Repeating History (History #1) (8 page)

“She’s pretty,” Jacob says. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What idea?” I ask without taking my eyes off Clara.

“Before you try talking to her,” he’s saying, “I could apologise to her... it’s kind of my fault you teased her.”

“I don’t know if that would help.” I’m pretty sure it won’t.

“Or we could have a conversation about it and she can overhear us,” he tries.

“Or I could just be a grown up and accept responsibility for my actions.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Spoken like a true lawyer. Besides I think Maya may have already told her about you teasing me.”

“Shame. It sounded like a fine plan to me,” he smirks, “I could chat up one of her friends if that helps?”

I laugh at that one, “going to pimp yourself out for the cause?”

“If I need to,” he’s laughing too now.

“Perhaps we should just get a drink.”

“I like how your mind works little brother... the bar is right next to your little ray of sunshine after all.”

“Can’t you take anything seriously?” I shake my head.

“Little brother the only things I take seriously are sex, the law and Christmas.”

His words almost make me laugh, except I know it’s the complete and utter truth.

I do my best to keep my distance until I get the signal from Aurora and even then I go to walk passed them but Aurora calls me over just like we’d planned earlier in Aurora and Landon’s apartment. “Andrew!” Aurora is smiling at me, “you need to hear Clara’s story... it is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Clara is blushing now, “there’s no point. Andrew already knows the story.”

“I do?” Oh shit. She’s probably been telling her about how I used to bully her. She really isn’t going to forgive me. I should probably just give up.

“He does?” Aurora’s frowning now.

“It was about him,” Clara is so quiet I’m not sure I heard her correctly over the sound of the music.

“Now I definitely need to hear this story,” I say with a smirk, pretending to be unaffected.

“I was telling Aurora about your penchant for apples.”

I laugh, “It’s true I really do like apples.” And apple pie...

Aurora smiles, “Clara was telling me about a time when you threw an apple at her accidentally. Apparently you were aiming for the bin.”

I can remember that day. We’d just gotten back from Christmas break and my mother had just tried to kill herself. I’d been lashing out at everyone; Clara especially. “She threw it back at me,” I tell Aurora without looking at her. My eyes are completely focused on Clara, “it hit me square on the nose.”

Aurora must catch the sad look on my face or something because she quickly asks why I did it. Clara answers before I can, “he did it because he loved to ridicule me. It was a game.”

I close my eyes, “that’s not true. I threw that apple at you because I wanted your attention.”

She shakes her head. She doesn’t believe me. “We’d just got back from Christmas break and my mother had just tried to kill herself with her razor blade. I needed you to notice me. I needed you to see me. Just you. Not anyone else.”

I step back. I’ve said too much. I’ve said more than I’d planned. “I’m heading home, Aurora.” I sigh, “I just wanted to say congratulations again.” I pull her into a hug and whisper my thanks. I really am grateful for her effort, even if it is wasted. There is no world in which Clara Delos is ever going to forgive me for once being a child.

I quickly say my goodbyes to Landon. He gives me an almost pitying look. When I find Jacob, he’s in a mouth lock with one of Aurora’s friends, I think her name is Grace, so I just leave him to it.

I’m out on the street when a small hand pulls my arm back, “Andrew.” I’d recognise that voice anywhere. I turn on the spot to see Clara Delos looking anxiously up at me. I wait for her to speak. I’ve made myself vulnerable enough for one night. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Clara that’s not the sort of thing I joke about,” the words come out harsher than I intend.

“Sorry... I didn’t know,” her eyes are soft and kind; compassionate.

“No one at school did,” I tell her, “except James.”

She’s nodding, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your problem...” I don’t understand why I sound so cold all of a sudden. Is it because I’ve let her see a part of me that I normally keep hidden; buried?

“I know but... can we go somewhere? Can we talk?”

“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”

“Not about your mother,” she says quietly, “not unless you want to. I want to talk about us.”

“Clara, you’ve made it clear there is no us,” I don’t know why I’m trying to push her away when she’s everything I want.

“Sometimes I’m wrong,” she all but whispers.

I sigh, considering my options, but as much as I might want to right now, I know I can’t walk away from her. Not now. Not ever. “You can come to my place if you want.”

My words hang in the air between us and she seems to take an age to respond, “okay.” I’m relieved when she finally answers me. I’m feeling more exposed right now than I’ve ever felt before.

“I was going to walk,” I tell her, “I don’t live too far away.”

“Alright, we can walk,” she takes my hand in hers much to my surprise and falls into step beside me. She’s quiet. She doesn’t speak and I don’t either. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’m scared that I’ll say the wrong thing and lose whatever advantage I’ve gained. My skin tingles under her touch. I squeeze her fingers gently in my own, “you’re cold.”

“It’s January,” she says simply.

