Chapter FOUR
Presley
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The phone number isn't any fucking good! The number Alicia gave me belongs to some stupid used car dealership.
I can't believe I'm not going to be able to contact her. I don't even know her first name, for Christ's sake! That's it; I'm never going to be able to find her again. All I've got to go on is her nickname, Abs. How the hell is that going to help me?
I've heard about people calling in on live radio shows before, in hopes of finding a person they they've only met once. I could try the same thing, but the idea makes me feel like a total loser.
Besides, she already has a boyfriend. The dude's an asshole, I could tell by the way he acted around her, but he was still obviously her boyfriend. I don't want to get her in any more trouble than I might already have caused her yesterday. I played with fire by pulling that stunt and anything could have happened. He might have caught us, hell; he could have beaten the crap out of me for making a move on his girl. He could have lost his temper with Abs for even talking to me. Shit—I hope she's okay.
I sit at my desk and all I can think about is the taste of her lips against mine. So sweet and luscious, she was amazing. I need to discover a way to find her, but I'm fairly certain I'm asking for the impossible.
After I kissed her last night, I didn't see her again. Her friend was still there, as was the moron with the tie, but she was nowhere to be seen. I even went outside, hoping she'd maybe slipped out of the show, but I didn't see .
Giving up frustrated, I went back inside and I tried to enjoy the rest of the show, thinking I'd be able to telephone her today. I have to admit, Muse is the best live band I've ever seen, I'm glad I stayed until the end, but I'm pissed that I may have lost her forever.
*****
The rest of the day was a very ordinary Saturday moping around, playing with different combinations of numbers and calling a dozen different wrong numbers. To my dismay, I still didn't find her.
On Sunday, sick of my glum mood, Joshua and Alicia forced me out of the apartment and into doing something constructive. They took me bowling. It was fun; I can't lie and say I didn't have a good time. I kicked both their butts, big time, which did put a smile on my face. Alicia was really sorry that she got the phone number wrong, but she promised to keep her eyes open and try to find her. How she's going to do that, I don't know—this is a big city and there are a lot of people in it. But hey, I'm desperate, and I'll take any help I can get if it means seeing my mystery woman again.
After two lethargic days, Monday couldn't have come any sooner. It's been three days since I've met her and three days since I've lost her. I'm suffering from a sense of helplessness. My desire to find her is incredibly strong. There's this voice inside my head, promising me I will find her again, but when? How?
I felt something extraordinary when I was with her. I desperately want to experience that feeling again. She is so special and stunningly beautiful. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew how amazing she was and I know she experienced the same thing as I did. The little moan which escaped her lips when we kissed told me how much she loved it. I'm not an idiot. She isn't the first girl I've kissed in my life and had them moan in pleasure, but it was never like this with any other woman. There is something about her that I can't describe. She's the whole package – her smile, her eyes and those lips.
I don't know what to do with myself. Grabbing a note pad and start sketching her from memory. It's an okay drawing, but it doesn't do her justice.
My door is pushed open. Nobody ever knocks around here.
"C'mon in, Ali.''
Her heels click across the wooden floor into the office. ''What are you doing? Working?'' she questions.
''Nah, not working. Just messing around. Nothing important.'' I don't tell her that I'm sketching my mystery woman, because Ali already feels lousy enough about the phone number situation. I know she didn't do it intentionally; the concert was so fucking loud, I understand how she could have gotten the numbers messed up.
''Joshua's working tonight, do you have any plans?'' Ali asks. She fiddles with some of the gear on my desk as she talks.
''No, I don't have anything on. Have any ideas?''
''We could order in food and watch horror movies?'' For a girl, Ali is pretty tough. She adores horror movies, and absolutely nothing freaks her out.
''Sounds like a good plan.''
Ali grinned. ''Alright, it's a plan."
Just like that, Ali's managed to keep me occupied for another night. When she clicks back out of the office, my eyes settle back on the sketch and yeah, it really does resemble my mystery woman. I add a little green shading to her eyes and a touch of raspberry pink to her lips. I keep thinking about the need to find her. I don't know anything about her—just enough to drive me completely fucking insane.
Abbie
Over a week has passed. Dean hasn't been seen around the apartment complex in two days. Thank God.
I was way overdue for some fresh air. Walking towards the theatre I find myself thinking about him; that mystery man with the intoxicating lips. Lost in the memory, I touch my fingers over my lips and wish it was him again. My blood was racing sufficiently now and my heart was beating so loudly I could hear it over the cars on the road. It was time for a drink and lucky for me there was a bar directly across from the theater. I sucked in a deep breath from the cool breeze and let myself calm down. I looked for any cars and as soon as there were none, I ran across the street and went right in.
