April's Glow (12 page)

His mind probed deeper … what sorts of experiences would he want? What would he want to feel? What risks would he take? In what way would he be spontaneous? The answers came in the shape of her face, the subtle complexity of her eyes, and the cute bow of her lips. He'd done a lot in his life already, taken a lot of risks, experienced things not everyone got to experience. But he'd never experienced … love. Real love. Though he wasn't ready, something inside made him crave it. Maybe it was because he'd never felt like he belonged as a child, when no one wanted him. He'd been too boisterous and challenging. But now, now he was older, different, and in need of companionship. But that alone would not be enough one day. He wanted,
needed
, more.

‘So you'd basically live life to the full,' she said.

‘Yep.' An image of himself dying flashed through his mind, in despair at having missed out on the things he was currently missing out on. ‘And I would also have lots of sex.'

A laugh shot from April's mouth. ‘With the same person or multiple partners?'

‘That depends.'

‘On what?'

‘On whether the person I wanted wanted me.' He couldn't believe where this conversation was heading.

‘And if they didn't?'

‘Then I guess I'd go for the multiple partners option.' But somehow he knew that wouldn't result in the type of satisfaction he craved.

‘And if they
did
?'

“Then … I'd seriously hope I didn't only have one year to live.”

His gaze connected with hers as his answer met with silence. They both knew how precious life was. How it could be gone, or irrevocably changed, in the blink of an eye. And she knew what it was like to have found the love of her life but be unable to be with him.

Whether these questions could make people fall in love, who knew? But he was definitely feeling a stronger connection with her.

April ate a cracker, then said, ‘If you could choose anyone, who would it be? And don't say Megan Fox.'

‘To have lots of sex with?' He raised his eyebrows. ‘I don't think that's on the question list, neighbour.'

‘I know. I'm just asking, while we're on the topic. Neighbour.' She eyed him with a curious and cheeky gaze. ‘Be honest.'

His heart rate intensified as images flashed in his mind that he didn't know if he should be thinking. ‘If I found out right now, in this moment, that I only had a year to live … I think I would want to have it with you, actually.'

A cracker crumb fell from her lips and she froze.

‘You wanted me to be honest.' He held up his palms.

Her cheeks became pink. ‘Out of every possible woman in the world, you're telling me you would want
me
?' She tapped her fingers against her chest.

He looked away from her stare. ‘Well, I'm guessing if I only had a year, maybe I wouldn't be well enough to travel far, so the fact that you're my next-door neighbour is quite convenient. And you already know a lot about me, so we wouldn't have to waste extra time getting to know each other. Makes perfect sense.'
Any excuse.

She laughed again, but with a high-pitched hint of discomfort. ‘What makes you think I would even want to … to … do that … with you?'

Her embarrassment was adorable. ‘I'm sure you'd take pity on a dying man, yeah?' He exaggerated a wink.

‘Umm …' She grabbed two crackers. ‘I have no idea how to respond to that.'

‘April … what's your surname?'

‘Vedora.'

‘April Vedora, have I made you speechless?'

‘No, I'm just hungry.' She gobbled up her crackers, took another, and pointed to her mouth. ‘See? It's rude to eat and talk.'

‘But you're doing it.'

A smile attempted to escape from her lips. ‘Guess I'm rude then.'

‘Guess you are.'

She chuckled and another crumb fell from her mouth. ‘I'm also messy. Sorry.' She brushed her lap with her hands.

April told him how she'd spend her life if she only had a year to live, trying to fit in as much as possible, and every now and again adding ‘Oh! And I'd do blah-blah…' and ‘Oh! How could I forget blah-blah …' He found it rather cute.

When question twenty-eight came around, it was easy.

‘What do I like about you? Hmm, that's a tough one,' he said, rubbing his jaw between his fingers and pretending to experience great difficulty.

She whacked him on the arm.

‘Okay, okay. I like that you're honest and not afraid of speaking your mind. You just say stuff. Regardless of how the other person might respond.'

