April's Glow (10 page)

‘Hey, don't change the subject,' he replied.

‘But it'll only take you a second to tell me.'

‘If I tell you now, then you'll ask me about my other tatts and explaining them all could take quite a long time.' He crossed his arms in front of his plate. ‘So, April's Glow. Spill.'

‘Okay, okay.' As she began talking he uncrossed his arms and resumed eating. ‘Well, there
is
the reference to glowing candles, and my name, but the thing is, when I was a child, I had a skin condition called rosacea. It gave me these inflamed red patches on my face, around my cheeks, and I hated looking different to other kids.' She took a quick mouthful of food then continued. ‘Anyway, to make me feel better, my mum used to tell me that I had red cheeks because there was so much love inside me that it was bursting to get out and be shared with everyone. She didn't tell me it was called rosacea until I was older. Up until I found out she had always called it
April's Glow
. She made it sound like a special thing.' April smiled. ‘So once she told me that, I wore my red cheeks with pride. If anyone asked why they were so red I'd say: “It's April's Glow”. Some people would laugh and others would say “why don't
my
cheeks glow?”.'

Zac gazed at her with interest as she patted her cheeks.

‘It eventually went away, as you can see my cheeks are perfectly normal now, except when—'

‘When you drop embarrassing items on my front doorstep.'

April paused with her fork in midair. ‘Um, yep.' She lowered her gaze. ‘And they're probably glowing a bit right now.'

Zac laughed. ‘Sorry, couldn't resist.'

April shrugged. ‘Anyway, when I got the idea for the candle store, I thought how candles make people feel good, or, like you said, give people hope, and I was reminded of how my mother made me feel better about my condition. So the name seemed like the perfect fit.' She rested her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together above her plate.

Zac nodded slowly. ‘Nice. I like it. Much better background story than me calling my dinner Wednesday Chicken simply because I made it on a Wednesday.'

‘Yeah, it's always better for things to have a greater meaning. Speaking of which, what does your tattoo mean, huh?' She leaned forward, pinning him with her determined stare.

He glanced at his wrist. ‘It's the symbol for strength.'

‘Oh. See? Only took you a second to tell me.'

He stayed silent.

‘Unless, is there more to it? And why the wrist?' Something told her that he wouldn't be the type to get a tattoo just because it looked good or seemed like a cool idea; with his deep mind surely each would have significant meaning.

‘I told you what it means, now I get to ask you a question,' he said.

April leaned back a little. ‘Okay, fair enough.'

‘Do you have a tattoo?'

April took a big breath. ‘I did. But sadly, my tattoo is no more.'

Zac looked confused for a moment; then, as she glanced down at her prosthesis he opened his mouth in realisation. ‘No way. Really?'

‘Yes way. Of all the places to get a tattoo and it just so happens to be on the part of me that I end up losing. Loved that tattoo too.' Her smile disappeared.

‘Have you thought about getting it redone on your other leg?'

April's eyes widened. ‘No. I can't.'

‘Why not?'

She pushed back a clump of wavy hair from her face. ‘Because it wouldn't feel right.' She could feel her face warming up, even though she wasn't embarrassed. ‘What if … It could …'

She stopped trying to form sentences when Zac's hand covered hers. ‘It's okay. You don't have to tell me.'

She looked at his hand on top of hers, and his forearm with its manly skin and light shading of hair, corded veins, and the shadows formed by his sculpted muscles. It was as beautiful and unique as the grainy wooden table that lay beneath their connected hands.

She looked back into his cinnamon-speckled green eyes. He knew. Somehow, he knew that she had the invalid fear that if she got another tattoo, the same fate might manifest for her remaining leg. But she didn't want to talk about fears. Wouldn't. He may be comfortable with getting in touch with his inner self and reading all those books and pouring his heart out into poetry, but
she
wasn't. She was comfortable with living her day-to-day life, being out in the world, talking to people. But interestingly,
he
wasn't. They were like opposites. Magnetically attracted to balance each other out. One thing they did have in common was the ability to ask direct and honest questions and think them perfectly valid and not at all confronting or inappropriate. But being on the receiving end of those questions … she wasn't used to that. Zac challenged her. He was a mirror, and she wasn't sure she was ready to look closely at the reflection.