When I walked into the bar the first thing that came into view were all the posters declaring that it was ladies night—my luck was continuing. You couldn't go wrong with a buck for beer. Okay, there were many ways this could go wrong, but I needed that release from all the tension in my life. I order a beer and sip it slowly and let my eyes wander over the others seated at the bar. My mind once again wanders to that unforgettable kiss and I'm sure I'm blushing. By now I'm certain Blondie didn't get the phone number correct, I'm positive he would have called by now, if he'd had the right number. I should've gone searching for her, made sure she'd gotten it right, but I'm an idiot; what else can I say? I didn't expect that night to end the way it did. It's terrible. Pathetic actually, to think I'm pining over a guy I met once and have no way of finding.
I am getting ready to order a second beer, when the bartender places one in front of me. His treat, he says. I smile at him and nod my thanks.
I start thinking about my situation...that I'm living in Seattle, while trying to make a living. How I recently completed my studies, which was the whole reason for moving here in the first place. Up until a week ago, I had exactly three friends—all of whom I can now forget about. So, I'm basically alone in this big city and the only damn person who cares is a bartender. Great!
The depressing range my thoughts cycle through and naturally, bring me down into a deep funk. By the time I'm drinking a fifth beer, I can see people coming out of the theatre across the road. There was a play performing tonight. I find myself searching the crowds, like an idiot, hoping that I will see a guy named 'Something Williams' come out. I start to think I really should go home now because I'm getting dizzy. I didn't eat before I left the apartment, so the beers are rapidly taking effect. This is not good.
I stumble out of the bar and wait in line for a taxi.
''Abs, what are you doing here!'' A female voice asks.
. For a second, I feel all oxygen gone from my lungs as I fear it might be Jesse. What am I supposed to tell her now? I'm surprised to discover it's a blonde girl and she looks familiar but I don't remember her name or where I last saw her. The adrenaline still pumping in my veins, I try to calm down.
''I'm waiting for a cab, isn't... Isn't it obvious?" I giggle like a lunatic, tripping over my own shoes and end up collapsing on my knees at her feet. She helps me to my feet, and I lean against the wall and watch her grab her phone from her bag.
''Where are you, freak? I need you to get your ass over here, right now. I'm at the Lucky 13 bar.'' She wraps one arm around my shoulders, making sure I don't fall over for a second time. Despite my drunkenness, I'm worried.
''Wait...wait...who did you call? Who are you?'' I question. Oh my God! She's that girl from the concert and she just called . This is an absolute nightmare; I'm a drunken mess, and utterly mortified.
''You'll be fine. He's going to take you home, before you manage to hurt yourself again.''
We lapse into an uncomfortable silence. I struggle to figure out a way to get out of him seeing me like this. Maybe if I give her my phone number again? I don't want him to see me in this state.
A BMW pulls up in front of us, and he gets out. From the look in his eyes, he's utterly shocked.
''She's had a few drinks; I think you should take her home,'' the blonde says, and I vaguely recollect her name being Ali. "And you owe me another huge favor, freak."
''What the hell happened to you?" he questions gently. "Why are you here at the bar by yourself and why are you so drunk?'' He's obviously concerned and asking way too many questions for my liking. Not to mention being a lot bossy. He wraps a protective arm around my shoulder and I feel my whole body tensed.
I shrug him off and stumble slightly. ''I dumped the loser I was with last week. It's over and I was alone and bored, so I came to Lucky 13 to relax and unwind for a while.'' My eyes begin to tear up and I have no idea why. Maybe, I need to keep my distance from him, I don't know him at all. I should be more careful. Stepping away, I trip on my own feet and almost fall down the sidewalk. Of course, he catches me just in time. His arm around me feel so good. I am safe, something I haven't been in a long time and I'm bereft without his touch.
His gray eyes soften and he offers me a faint smile. It feels like everything around me is in slow motion. Staring at him, I'm fascinated by his smile. ''Come on, get in the car. I'll drive you home. I'm Presley, Presley Williams, by the ."
Even if I'm drown to his sex appeal, I'm still uncertain about him. Should I trust him or not? I hesitate for a couple of seconds but I decide to follow my instinct. Somehow, I have a good feeling about him. Maybe, it's his lucky day. "Abbie... Abbie Rylee."
"Where do you live, Abbie?''
''The Bellevue Towers.''
Presley offers me a wicked grin. ''Let me know if you're going to be sick, okay? I like my car.''
Is he serious? I'm not that drunk...am I? ''Don't worry,'' I mutter, a flush of embarrassment working its way over my cheeks.
''Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you.'' His voice is low, his tone sincere.
''Just take me home, please.'' I'm so tired.
He settles me into the passenger seat, gets in the car and turns on the music. Muse is playing softly through the speakers. I can sense his eyes turning towards me every five seconds, but I don't mind. I can't believe I'm actually sitting in his car. The beers I've consumed are affecting my judgement badly and I keep wishing he would touch me.
