Escapism (The Escapism Series) (4 page)

  “Xenia, can you wait here for a moment?”

  “Was that a friend of yours?” I asked, dazed.

  “He is
not
,” he scowled. His expression softened. “Just enjoy yourself tonight. Your friends will be here with you shortly,” he whispered.

  When Calliope and Marla eventually found me, they tugged at my arms to join them in a dance. Nicholas, however, did not dance. He merely observed by the bar. I looked around and, in that instant, things reverted back. Nicholas’ eyes, smeared with gray and black, slowly returned to a distinct form. His flawless impenetrable demeanor returned as the fire in his eyes ceased to exist.

  My heart skipped a beat and lights flickered before my eyes. I dizzily watched the vines retract from the brick walls. The club no longer appeared as glamorous or as mystical. I felt somewhat leveled again, although unsure of what I had experienced.

  “You have control. Give it time,” Nicholas whispered as he passed by.

  I hadn’t the faintest idea as to what he was referring to besides being drunk and possibly having blacked out temporarily. For the remainder of the night, I opted for water after witnessing such strangeness. It was definitely an eerie night.

  Around two o’clock, I started to feel restless. Marla and Calliope had found themselves a pair of provocative dance partners and planned to stay a while longer—by no means was I going to pry them apart.

  “Do you need a ride home?” Nicholas asked.

  “Weren’t you drinking?”

  “Cranberry juice,” he held his glass to my face for inspection.

  I sniffed the nearly empty glass just to make sure. After all, he was a stranger.

  “You can never get enough of good old Vitamin C,” I said, teasingly.

  I looked over toward the girls, signaling good-bye. They awkwardly abandoned the guys, leaving them standing in disarray.

  “Call me once you guys get home,” I reminded.

  “Will do,” Calliope sung, smiling ear to ear. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winked, devilishly.

  “Pfft, what wouldn’t you do?” Marla squeaked, drunkenly.

  Calliope shot us a sideways glance, unimpressed.

  “Uh-oh,” Marla paused, covering her mouth. Calliope and I took a step back. She continued, “False alarm—I’m good.”

  “Keep an eye on this one,” I cautioned Calliope.  We laughed in unison before parting ways.

  I spotted Landon by Nicholas having shots with a swarm of girls and decided it would be rude of me to leave without saying good-bye.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I said, patting his arm.

  “I’m no longer a teenager! Let’s drink to that!” he shouted, handing Nicholas and I a shot of tequila.

  Nicholas smiled, raising his shot to the birthday boy, then to me. We toasted to Landon no longer being a teenager before leaving the venue.

Nicholas quickly handed his shot to a girl standing by Landon, explaining, “Designated driver.”

  The short girl gladly took the shot in his place, giddily smiling at Nicholas for having acknowledged her.

  Our walk to the parking lot was quite the trek; luckily it was a beautiful night, and the alcohol numbed my throbbing foot pain.

  He unlocked the car with his remote as we neared a red Porsche.

  “
Wow
. Nice wheels,” I said, impressed.

  “Thanks. Cars are a guilty pleasure of mine.”

  Nicholas opened the passenger door for me. He was gorgeous, witty, and chivalrous—jackpot! Aside from our initial strange conversation, I liked him, a lot.

  “Did you have a fun time tonight?” he asked.

  “It was an interesting night, to say the least. Did
you
have a good time?” I asked, noticing his change of mood after the tattooed man run-in.

  “Of course,” he whispered as the edge of his lip curved up into a half smile, the kind that made my insides twist in angst. “After all, I met you.”

  I smiled awkwardly; something about him was deceitfully blinding. His words and body language somehow lacked synchronicity.

   I intervened, cautiously asking, “Are you okay?”

  “That guy you were talking to,” he said, clearly bothered by my encounter with him. “Have you met him before?”

  “No, but it seemed like he knew me or recognized me,” I responded.

  “What did he say to you?” Nicholas asked. His face looked hard and pale in the light.

  “He asked if I knew where I was, but I think he might have knocked back a few too many,” I said, motioning with my hand. “Why do you ask?”

  “He looked like trouble,” he replied. “I’d stay away from him.”

  “How do you know him?” I asked.

  “I’ve heard of him, I don’t
know
him,” he said, quickly changing the topic. “I think it might rain.” His brow softened and his lips formed an imitation of a smile.