Her hand flinched a little and he removed his. ‘I might get another tattoo one day, but not on the leg. And not the same one,' she said.

‘Can I ask what it was?'

‘Seems silly, but it was a tattoo of my budgie that I had as a kid. My first and favourite pet. I took a photo in and the artist made a design from it, and did the tattoo in full colour. Budge, his name was.'

‘The bird or the tattoo artist?'

April laughed. ‘What do you think?'

Zac laughed too, lightening the mood.

‘So you still haven't asked what happened to my leg,' she mused.

‘Do you want me to?'

‘I don't know. It's usually the first thing most people ask me.'

‘I'm not most people.'

‘I've discovered that.'

They both took another mouthful of food, then a sip of drink, like they really were in a mirror.

‘Okay, so tell me, if you like, what happened?' Zac asked.

‘Car accident.' She filled him in on the details of the crash and how her fiancé had ended up paralysed. She didn't fill him in on the details of her recovery, which was as much emotional as it was physical.

‘You're a strong woman, April.' He stood and refilled their drinks.

She lowered her gaze. ‘Maybe I should get a tattoo like yours.' Why couldn't she accept a compliment with a simple thanks? She
was
strong, had earned the compliment.

‘Something tells me you'd suit something a bit more “out there”,' he said. ‘Maybe a butterfly, or hey, if you like some of the insight in the book, you could have one of the phrases tattooed.'

‘Skin poetry huh?' She nodded. ‘Not a bad idea. Do you have any?' Her eyes cast a subtle scan down the length of his body.

Was her subconscious using her interest in his tattoos to try to get him half naked?

He turned around and she thought he was going to take his shirt off, but he simply lifted the back of it up a little, exposing a sentence in cursive font tattooed on his lower back:

As my heart beats, so too does yours

‘Not really poetry, but close enough,' he said.

‘It's nice.' The tattoo, and his skin. ‘And the reason for it?' She resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. Touch him. His skin was like a warm fireplace, enticing her towards it.

‘To remind people that we're all the same. We're all in life together, no matter our differences.'

‘Huh.' April kept her gaze on the tat, until his shirt dropped down over it and he returned to his chair. ‘I like that. So, you walk around shirtless quite a lot?'

He chuckled. ‘Used to, in summer anyway. But now I don't do so much walking around, except in quiet places. Nature, secluded beaches, for example.'

April nodded. ‘Well, I feel privileged to have seen the tattoo that others are being deprived of.'

‘It's nice to show it off for the first time in a long while.' He smiled, then his hand moved to his wrist tattoo and he rubbed it a little. ‘Anyway, enough about tattoos, would you like second helpings of the Chicken With No Name?'

April took the last mouthful, then replied, ‘No thanks. It was delicious, but I'm full.'

Zac stood and picked up their plates. ‘Satisfying Chicken?' he suggested, a curious crease in his brow.

‘Pathetic,' she said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. ‘You can do better than that. I mean, with the name. The chicken was far from pathetic!'

‘Nice save,' he said. ‘I was about to throw you out.' He chuckled as he walked to the kitchen, rinsed the plates then placed them in the dishwasher.

She stood too and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I'm glad we're finally talking like proper human beings. Most of the time,' she said. ‘I was trying to get to know you these past couple of weeks, but it didn't seem like you wanted to all of a sudden. But this is nice. So thanks.'

Zac turned to face her. ‘My pleasure. And sorry if I was a bit distant, was just dealing with some stuff.'

She held up her hands. ‘Hey, no worries. And I'm a bit of a nosy person, so I wouldn't have been offended if you simply didn't want to tell me your life story.'

‘Well, we've started making up for the past two weeks tonight,' Zac said.

