Just a Number (Thirst Trap #2)

29. Mel

Chapter twenty-nine

Mel

C assidy and Abby have been hounding me to go out with them. They tried to convince me I should front up at the bar during one of Alex’s shifts to prove that I was over him. What a stupid idea. I don’t need to prove anything. It’s put me in an antsy mood and I haven’t been able to settle on anything all evening. Zack’s still staying at his dad’s, but we have been talking, which gives me hope.

Tonight, it’s just me rattling around the house. I tried reading but couldn’t get into it, so in the end, I put the telly on and scrolled through the streaming services until I found a movie to watch. I’m not in the mood for comedy or romance, so I went with a psychological thriller. Not the best choice. I usually love true crime but this movie is creeping me out. It’s nearing the end, where we start to realise how fucking creepy the stalker guy is and all the things he’s been doing.

I’m sitting in the lounge with all the lights blaring because I’m a chicken-shit and can’t watch stuff like this in low light.

I watch as he spies on his victim. She’s just got home from the gym and is getting undressed for a shower as he creeps on her from the bushes in her garden.

“Shut the fucking curtains!” I can’t help but shout advice. Not that it will do her any good.

Suddenly, everything goes off at once, the lights, the television… the room is plunged into darkness without any warning and I can’t hold in my scream. My heart races, my breathing is erratic.

Then comes a banging at the door and I shriek again, convinced it’s my very own stalker come to murder me.

“Mel, open up.” I creep to the hallway, trying not to make any noise. “Come on, Mel.”

The relief washes over me when I realise it’s Alex. I undo the security chain and the lock and fling the door open.

He stands on the doorstep, chest heaving. “Are you okay?” His hands come up to my shoulders as he stares at me through the darkness. “I heard you scream. What’s wrong?”

“All the lights went off. The TV too.”

“I saw it go dark and then heard you scream. Had no idea what was going on.” Worry floods his voice.

I step to the side, gesturing for him to come in.

“I was in the middle of watching something scary. I genuinely thought someone was out to get me. You’re not here to murder me, are you?” My voice is shaky from the shock.

“Of course not.” He’s stepped inside but looking out towards the street. “The streetlights are still on, but there are a few houses that look completely dark. It looks like it might be a power cut.”

“Oh, okay.” I draw in a deep breath, my heart still trying to recover from the fright.

“If you hop online you can see if a fault has been reported.”

“Oh, yeah.” He’s so level-headed. How does he even know this stuff? “My phone’s in the lounge.”

“You come to the door without having your phone to ring for help if I was a murderer?”

“Shit, yeah, I did.” I wince, watching as he shakes his head. He closes the front door, turning the lock and redoing the security chain. He places his hand on my lower back and eases me forward.

“Let’s go find your phone and check.”

As much as I want to tell him to go and that I can deal with it by myself, I’m still shaky and grateful for his company.

“Is that you just getting home from work?” I ask, trying to act normal while my pulse still beats like a crazy drum.

“Yeah. I think Abby and Cassidy were expecting you.”

“Did they talk to you?” I try to look at the expression on his face but in the dark, it’s hard to see. He steers me into the lounge and I carefully make my way to the coffee table where I left my phone.

“Not really, just mentioned you might be in when I checked if they were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t they be okay?” I frown.

“They kept looking at me and talking. I’m surprised they didn’t accost me and bundle me down to the cellar for an interrogation. Did you hear about that?”

“Uh, no, but I did ask them to leave you alone and not talk about me. I got the impression they were trying to meddle.” I open up the browser on my phone, grateful for my mobile data with the wifi out, and search for power outages in my area. Alex stands just behind me, looking over my shoulder. It’s comforting having his steady presence behind me. He makes me feel safe.

“They’ve not been talking to me, Mel. Not since you ended things.” I wince at the hurt in his voice. Although I am glad they stopped meddling.

“I didn’t want them to bother you, not when I was the one to end things...” I try to explain myself.

“It’s okay.” He brushes a hand on my bicep as if to soothe me. “The page is open.” He points out.

When I put in the postal code on the power company’s website it comes up with an emergency outage. “Four hours. They’re saying it’s going to be at least that before it comes back on.”

“Have you got another torch to save your phone battery? Some candles?”

“I think there’s a torch in the laundry. And candles too. How do you know all this stuff?” I can’t hold the question in.

“Uhhh, my stepdad is useless and my mum panics in situations like this. I had to kinda figure it out as I went. Let’s go grab them and see if you have any spare I can borrow for tonight. I’m guessing the garage flat’s on the same circuit and will be out too.”

“Oh, um, let’s have a look.” We walk to the utility and I dig around in the cupboard there, pulling out a big torch, a box of emergency candles, and a lighter. A quick check and a sense of relief rolls over me when the torch comes on. “I don’t think I have another torch, but you could take some candles. Do you have matches or a lighter?”

“No, but I could go set up and then bring the lighter back to you. I can help you get yours set up first.”

Panic bubbles back up at the thought of him leaving.

“Can you stay?”

He stares at me. I must look a fright with the light from the torch.

He must be annoyed that I’m giving him such mixed messages. I break things off and now I’m asking him to stay. “It’s fine. You go, take the candles and lighter. I’ll be good with the torch.”

“I can stay,” he says quietly. “How about I sleep on the couch?”

“We could talk or play cards or something? I can’t see myself sleeping anytime soon.”

“Sure. Is it okay if I grab some water?”