  “Well, aren’t we evasive?” I said. “Why won’t you tell me more about him?”

  “Xenia,” he said, unwilling to elaborate. Nicholas was withholding something from me.

  “Hmm. Rain, you say?” I played along. I looked through the darkness around us and watched the effervescent wind having its way with nature.

  The drive home was smooth at three in the morning. Nicholas drove slower than expected on the sparsely occupied highway, prolonging our time together.

  “So, what do you do?” I was anxious to learn more about him.

  “I’m currently at York U completing a masters in psych. I was at Ryerson for my undergrad. I’m a T.A for the meantime—it helps pay the bills.” He looked older than a freshman, but young enough to pass for a student. I guessed he was around twenty-four.

  “You’re nineteen, right?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes. I am of the legal age,” I teased.

  Nicholas laughed, but the sound of relief was evident in his tone. “I’m twenty-five,” he whispered, examining my reaction.

 
I was close.
“That’s a good age,” I responded. I liked older guys so that was a bonus. “Oh! You have to exit here at Rosewood Drive.  I just assumed you knew where to go, isn’t that funny?”

  “No problem.” He pulled into the far right lane with ease just in the nick of time. Had there been traffic, I’d have caused an accident.

  I caught myself staring at him more than a few times. Although he was focused on the road ahead, he grinned having taken notice.

  “You can make a right here and then it’s the next street after the stop sign,” I said.

  He pulled up in front of my house and parked in the driveway, leaving the keys in the ignition.

  “Thanks for driving me home, Nicholas.” I smiled, awkwardly fidgeting with the jammed seatbelt.

  “Anytime,” he whispered. “It does that sometime. Here. Let me.” He leaned in closer, undoing the stubborn buckle. “There you go.”

  During the whole five seconds whereby a mere inch of air separated us, I couldn’t breathe.  Ignited in an instant, my heart beat hurdled—what felt like—thirty notches over its usual sixty beats per minute.  It troubled me that a person could have such an effect on my body.

  “Thanks again.” I attempted to leave, but my legs had a mind of their own. “Stupid legs,” I mumbled quietly.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.  Goodnight,” I yelped, uneasily.

  “You are unlike anyone that I’ve ever met,” he said, faintly. “Can I see you again sometime?”

 
Anytime.

  “I’d like that,” I replied, aloof.

  His piercing gray eyes lit the dark interior of the car, and although I felt uneasy with Nicholas around me, I couldn’t refuse seeing him again. His presence was captivating, among other things.

  I reached for his phone in the cup holder and stored my Cyclopod contact for him. He smiled cordially.

  “Rest well, Xenia,” he whispered. He lingered for a moment before softly brushing the side of my face with his hand. He leveled me with his eyes again and gently kissed my cheek.

  “Bye,” I replied, carefully getting out of the car.
Tropical umbrella drink was going down.

  I could feel his gaze all the way to my door.

  Once inside, I locked the door behind me and swiftly made my way to my room. My mind was racing with thoughts—some of which were foreign to me. I pressed my eyelids together tightly and shook my head side to side. In my room, I quickly disrobed and showered.

  After a steaming hot shower, I slipped into a pair of sweats and a cotton T-shirt. I heard my phone beep; a text from Marla indicated that she and Calliope were home safely. I texted goodnight before I fell into a deep slumber, wet hair and all.

Xenia (Offline):

I was in what felt like a comfortable bed. My hands rested on top of the crisp sheets while moving along with the rhythm of my abdomen—up and down slowly as I inhaled and exhaled. My mind strained to move any part of my body. I stopped as the air filled with familiar perfume and the sound of humming that stimulated my senses, reminded me that I was not alone. The familiar sounds of metal against metal became easy to tune out—it was the unfamiliar sounds that instilled fear, unbearable at times. I screamed inside me until it was all that I heard.

Silk Scarf

The following morning, a strip of sunlight through the curtains warmed my neck, slowly trickling down and bringing awareness to the rest of my body. In its final attempt to pry me from sleep, the sun danced on my eyelids, creating a beautiful platform of black and orange spots until I opened my eyes and soaked in the bright daylight.

  I yawned and growled as I stretched my limbs toward the ceiling. My head throbbed profusely as I sat up, pushing the heavy layers of soft sheets and a comforter from over me. The room spun before me twice and I thanked God for my iron stomach. Had this been Calliope, my hardwood floors would have been desecrated.

