April's Glow (19 page)

She'd thought there'd be tears, but they'd come and gone as she'd written it. Re-reading it was easier, and solidified the resolve within her to finally move on from her history with Kyle and turn the page to a new chapter.

She folded the letter and slid it into the envelope that she'd addressed to his parents' house. She'd post it tomorrow, and didn't mind one way or the other if she got a reply in some shape or form, she only needed to say the words and be done with it.

It was over.

Kyle was her past, and her future lay open and ready for her to grasp and embrace, wherever it may lead.

She slipped her arms into her light cotton cardigan, pushing up the three-quarter sleeves to below her elbows, picked up her phone and keys, and stepped outside. The night was cool but comfortable, a slight warmth teasing and tempting her as the breeze tickled her skin. Spring would be here soon. So would Zac's twelve-month mark. Over the past few months they'd become closer, but more like good friends, and she was happy with that. She could handle that. In fact, she wasn't sure she even felt the same level of attraction as before. Maybe it had only been temporary lust. Either way, things were good. And safe. Because she knew he would not risk his recovery by trying to become more than friends before his anniversary. Even his poems had slowed down, and the ones he did share on the blog were more about his own journey than the elusive next-door neighbour. After September first, however, that was something she had tried her hardest not to think about.
Wait till the time comes,
Zoe had advised.

But tonight: cupcakes.

‘What will you do when the book is finished and you are no longer entitled to free food rewards?' Zac asked as soon as he opened the door to her arrival.

‘Um,' she said, ‘bribe you?'

He smiled and welcomed her inside.

‘Oh yum.' She eyed the cupcakes on the table. ‘I could get used to this.'

‘If you eat more than one you have to help me clean up,' he said.

‘Fair enough.' She sat and Zac placed a cupcake on a small plate for her. ‘Do you need a fork?'

‘Huh?' She glanced at him. ‘Oh, a fork. No, cupcakes need to be eaten with the hands, they taste better that way.' She smiled.

Zac grinned. ‘What did you think I said?'

‘Huh? Nothing. Fork. I don't need one. All good. Let's eat.' She picked up the cupcake and took a bite. ‘Mmm, very good,' she mumbled.

‘Weren't you taught not to talk with your mouth full?' Zac spoke, as he munched on his cupcake.

‘Weren't you?'

‘Yes, but do I follow the rules?' he replied.

‘That was going to be my answer. Answer thief.'

‘You started it.'

‘How?'

‘By talking with your mouth full.'

She tore off a small fragment of her cupcake and tossed it at him. He picked it up from near his plate where it landed and tossed it back at her. She returned the favour; this time, it landed on the floor beside him.

‘You mess, you clean,' he said.

She stood, a smug smile on her face, and walked to his side of the table. Kneeling had once been extremely difficult, but she was used to it now, having to bend down to deal with Romeo. She stood right beside Zac, eyeing him off, then slowly bent to the floor and picked up the crumb near his foot. On the way up, her gaze traced the length of his legs, his waist, his torso, and then met his face. ‘Five second rule?' she asked, holding the crumb near his mouth.

He took her hand. ‘If that's the case, you eat it.'

Maintaining her eye contact with him, she opened her mouth slowly, held the crumb close to her lips.

‘You like tasking risks?' he asked.

‘Maybe,' she put the crumb down on the edge of his plate and went back to her chair.

Maybe she did.

* * *

This was getting dangerous. She was clearly flirting. He could barely keep his eyes off her plump lips when she'd eaten her cupcakes. Two and a half cupcakes, because they'd shared the third one. He had to keep his cool though. Still two weeks until September. And even so, who knew what she'd be like then. She'd made it clear she thought getting involved with a recovering alcoholic would be trouble. She was probably flirting now, testing the waters, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't give in, his stubbornness and determination standing strong to make the twelve-month mark without any disruptions.

Housework.

That might help.

‘Time to clean up,' he said, standing abruptly. He went into the kitchen and filled the sink with soapy water.