‘We have. But in my mind are at least another three hundred and fifty-seven nosy questions, so watch out.' She pointed his way.

A curious expression crinkled his face. ‘How about thirty-six?'

‘Huh?'

‘Have you heard of the thirty-six questions that went viral on the internet?'

‘No, and that worries me, because I spend a lot of time on Facebook. How could I have missed something that went viral?' She feigned shock and brought her hands to her cheeks.

‘There was a lot of hype about this list of questions that had the potential to help people fall in love, but the research and story behind it was interesting. It's about deepening connection between two people, whether they be friends, lovers, or strangers, by facilitating mutual vulnerability and self-disclosure. It's like a fast track to emotional intimacy.'

‘Sounds scary.'

Zac leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter. ‘Not really, you just answer questions about who you'd invite over for dinner, what you'd most regret not doing or saying in life, what you'd take from your house if it was on fire, that sort of stuff.'

Curiosity swirled up inside, but a slight hint of tension crept through her muscles. Vulnerability was something she didn't care to feel. She could chat and gossip like a pro, but how open and honest she was depended entirely on the nature of the topic.

‘So what do you say, wanna do them?' His unblinking eyes awaited her agreement.

‘Are you saying you want me to fall in love with you, Zac?' A flirty tone sweetened her voice and she put one hand on her hip.

‘No, I'm saying do you want to do the thirty-six questions and see if we can make up for the past two weeks of me being a distant, boring neighbour, while you were being your normal, nosy self?'

April's amused laughter filled the house, and from somewhere Zac's cat meowed.

She could just say
no
. Say thanks for dinner and be on her merry way, but Zac had opened some kind of invisible door inside that she hadn't known was there. She didn't exactly want to answer thirty-six questions about herself, though the three he'd mentioned sounded okay. But, she desperately wanted to hear
his
answers, and it was that reason that made her say ‘yes'.

‘Awesome! I'll get us some dessert and snacks and we can move over to the couch and get started.'

What am I getting myself into?

‘Ah, Zac?' she said.

‘Yeah?' He looked up from the fridge where he had bent down to get something from the freezer.

‘I have a name for your meal,' she replied. ‘Since I have no idea how you got me to agree to this … this … experiment thingy, and we've revealed a few significant things about our lives already, I've deduced that there must be some kind of truth-extracting ingredient in your chicken.' She planted her hands on the kitchen counter. ‘I officially name your meal: Truth Chicken.'

Zac straightened up. He held a tub of something up in the air. ‘And we have a winner!'

And she had officially decided that she was crazy, knowing full well she couldn't back out of this now, and hadn't even thought to ask to see the actual questions first. They were most likely, most definitely, about to become more than just neighbours, in the weirdest, most unconventional, yet irresistibly intriguing way.

Excitement surged through Zac's bloodstream. He had been longing to find someone to do the questions with. But with his solitary existence, there hadn't been many options. He knew deep down it was probably a bad idea, and he'd been advised to distance himself from April for the past two weeks, but today, on this day that marked remembrance, he wanted to remember other things too. What it felt like to look into someone's eyes for longer than a simple glance. To talk openly for hours. To be heard, noticed, understood. What it felt like to tell someone else about your life, your journey, your dreams. And to listen to theirs and see that spark in their eyes, that light that reminded him he wasn't the only one trying to move forward in life and find meaning with his existence.

And dammit, he wanted to know her.
Really
know her. Maybe he had moved next door to her for a reason. The universe could have planted him there on purpose and he had to discover why. Or maybe it was a test, a challenge, to see how strong he really was. To see if he could resist knowing her, discovering her, wanting her.

Either way, tonight he was going to do what he damn well wanted. And the fact that the questions were structured and systematic gave him some kind of control. Unlike random conversation that went in multiple directions and could be more dangerous, this conversation would have a beginning, a middle, and an end. He just had to follow the process, and then it'd be done. He'd know April a little more, she'd know him, and he could finally feel those things he'd wanted to feel again. If only for a little while. Then he could get back to his plan.