‘Huh.' She nodded with a small smile. ‘Thank you. Some might say that's a negative trait.'

‘Then they would be the ones who would want to hear what they want to hear rather than the truth. The truth is always better.'

‘I'm glad I can continue to be my honest, direct self with you then,' she said, then glanced around. ‘You need some colour in this place, Zac. Are you trying to depress me or something?'

He sat up straighter. ‘Hey, I happen to like neutral, earthy colours, thank you very much.'

‘And I'm saying it needs some colour. A bit of earthy red, a splash of purple even. Maybe I'll get you some more candles.'

‘You do that.'

She grinned. ‘Okay, guess I better rack my brain for something I like about you. Umm …' She mimicked his jaw rubbing.

‘It doesn't have to be one thing. You can say multiple things, if you're having trouble narrowing them all down.'

She whacked his arm again and he laughed. He was starting to enjoy being attacked by her.

She eyed him like he was a specimen she was examining under a microscope. ‘I'll give you three.' She bent one of her fingers with another, beginning her countdown. ‘Firstly, I like your conversation skills. At first I thought you were weird, but now I think you're interesting.' She bent another finger. ‘Secondly, I like how you go with the flow. Like, you're relaxed and don't seem to let things bother you. Then again, maybe that's because you don't have a business to run and have the freedom to be a lazy bum all day.'

He whacked her arm this time.

‘And thirdly, I like …' She eyed him up and down. ‘Oh what the hell, I'll just say it. Your bod is pretty impressive, dude. Okay, all done, is your ego nicely stroked?'

Warmth spread through his body.
Oh yes, it sure was …

‘Oh, only three questions to go,' April said around half an hour later. ‘Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?'

‘Easy. My photo up there.' He pointed above the fireplace to the picture of him and Johnny in their uniforms. ‘It means a lot to me. Other stuff doesn't matter, only memories.'

She nodded. ‘The first thing I thought of, seems a bit silly, but I feel like I'd want my hope candle.'

‘Hope candle?'

‘It sits beside my bed. Never seems to run out, it's like the never-ending candle. It was given to me after my accident to remind me to stay hopeful and strong, and always makes me feel better. Though if it was a fire that destroyed everything, I'd probably be too afraid to light it after that!'

The remaining two questions were answered without too much difficulty, and Zac leaned back against the couch.

‘Is that it, are we finished?' she asked.

He leaned forward, remembering something. ‘Oh, hang on. There's also an optional exercise.'

But did
he
want to do it?

April peered at the phone screen. ‘We have to stare into each other's eyes for four minutes?
Four
minutes?'

He noticed her jaw clench a little, and his own mirrored hers. Maybe they shouldn't do it, it would be weird. And dangerous. And …

‘Okay!' she said.

What?

‘They're just eyes. I'll use the time to plan my day tomorrow or something.' She shrugged.

She was clearly trying to make light of it, but her slightly stiff posture told him she would find it challenging, as would he. He'd barely looked anyone in the eye for longer than a brief moment in years. Let alone someone with beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes and long lashes that invited him to look closer. Four minutes, that was all. Four minutes would fly by, for sure.

He moved a little closer to her on the couch and set his phone timer. ‘You ready?'

‘Are you?'

No response.

‘Time starts … now.'

He pressed the start button then took a breath, as he looked up into April's eyes and she looked at his. After a few moments, her eyes diverted for a split second then returned to his gaze. Looking away after an appropriate time was an automatic response, and he had to force his eyes to stay put.

The candlelight gave a warm, shiny glow to her eyes. Though dark brown, tiny swirls of caramel spun within them. He hadn't noticed that before.

She giggled, and her hand covered her mouth, then she tried to resume her composure. Zac smiled a little, but kept his mouth tight. He tried to focus on every little detail to make use of the time. The way her eyelashes lightly kissed the top of her cheeks every time she blinked, and how they curled upwards, opening her eyes to the world. To him. She was wearing eye make-up, a faint glimmer of gold arched across her eyelids, accentuating her olive skin.