‘You already licked the bowl?' she asked, sidling up next to him.

‘Yep. Sorry.' He shrugged, then picked up the bowl he'd made the frosting in. ‘Wash or dry?' he asked.

‘I'll wash. You dry.' She grabbed a tea towel and flicked it at him. He grabbed it off her and flung it over his shoulder.

She giggled, then washed the bowl and handed it to him.

‘You missed a bit.' He pointed to a microscopic piece of frosting.

She peered closely. ‘So I did.' She wiped it off. ‘Well, it
is
challenging to concentrate with you looking all masculine and sexy with that tea towel slung over your shoulder.'

He laughed. So much for housework dampening the flirty atmosphere. ‘In that case, I'd better take it off.' He caught her gaze then grasped the end of the tea towel and slowly slid it off his shoulder, then flung it around in circles above his head.

‘Ha-ha! Are you trying to be a stripper or a cowboy?'

‘What do you want me to be?'

‘A stripping cowboy?' She eyed him with raised eyebrows then burst out laughing. The sweetest sound filled the room.

He stepped away from the sink and put even more momentum into his tea towel flinging, then attempted to lasso her. The tea towel landed around her neck, and he grabbed both ends, pulling her closer. ‘Gotcha,' he whispered.

Her laughter stopped, and she looked into his eyes. Then she gave him a brief, quick, courteous kiss on the cheek.

‘What was that for?' he asked.

‘To say thanks. For encouraging me to write that letter to Kyle. I did it. Today.'

He released her from the tea towel and she turned to the sink, picking up the cupcake baking tray to wash. ‘It helped. Like, really helped. So thanks.' Her body faced the sink but she turned her head to look at him again.

‘My pleasure,' he replied. ‘That was unexpected. And … nice,' he said, touching his face where her lips had been. ‘I'll never wash my cheek again!'

April pointed the dishwashing brush at him, water dripping to the floor. ‘You'd better, or I'm not kissing it again!'

He leaned in closer. ‘That's okay, I can kiss yours instead.' He pecked her cheek, warm and soft from laughter.

‘But what if I never wash
mine
again?' she asked.

He furrowed his brow and stroked his chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Then I'll just have to kiss you somewhere else next time.'

* * *

She had no idea how to respond to that. Her heart wanted him to kiss her somewhere else, her body wanted it, but her head said ‘are you crazy?' So she scrubbed the cupcake tray like mad. ‘These things are hard to clean,' she said.

‘Here.' He handed her a different brush with steel wool attached.

‘Thanks.'

They washed everything and dried everything and exchanged only necessary information until everything was put away and the kitchen sink and counter cleared.

April's phone beeped with a text from her mum:
How are things? Long time no speak. Call me for a chat when you can.

She replied:
All good, busy atm, call tomorrow.

‘Have you listened to any more music, April? Since the last time?'

She turned to face him. ‘Music? Why do you ask?'

He shrugged. ‘Popped into my head when I saw your phone.'

She leaned her hand against the counter. ‘Just the one song,' she said.

‘So nothing since?'

‘No, I mean, the same song. Over and over.' She brushed her hair behind her shoulder. ‘I'm weird.'

‘
All of me
?'

‘You remember?'

He nodded. ‘I've been listening to that one too.'

‘It … I …'
It reminds me of you.
‘I just like it.'

‘Good,' he said. Then a hint of a smile softened his face and he asked, ‘When was the last time you danced, Miss April Vedora?'

‘Danced?' she asked. ‘Why do you want to know that?'

‘I'm curious. I like discovering random facts about people. I like asking weird questions. You know me.'

I know you.

Yes, she did. At what point did he cease to be just her neighbour? She didn't know what they actually were … friends, she guessed, but even that didn't seem to be an appropriate label for their bizarre relationship.

‘And I'm guessing if you haven't listened to much music then you haven't danced for a while.'