Presley parks at the entrance of my apartment. He gets out and strides around the front of the car to my door, opening it for me. He offers me his hand. I hesitate...and when I peek up at him, I notice he's grinning. I look cautiously at his hand for a second time, before taking .
''We want the South Tower,'' I say. I find myself telling him my apartment number, before he even asks.
We catch the elevator and he pushes the button for the seventh floor. He never releases my hand and the electric energy is there again. His hand warms mine up, his touch feels ecstatic. I find myself wishing I lived on the top floor, so I could hold onto him for just a little bit longer.
When we get to my apartment, I release his hand to retrieve my keys from my pocket. He watches quietly as I unlock the door and step inside, but he remains outside. I realize he won't come in unless I invite him. I'm not used to that sort of politeness. I was however, used to Dean's controlling attitude and he never would have asked to come in. He would have waltzed right in—whether he was invited or not.
''Would you like to come in?'' I ask shyly. I'm not really sure if I want him to come inside. I mean, this could be a disaster—what I've built this up to be inside my head, it might be better than reality. Presley comes in, smiling like he's won the lottery. To my surprise, he stops me in the doorway, puts his hands around my waist and holds me. We both want to feel it again, this connection between us. We stand together for quite some time; Presley smells really good and his chest is so comfortable to rest my cheek against.
''Well, well, well...that was fast Abbie. You obviously dumped me for this shithead.'' I swiftly step away from Presley, knowing the night is about to take a turn for the worse. This is bad; this is really, really bad. Dean is here, in my apartment. I'm freaking out in a very bad way.
I push Presley out the front door and close it quickly. I don't give either
''Dean, wh... what are you doing here?" I stumble. "I told you, we're done." I wait to see if he has something to say but he's simply looking at me in disgust. "I meant it. It's... It's over. I'm not going to get back together with you, ?'' My voice is shaking and weak. I'm scared, so fucking scared. By the grim expression on his face, I know he's seriously pissed.
''You must be fucking kidding me, right? You're nothing without me! You have no friends, no family. You only have your job and this fucking place. You never go out; you're a hermit, a loner. I'm all you have, Abbie! You can't just throw me away!''
Dean was right about one thing, I was a loner—but I was definitely going to throw him away.
I inhaled sharply, building up my courage to speak. ''Actually, I can and I am. You need to leave now, please, and give me my keys back. The security code of my apartment will be changed in the morning so don't even try getting back in my apartment again.''
''Fucking bitch! Who the fuck was that guy? He's the one from the concert, right? Were you going to let him fuck ?" Dean is standing in the middle of the living room while I'm still standing by the door. He's furious. His face has gone scarlet red and the rage in his eyes scares the shit out of me. My hands are trembling. I hope Presley has gone; I don't want him to hear all the mean things Dean is about to say to me.
''Answer me!'' Dean roars and the sudden noise startles me. He moved while I was scrambling to get my thoughts together, and now stands two inches away from my face. Tears fill my eyes as I look into his, trying to connect with the Dean I once knew, but that man is long gone.
''No, of course I wasn't,'' I protest shakily.
.'' He's shouting so loudly, I'm certain the neighbors can hear him.
I squeeze my eyes shut hoping he'll just disappear. Instead, a powerful slap connects with my face. The force behind the blow is so strong that it knocks me to the floor. I'm crying and shrieking, just begging him to stop. To my horror, Dean draws his foot back, intending to kick me in the ribs when the door bursts open and the doorknob slams into the wall.
facing Dean and he looks utterly dangerous—they both do.
''Presley! Please, just leave!'' I don't want him to get hurt.
''Abbie, go into the kitchen,'' Presley orders. His grey eyes are utterly terrifying, filled with anger and he's staring at Dean as if he wants to kill him.
''Please...Presley,'' I beg.
'I'm not leaving, Abbie. He is.'' Presley lowers his gaze to mine for a split-second and his eyes soften, his protectiveness shining through.
Dean takes advantage and tries to hit Presley in the face, but Presley reacts swiftly and hits Dean first. , and he grabs him easily by pushing him out of the apartment. I'm surprised at the sight of Presley's bicep, he's fit. He closes and locks the door, leaning his forehead against it for a few seconds.
He finally turns to look at me and I notice his knuckles are bleeding. The side of my face is burning and I'm sobbing, a combination of fear and pain making me distraught. This is not how I wanted to spend this night, not after finding Presley when I thought all hope was lost.
''I'm not leaving you alone, Abbie—not after what just happened. Okay?" Presley informs me, as he leans over and helps me up. He brushes his fingers tenderly across my swelling cheek and lifts me into his arms, striding into the living room and lowering me onto the couch.
''Do you have ice, or something cold we can use as an icepack?''
