Innocent, cheeky lop-sided grin and sparkling eyes. He can forget trying his charms on me.

  “Maybe another time,” I tell him.

  “Okay.” He turns his charm face back off and returns to his friend. For some reason, I’m annoyed he didn’t try harder.

  Ten minutes later, I’m standing over simmering pasta, listening to the voices from the lounge. I weigh up in my head whether to go, back home I’d never miss a Friday night out. Maybe I could manage a couple, if just me and Abby went - I’ve seen enough of her student cohorts for this week.

  “We’re going in five minutes,” says Abby, appearing in the door. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

  “I have to eat.”

  “We’ll wait.”

  “Who’s going?”

  Abby shrugs. “Not sure. A few are going to the Union but I know you don’t like going there. We’re going to meet most of them at Ritzy’s.” She spots my hesitation. “Go on, I feel crap about this morning. I want to spend some time with you. We can go for a quiet drink at the pub first.”

  Over her shoulder, Matt leans back in the sofa, legs on the table, joking around with Evan. I highly doubt she’ll spend much time with me if she’s with Matt. Evan sits opposite the door and he’s watching me. I meet his eyes, daring him to keep looking, and for the first time, the definition of the word smolder makes sense to me. Ohmygod, he’s hot. The creeping heat starts on my cheeks so I break his gaze.

  “Maybe tomorrow.” I turn and drain my pasta.

  “Fine,” huffs Abby

  Evan replaces Abby in the doorway, crisp blue shirt stretching across his chest and accentuating the fact he spends a lot of time in the gym. So much sexier than the scruffier clothes he had on earlier. I attempt not to picture the curve of his abs hinted at by his clothes. What the hell, I mentally castigate myself. I am not to find him sexy. But the brown eyes are fixed on me again.

  “You’re upsetting her,” he says in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been talking all evening about taking you out, apologizing. She thinks you’re pissed off with her, doesn’t want to fight with you.”

  I blink. “She told you this?”

  “I can tell. Come on. I’m sure a couple of drinks won’t kill you.”

  I consider the pasta congealing in the sink behind me, and the prospect of sitting alone in a house I’m not a hundred percent comfortable in yet. I’ve already heard stories of break-ins. Leeds is a new world, not just a city a few hundred miles from home. The darkening evening and unfamiliar surroundings clinch my decision. Not Evan’s inviting smile.

  “Okay, I’ll get changed.”

  Evan’s grin widens. “Cool. I bet you’re one of those chicks who gets ready in five minutes anyway.”

  I consider this statement as I walk upstairs. He either means I look good already or I’ve no chance of making myself look half-decent. It’s impossible to tell which.

  ****

  EVAN

  “I was joking about the drink,” I say to Vanessa as a pint appears on the table in front of me.

  She sits opposite me, perching on one of the uncomfortable round stools. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say.”

  She changed into jeans and a simple top. Strappy, not too low cut and the deep green accentuates her eyes. Her breasts push against the thin material and I’m distracted by the lace outline of the top of her bra. My gaze meets hers again and the look she gives me suggests she’s aware I was checking her out. I didn’t mean to. No, really. Her full lips shine invitingly with a hint of lip gloss. I rub my own together and she turns her head. So now I’ve been caught fantasizing about her mouth. Those death stares can’t be far away now.

  We’ve chosen a pub close to the university, and the look on Vanessa’s face when we walked in indicated Abby should’ve picked somewhere a little less student filled. The venue is narrow, a bar down the center and small wooden tables with stools along the edges. Which is very handy if you don’t want to lose sight of anyone, problematic if you want personal space. Abby and Matt hang at the bar while Matt chats to a group of friends. I recognize a couple from our Halls and wave, mixed feelings about sitting alone with Vanessa.

  “Okay, what happened?” I ask, taking a long drink.

  “When?” Vanessa asks.

  “This thing I did. That upset you.”

  She straightens and fixes me with the look I received earlier today. “You inferred I’m stupid. And that I sound like the Queen.”

  I splutter, not sure if laughing is appropriate. “I’ve no idea about the stupid part, but yeah, you sound like the Queen. A bit.”