  With a single tap, my finger print securely unlocked my phone. I reactivated my Cyclopod, which I had turned off before bed. I refused to leave it on overnight like the rest of my friends. When I slept, I didn’t appreciate being disturbed by late-night calls from Marla asking if pink is the new black or some random guy looking to hook up after regretfully having given my number to some loser in a club.

  I washed my face and brushed my teeth sluggishly. I was in dire need of some caffeine goodness. None of that decaf, non-fat latte shit—I liked my coffee regular with milk and on occasions like these, simply black.

  I quickly checked my messages and saw that I had a VT on Cyclopser, a video messenger service—the most convenient way to send personal messages while on the go. I clicked the image of Marla to retrieve the video text sent this morning.

Marla: “Hey, how are you? Last night was crazy fun!”

I responded back, intent on hearing Marla’s version of the party.

Xenia: “It was unreal, that’s for sure. Anything interesting happen after I left?”

Marla: “Nothing really. The music sucked after you and Mr. Sexy took off. The live entertainment called it quits.”

Xenia: “Hey, did you feel…
strange
at all, last night?”

Marla: “Well, I was a tad drunk. Define strange?”

Xenia: “Ha! My alcohol tolerance is pretty low after all. I seriously saw some questionable things last night. Anyhow, I’m going to hit up the kitchen. Do you want to meet for coffee before school?”

Marla: “Sure! I can meet you in an hour.”

Xenia: “See you then.”

Marla: “Later, Z.”

  I was proud of us for getting up early in preparation for our first day of university. I called Calliope in a final attempt to persuade her, but her voice mail answered instead. She was definitely sleeping in.

  My stomach grumbled loudly in anticipation of breakfast as I floated down the stairwell hopping from one step to the next in a good mood. This was actually a bad sign since the good mood could easily turn into a very bad mood if a guy was the source of my newfound contentment.

  By far, breakfast was my favorite meal of the day. Only inches away from the kitchen door, I heard the rattling of pots and pans and the smell of freshly brewed coffee—some of my most favorite sounds and scents around the house. However, the creakiness of the wooden stairs giving me away after staying out past curfew, I could have lived without.

  “Xenia, would you like some eggs?” My mother asked as soon as I pushed through the kitchen door. She stood by the stove in her apron, which partly shielded her designer business attire, with a pan in one hand and an egg in the other.

  “Morning, Ma. And yes, please.”

  “The usual?” she asked.

  My favorite was sunny side up.

  “You know how I like ‘em.” I cut a piece of bread and placed it in the toaster oven. The smell of eggs and bread made my mouth water.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower. Be back before you know it,” I said energetically, while I poured myself some coffee. I spilled just a little as I rushed to prepare for the day ahead.  I felt nervous and excited for my first day of university.

  Once in my room, I realized I’d left a load of clothes in the dryer. No time for folding now. Need to prepare for the day. Amongst the stationary rubble, I couldn’t find a working pen or pencil if my life depended on it. In frustration, I emptied the entire contents of my desk drawer on the floor and searched agitatedly. I gathered a few items and tossed the rest in the garbage bin—something I should have done during my summer break. After I got myself organized, I hopped in for a quick shower.

  Once I was soap-free and rejuvenated, I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a soft towel, smelling of a crisp summer breeze—just as the fabric softener promised.

  Half of my outfit from the night before hung from my hamper—I couldn’t help but smile. Nicholas was unlike anyone I had ever met. I just knew something good would come out of that night. I tucked the outfit fully into the hamper and unplugged my toothbrush from its charger. Back in my room, I put on a black bra and purple panties. I searched through my closet for an outfit, pulling out numerous jeans and tops, none of which enticed me. A pair of new dark skinny jeans and a plain white T-shirt would suffice as a college look; something that said
I’m a college student
,
but not necessarily a freshman
. I was sure my lack of direction around campus would be a definite giveaway, all the more reason for a cool outfit, but not too cool. Indecisively, I left the clothing monstrosity on my bed and brushed my teeth instead. I took a final look in the mirror before I went downstairs to eat. I took my favorite tube of peach lip-gloss with me for later. As I made my way down the stairs, I ran my fingers through my tangled, wet hair a few times, giving it a tussle.