“Of course. Are you hungry? I can find you a snack too.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I ate at the bar.” He takes a glass from the cupboard before filling it at the sink. I watch as he drinks it down and refills it.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I wish I was feeling more stable, that I could send him away and just be here by myself, but that stupid movie really spooked me. I don’t want to be alone. And if I send him away, I will probably spend the rest of the night, unable to sleep, freaking out at every little noise.

“Rummy,” Alex declares as he lays yet another winning hand down on the coffee table.

“How are you so bloody good at this?” I look across from where we’re sitting on the floor and watch a grin spread across his face.

“My Grandpa was a total card shark. He taught me. I haven’t played for ages though. Not since he…” His voice trails off. I reach across to lay my hand over his where he’s collecting up the cards to shuffle and deal again. “He died when I was eighteen. I’ve not really played since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds like you were close?”

“Yeah, we were. He used to watch me after school until my mum found out he’d been taking me to the betting shop. I always preferred that though to going home and potentially bumping into my stepdad.”

“When did your mum remarry?”

It’s hard to make out his features, but the candlelight casts a gentle glow on his face, and I can see that he’s trying to work it out.

“I was seven or eight, I think.”

“And your father…”

“I think he stuck around for a while after I was born, but I don’t remember him. There’s no contact. And anytime I bought it up with Mum, she brushed it off. In the end, I stopped asking.”

He’s shuffling the deck and the rhythmic motion of his hands with the cards draws my attention. He’s so good with his hands—the cards, the pottery, my body . I shut that thought down immediately.

“And you never got on with your stepfather?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“No. He and Mum had this whirlwind romance. They were only together for a couple of months before he moved in and they got married. The more I think about it, the more I think he saw an opportunity to own half the house. I guess they were happy together to start with, but I never see my mum smile anymore.” He pauses to draw in a breath, his focus on the wall. “And whenever Laura and I try to do stuff with her like take her out for brunch on her birthday, he just ruins it. Gets all shitty that we don’t invite him and whines at Mum until she says he has to come too. Then he usually picks apart the place we choose and the food and expects us to pay for his meal as well as Mum’s.” Our eyes meet, the reflection of the candlelight flickering in his.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

“It’s easier now that I'm older. I tend to avoid him at all costs. I just wish I could spend time with Mum without him there, but I can’t see that happening anytime soon.” He shrugs. “I’m grateful for the place to stay, Mel. It’s refreshing being away from that toxic environment.”

I give him a sad smile. He’s such an amazing guy that I wish things could be different, but hearing more about his family life just confirms I’m doing the right thing in letting him go. He needs to experience all the joys of being in his twenties with no responsibilities.

“I just wish…” his voice is pitched low, his stare intense. “... I just wish things could have worked between us.” His throat bobs with a swallow.

What can I say? I don’t know how to explain why I think he needs to do his own thing. I don’t want to sound condescending. My teeth worry my bottom lip. “I think it will be good for you to be footloose and fancy-free without a care in the world. Take this independence and run with it, Alex, before you’re tied up in responsibility. You have so much talent. You shouldn’t let anything hold you back from exploring that and seeing where you end up.”

“I can do that whilst being in a relationship.” He frowns as he says it.

“You don’t want to be stuck with me. I’m fifteen years older than you.”

“You don’t think I can decide that for myself?” His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing, and tension fills the space between us. A moment ago, we’d been chatting. Now it’s as if we’re preparing for battle. I can’t have him hung up on me. I can see all the possibilities that lie before him and I refuse to get in the way.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can decide. But I’m removing myself from the equation. I think you should take this opportunity to go and sow your wild oats.” I smile, trying to lighten the situation, but a cold sense of dread trickles over me as he pulls in a deep breath.

“You really want rid of me?” The pain laced in his voice makes my chest tight.

“No, but I want you to go and be a twenty-five-year-old. Go and live your life. Don’t tie yourself to me.”

“How long?” The question comes out between his gritted teeth.

“What do you mean?”

“How long should I go for? What is a suitable length of time for finding myself and sowing my wild oats?”

“I don’t know.”

“A month?”

I sigh. “No, more like a few years.”

“A few years?” His eyes bug open. “Six months.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Alex. I don’t expect…” My voice trails off as the heaviness in my chest deepens.

“You don’t expect me to come back to you.” He tips up my chin with a solitary finger, his gaze boring into mine. “Do you?”

I shake my head, desperate to contain the emotion threatening to bubble up inside me.

“Humour me, Mel. Tell me how long I need to stay away for. I’ll move out, you won’t see me. I’ll go live my life, but if I’m still thinking of you when that deadline hits, I’m coming back to you.”

Tears well in my eyes. He looks so fucking earnest that hope flutters within me and I allow myself to think about the possibility of him coming back to me. But I know it won’t happen. He’ll get on with his life and forget all about me. “A year,” I whisper.

He nods. “Okay. But you should know, I’m coming back. Mark the date. I’ll see you in a year.” He moves to touch my cheek and leans over the coffee table, pressing a kiss against my lips to seal his promise. “I’m gonna go. I’ll stay out of your way. And I’ll move out as soon as I can find somewhere.” He stands, looking impossibly tall, while I still sit on the floor, my legs tucked underneath me. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks.

I nod. It’s safe to say he’s taken my mind off my earlier fear. All I want to do is crawl into my bed, bury myself under the covers, and sleep. I don’t want the pain radiating in my chest or to spill the tears threatening to flood my eyes. I need to retreat.

“Lock the back door after me,” he calls as his footsteps carry him away from me. The back door closing with a click in the otherwise quiet house is more powerful than if he’d slammed it.