  Vanessa narrows her eyes at me but a smile hints around the corner of her mouth. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m a Northerner. You posh chicks all sound like the Queen.”

  The smile disappears. “You don’t have a lot of respect for women, do you?”

  Where the hell did that come from? Her words irritate me, considering my life so far. “I have a lot of respect for women.”

  She snorts. “I’m not a chick. Women aren’t chicks.”

  “Ah. Okay.”

  Jeez.

  “And the other stuff. Sleeping with girls. And not even remembering the next day.”

  This is weird, she’s so intense.

  “You don’t know enough about me to judge me.” I tell her.

  Abby arrives with a drink for Vanessa and as they chat I scan the pub for Matt. He’s still leaning against the bar, chatting to group from our department. I consider joining them but Abby wanders off again.

  Vanessa watches her, mouth open then begins to drink quickly.

  “Thirsty?”

  “I don’t want to stay here if she’s not going to be around. I knew she’d do this.” Her gaze is fixed on Matt and Abby at the bar.

  “My company that bad?”

  She doesn’t reply. It’s Abby’s turn for Vanessa’s death stares.

  “For the record, I don’t think you’re stupid,” I say.

  “Really.”

  “Abby says you chose not to go to uni, even though you’re smart.” I continue. “Why do that?”

  She turns her green eyes back to me and for once they’re not looking at me like I’m pond life. “Freedom.”

  “Freedom? By working in a call center? Not my definition.”

  “Yes. Freedom from the stress of being what I don’t want to be. For not being what someone else wants me to be.”

  “Parents?”

  “Yep.”

  I nod even though I can’t completely understand. I get the need to escape the stranglehold of the past, I’m with her on that one. But why choose to work in a crappy job, instead of a few years of student freedom, before the real world hits.

  “What did they want you to be?” I ask.

  “A doctor.”

  “Woah. You’re definitely not stupid!”

  She smiles weakly. “I changed my mind at the last minute. Passed the entrance exams and everything. So sick of the nagging and comparisons. My older brother studied an Arts degree, an embarrassment to the family.”

  I stiffen. “I’m studying an Arts degree…”

  She rubs her reddening cheek. “I didn’t mean that…”

  “…that I’m stupid? Come full circle haven’t we?” I hear the hostility tingeing my words and her porcelain skin reddens further.

  “I didn’t picture you as an Arts student,” she sa
ys.

  “No?”

  “More sports science or something.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You look…” She grabs for words “Fit. I mean, healthy fit. Not…”

  Lowering my voice, I say, “Sexy fit?”

  I consider turning on my charms, seeing how far I can push her. I shouldn’t, not when she’s flustered from her belief she’s insulted me. The growing pink suits her face, gives her some color. She’s not my usual type but there’s something about her. A challenge. So, I smile my smile. The one they love.

  Vanessa folds her arms over her lovely chest. “I’m not interested.”

  I laugh at her, at the fact she doesn’t realize she’s thrown the gauntlet down between us with those words. “Fair enough.”

  Her tongue moistens her lips as she considers something and I imagine myself licking them too. “Which Arts degree?”

  “I’m an English major.”

  “You like poetry?”

  Could she sound anymore incredulous?

  “Is that so strange?”

  “Umm. Yes.” Vanessa twists her glass on the table. “Next you’ll be telling me you write poetry too.”

  “Nope, too busy corrupting innocent virgins with my sexy fit body.”

  Vanessa’s attempt at her customary stare is marred by the hint of embarrassment on her face. “Byron was a poet. And he was a bit like you.”

  “A bit like me?”

  “A bit of a misogynist.”

  I draw in a deep breath. I’m bored of this now. I don’t have to sit and be insulted by some chick who I have no chance of getting into bed. I don’t mind flirtatious battles of wills. But not when playing around won’t get me anywhere.

  “You like to put people in compartments?” I ask her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You call me a misogynist but I think you’re being fairly sexist. What about the girls doing the same as me? Are they using the guys they sleep with? Or would you call them worse names than misogynist”

  Vanessa shifts in her seat and picks up her drink. “No.”

  “So get to know someone before you make a decision about who they are.”