Despite looking directly at her eyes, his peripheral vision took in her chest rising and falling, and the curved shadows under her collarbones.

Was she examining every detail of him too? What did she notice?

She appeared to be trying extremely hard not to look away, and not to laugh. How strange it was to look so deeply into someone's eyes and not say anything. And as the seconds ticked by, it felt even stranger not to reach out and at least touch her hand, do something, anything, to detract from the intense vulnerability of the situation.

The air seemed to close in around them, concentrating itself in their personal space. He didn't know what the timer was up to, but perhaps they were halfway. Except something had shifted. She no longer appeared to be on the verge of laughter, and her eyes held a softer, more comfortable look about them. In contrast, he felt his gaze sharpening, intensifying, as though he was no longer simply looking into her eyes, but deeper. The gloss of her eyes increased, like a car windscreen after being wiped with a windscreen wiper. The rims of her eyes became a deeper pink. He could
see
her. Not just the outer her, but the inside. Something that he hadn't seen before … electrifying
and
terrifying. And, he was sure, she saw something new in him, sending a shot of adrenaline through his body.

Something about her drew him in, captivated him. His heart beat faster, his skin warmed, his breath quickened. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, trace around her eyes gently with his fingers. He clenched his hands tight. If that timer didn't go off soon …

Her face rose slightly as she gulped, and her breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell in time with his, like a piece of music about to reach a crescendo. The intensity in her presence was new to him. He didn't know exactly what it was. He was attracted to her, yes, but it was more … an inexplicable, raw, primal connection that simply existed. No reason, no purpose, it just was.

Heat warmed him from deep within. Oh God, he craved her. Right now, right here, he had to touch her. And if he did, an intense kiss would surely follow.

The timer buzzed.

April's gaze dropped, but he couldn't look away. He sucked in a breath, and as his hand reached out to her, some unseen force pulled it back. He stood, ran his hand over his head, and turned away. The bottle on the counter by the knife block caught his eye and instinctively he went to it. He picked up its smooth, curved body with ease. It fit in his hand like a key in a lock, a pillow in a pillowcase, comfortable like an old friend.

He opened the lid. The scent disoriented him for a moment, like he'd opened a bottle of memories and they'd escaped up and out in a rushed haze. He grabbed two glasses and filled the first one, was about to fill the other but his hands on the stem shook and the glass fell over and rolled. He caught it before it toppled off the counter.

‘Nice save,' said April.

He looked at the empty glass and couldn't even wait a second to fill it. He grabbed the full glass and brought it near his mouth, but as his tastebuds tingled with anticipation and his heart pounded, nausea rose in his gut.

He walked to the sink and tipped it down. Then he placed the lid on the bottle and shoved it towards her. ‘Please take it. Take it away.'

April took the bottle and stood. ‘Zac?'

He doubled over and leaned one hand on the bar stool next to her bag. He couldn't focus, catch his breath, his head spinning.

‘Are you okay?' Her hand touched his back and he straightened up.

He looked in her eyes once again and knew he couldn't keep this bottled up inside. He took a deep breath that would in no way prepare him for what was to follow. ‘My name is Zac Masterson, and I'm an alcoholic.'

April stepped back as though the truth had slapped her in the face.

‘I mean
recovering
alcoholic,' Zac said. ‘At AA they say alcoholic, but I think that reinforces the problem, so I prefer to say recovering. Not recovered, because then that would mean I could have the odd drink and be fine, but I can't, and I'm not. So I'm recovering, and always will be.' He leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms as he exhaled a long breath. His gaze dropped to the bottle in her hands and she thought for a moment he was going to grab it from her. She went to the door and placed it outside on the porch, then came back in.

She should have recognised the signs, but had been blinded by this man and his unconventional charm.