Amnesia (Completed, Being Edited)

Seven: Tease

These are the songs that Evetta plays in this chapter:

Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet - Montagues and Capulets

Concerto in B Minor op. 35 - Oskar Rieding

***

I didn't twist my foot this time; secretly, I'm very proud of that fact.

It's been a few weeks since we went to Trafalgar Square, and Evetta and I spend almost every afternoon together. Usually, she'll come by my house after work and just stay with me. Sometimes, she'll spend the night; other times, I'll spend the night at her house.

One thing keeps bothering me, though; I haven't gone back to work. I'm almost afraid to go back, to face it again. I'm afraid of the looks of pity, or disgust, or derision; I'm afraid of the treatment that I'll receive there. What will my secretary think? The groundskeeper? My colleagues? I have no idea what to expect from them, and it scares me more than it should.

More than anything, I feel like a coward; here I have a girlfriend who is as close to perfection as they come, going to work every day to earn a living, and I won't go to work because I'm afraid that the big kids will pick on me.

I'm such a pussy.

I want to be more than that for Evetta. She deserves more than a wuss who can't go back to work and face possible hostility because he misplaced his figurative balls somewhere along the line during his fourteen month coma; she deserves a man with a spine, and for her, I'm determined to grow one.

***

I'm at Evetta's house today, and I prefer being here with her; she lives here alone, and it's nice to know that there are no intruders.

Sitting up in her bed, I hear a sound coming from downstairs.

It sounds as if she's... playing the violin. The song sounds familiar; I swear I've heard it somewhere before.

Curiously, I clamber down the stairs to watch her; shes wearing a long, baggy t-shirt, and she's playing in the lounge, her hair wet from being washed, the turquoise ends looking deep aquamarine.

"What piece was that?" I ask curiously once she's done playing.

"Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet - Montagues and Capulets."

"Oh. Well, it was amazing."

"Well, I try," she says, giving me a grin, and then turning around to place the violin back in its case. It's only when she turns around to put the violin in it's case on the floor, that I realise that she isn't wearing any shorts under her baggy t-shirt.

She bends over, not bothering to crouch, and I stare, my hard-on growing by the second. Unexpectedly, she looks at me from between her legs, and grins.