"In the kitchen,'' I say. I'm about to scramble off the couch and get something myself, but Presley walks into the kitchen before I can move. This is so wrong, I feel like a complete moron. I can't seem to stop crying. I'm ashamed of myself and humiliated by Dean's actions.
''Hold this on your face Abbie.'' Presley hands me a bag of frozen peas. He tucks my hair behind my ear and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. ''I'm sorry; I snooped through all your kitchen cupboards, trying to find some Tylenol.'' He hands me a glass of water and a couple of tablets.
After I take the Tylenol, Presley sits beside me and gently places his palm against my cheek. ''I'm sorry. I know this is entirely my fault. I was acting like a fool at the concert. I didn't think; I was being selfish wanting to meet you and I didn't stop to think about what that bastard would do. I could tell he was jealous at the concert.''
''I broke up with him last Friday. I've been hiding in here all week. This was my first time outside in a week and he caught me out, getting in while I was gone.'' I'm trying to hold back the tears. ''But you should know this isn't your fault at all. I was at the concert too, I could've pushed you away, but I didn't.'' A tiny smile makes its way onto my lips. ''That was the best kiss I've ever had,'' I admit quietly.
He blinks slowly and takes my hand in his. ''I'm so sorry he hit you; I shouldn't have let that happen. I'm sorry.'' He kisses the hand he's holding.
I can't help but smile again. ''Thank you.'' For everything. For saving my life. For existing.
He remains silent for a few minutes. ''If you want, I could call Alicia. Maybe she could spend the night with you?'' Presley glances at his watch. ''You could talk about what happened, you know, women seem to like doing that." He shrugs, looking embarrassed. "I don't know much about this stuff.'' He hesitates. ''Or maybe you could call one of your friends.''
''No, it's fine. Thanks for the offer." I lowered my gaze. "Besides, you heard him, I don't have friends, I'm alone here in Seattle.''
''I could sleep on the couch, just to make sure he doesn't come back.'' Presley pauses, rubbing a hand across his jaw. ''I don't think I would be able to forgive myself, if I learn he came back and hurt you again.''
The thought is tempting and I readily agree. ''Yeah, that sounds good. I'd like it if you could stay.'' I squeeze his hand. I'm no longer capable of smiling, my face feels swollen.
''Look at you—you're trembling Abbie. Maybe you should take a bath and try and relax for a while. I'll stay out here and watch TV.''
''Sure. Actually, that sounds like a great idea.''
A few minutes later, I'm standing naked in the bathroom staring at the mirror. A few hours ago, I'd thought I looked reasonably pretty. Now, I look like shit. My mascara is running all over my face, and my left cheek is in really bad shape. Every muscles of my body is hurting and I can't barely stand. My day took a turn I would have never expected and I wasn't mentally ready for it. My mind and body are both completely exhausted.
Presley is sitting in my living room watching TV. I'd rather die than have him see me like this, but it's too late to worry about it now. I'm an absolute mess, but having someone here for the night is comforting. What if Dean comes back? I hope he doesn't.
There's nothing better when you feel like crap than soaking in a hot bath. It should relax my body and ease my pain. I add some vanilla and lilac essential oils to the water. I might look like shit but at least I'll smell .
Settling back in the bathtub, my thoughts turn to my father. What would my dad think? What would he have done about this situation? He would have either killed Dean or had him arrested. He never liked him. I should've listened to Dad on that one. I miss Dad, so much. He was the only good parent I'd had and cancer had to take him away from me. I'll never stop missing him.
When he was alive, Dad worked as an investigator for the Washington State Police. He could've easily gotten killed in the line of duty, but he was always so careful. He was a great man, a very respected man, and a great judge of character. He warned me to be careful with Dean.
From my father, my thoughts turned to my biological mother, Erin. I haven't talked to her in months; in fact, I'm not even certain where she's at. She's never really cared about me, and never acted like a real mom, so I'm certainly not going to ask her for advice. Last time I saw Erin was at Dad's funeral two years ago. I've only spoken to her once on the phone since then. We have nothing in common and I've never forgiven her for the way she behaved after she and Dad got divorced. Erin dated a bunch of younger men and she's been married twice since divorcing my dad. Erin needs advice regarding men even more than I do.
I've had enough of thinking and enough of the bath. I stand up in the water and step out of the tub, reaching for the towel.
Wow, my head is spinning. My vision is suddenly blurry and I feel off-balance and nauseous. I slip on the wet tiles and hit my head on the corner of the vanity.
''God, dammit!'' I shout. I'm gonna be sick. I crawl to the toilet bowl and only just make it in time. The towel has slipped down to my waist; I'm trying to hold my own hair out of the way and I can't stop retching. This is really bad. Every part of my body is hurting.
And just when I thinkthe night can't get any worse, it proves me wrong.