She glanced down at her leg. ‘Not to mention the fact that I probably wouldn't be the most coordinated dancer anymore.'

‘That's no excuse.' He folded the tea towel and hung it from the hook on the cupboard door.

She widened her eyes at him. ‘Oh is that right? I'd like to see you try, with this piece of metal.'

‘Dancing is done from the heart, not the feet,' he said, patting his chest with his palm.

She crossed her arms. ‘I think a lot of professional dancers would disagree.'

He crossed his arms too. ‘Oh, I think they
would
agree, that even if someone has expert technical skill, if there's no heart and soul in it, it would miss that something special.'

April uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. ‘My wedding day.'

He raised his eyebrows.

‘I would have danced at my wedding day. So my last time was at our rehearsal for the dance we were going to do.'

He gave a slow, understanding nod. Then, he moved in front of her, up close, and gently lifted her hand. ‘We're going to dance,' he whispered. Before she could spurt forth an objection from her mouth, he pressed his finger to her lips.

You know me too.

Silently, he led her to the centre of the living room, switching off the kitchen light on the way, so that only the light from the cinnamon candle illuminated the room with its warm, orangey glow.

Juliet lay curled up on the couch, but lifted her head sleepily as Zac took his phone from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table.

When the familiar music filled the silence, April's heart beat faster.

No, no. I can't do this.

Not this song. My song.
Our
song.

‘Just one dance,' Zac whispered, taking her hand again and holding it up to the side, putting his other hand on her waist. Heat from his skin spread along her arm and up into her body, as the music spread into her awareness, swirling and teasing like a breeze, lifting up stored emotions and flapping them around like leaves on a tree.

Like in a trance, she lifted her other arm up and placed it on his shoulder, her hand barely big enough to fully grasp the roundness of the muscle.

The lyrics began, and it was as though they'd been written for each other. Their connection, her attraction to him, it hadn't dampened through familiarity and comfortable friendship as she'd thought. It was here, in full force. Calling to her.

Whatever this was, it defied logic and reason. It just was. It sent her crazy and completely sane at the same time. It made her light-headed yet grounded all at once.

April moved with Zac as he swayed slowly to one side, then the other side, and back again. Swaying, dancing, though her feet were still. It had been so long, but the emotional rhythm of the music and the heat emanating from his body melted her into submission; a sweet, slow surrender.

When the chorus came she looked up, and his eyes watched hers, as though the words were being spoken without sound.

Something shifted inside, like she'd trodden on a sandy hill and it had crumpled beneath her foot. There was no stability here, in this moment. Each beat of the song, each sway of her body, led her further and further into unknown territory.

Zac's hand moved from her waist, up, up, until it reached her face. She could feel the tingling warmth before he'd even touched her cheek. And then it was there. The backs of his fingers, trailing gently down her cheek.

And his eyes. On her eyes. Like before when they'd done the experiment, only stronger.

His breath was close, too close. Like he was breathing into her, and she needed it. His oxygen, his power. Him.

His lips were almost on hers. Like his hand, she could feel them without touching them; hot, hungry … heaven.

A small sigh escaped from within her as her lips lightly brushed against his. Not a kiss, but a touch, a hint of things to come.

The song was about love, but this couldn't be love. This wasn't what love had felt like with Kyle. This was different, this was …

A deep, sharp breath entered her lungs.

This was
stronger.

And it was that realisation that made her move her face away from his, break free of his hold and dash out the door. It wasn't only about the alcoholism now. If she were to have this and then lose it, for some unexpected reason, it would hurt more than anything else she had experienced. She couldn't deal with that. She couldn't risk it. She had to get out now before it had a chance to take hold of her completely.

It was probably for the best that April had given Zac the silent treatment over the past two weeks. Not that she had completely ignored him, she'd sent a message saying she needed some space. She'd even finished reading the book and left it on his doorstep, this time without a poem, just a note saying it had really helped. Zac had just had to live out each day, counting them, waiting for D-day. And now it was here.