“You should have gloves on,” I tell her as I pull her hand into the pocket of my coat, still holding it in my own.

“I left them in the bar,” she tells me. “I sort of just ran out after you.”

“At least you grabbed your coat,” I grin at her.

There’s an awkward tension when I let her into my apartment. I lead her down the corridor and into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?” I try to break into the strange atmosphere between us.

“A glass of water would be great,” she’s looking around, probably acknowledging the bareness of the walls. I don’t put photos on the walls. In fact, I don’t think I have a single family photograph in my entire apartment. My mother has more than I can count on the walls of her house. She has always documented our family’s happiest moments with her camera. To look at her walls, you’d think we were the happiest family alive, but that just isn’t true. In reality, those happy moments were few and far between. That’s why I don’t put photographs on my walls. I don’t want them to be a lie. If I ever put photos on my wall, they’ll tell the truth.

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable,” I tell her.

I wander over to the kitchen area, secretly disappointed to have to turn my back on Clara. I pull a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I fill the glass with ice and water from the fridge before turning back towards Clara. She’s sat on the corner sofa. She’s taken her shoes off and pulled her feet up on the chair next to her. It’s a shame. She looked bloody sexy in those black six inch heels, but then again the sight of her in my apartment is enough to make me hard. I’m perhaps the closest I’ve ever been to getting what I want; Clara Delos. I pass her the glass and watch as she takes a sip. I take a seat on the coach next to her. I need to speak but I’m not sure what to say.

“Thank you,” she smiles at me, “it’s nice here; very grey.”

“I like it,” I tell her with a smirk.

“It’s a bit clinical...”

“Let me guess, your place has photos of you and your family everywhere, lots of colour on the walls...”

“Maybe,” she’s smiling at me, not really answering my question.

I know we should be talking. She wants to talk about us but I haven’t got a clue how to get that conversation started. It turns out that I don’t have to, “do you really like me?” she asks me, looking more vulnerable and unsure than I’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” I consider saying more to try and convince her but I don’t think it will help.

“Okay,” she nods her head gently and an auburn lock of hair falls into her face. I lean forward and place it behind her ear before running my finger down her neck. She shivers at my touch, leaning into it gently before pulling away and standing up. She walks away from me, “we need to talk.”

She takes a seat at my dining table. She’s still close. Close enough that we can still talk quietly, almost intimately, but far enough away that I can’t touch her. She’s too far away. I follow her to the table and sit opposite her, directly across from her at the round table. I lean forward and take her hand in mine, “let’s talk.”

“Okay,” she seems unsure again. I don’t think I’m the only person who doesn’t know what to say.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask her.

“Why did you tease me when we were kids?” I’ve answered this question already and the idea of answering it again irritates me.

I consider my answer, “I liked you Clara.” The look on her face tells me she needs more.

CHAPTER seven: Clara

“I liked you Clara,” his words resonate in my ears. I know that he expects me to reply. He wants a response but I have no idea what to say to him. “We were children and I liked you.”

I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t keep me waiting, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I told my brother about you but he just started teasing me... he wasn’t really very helpful.”

“Maya said that Jacob used to tease you about me,” I acknowledge.

He smirks at me, “he wasn’t quite as much of an arse as I was to you.”

“That’s a relief,” I laugh gently, almost flirtatiously.

“But the more he teased me the more I teased you,” he says, “truth is I didn’t know the first thing about how to tell you I liked you and then we got into a routine. I teased you, you gave me attention... I couldn’t give that up, even once I was old enough to work out how to talk to you.”

“Couldn’t give it up?” I question him.

“The rush... it was heady,” he squeezes my fingers, “it’s not dissimilar to the way I feel when I touch you now.”

“And do you feel, Andrew?” I ask even though I’m scared of his answer.

“Just the touch of your hand makes my whole body burn,” his words are confident and I can’t help but trust them. I tilt my chin as I try to read the look on his face. His eyes look sincere and for once he isn’t smirking. “Truth is Clara; I liked you more than apples, more than my mother’s apple pie. I liked you a heck of a lot and I still do. I always have.”

“But you haven’t seen me in years,” he has my heart racing and my skin is prickling with the electricity that is always between us. I pull my hand away. I need distance so that I can focus.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of you,” he looks almost embarrassed. “We have a lot of mutual friends and I could never forget you, Clara Delos. Not for one second.”

He probably expects me to say something but truth is I’d been delighted when I finished secondary school to finally be able to get away from him. “My dad died fourteen years ago,” he tells me.

“I know,” I frown.

He gets to his feet so that he can plonk himself back down but this time in the seat next to mine. His hand twitches as if he’s almost restraining himself from taking my hand in his again. “I was twelve and it felt like everything was just awful. The only thing that got me through that Christmas was the idea of seeing you again when school started back.”

“Why?” I can’t help but ask.

“Because Clara even in the darkest moments of my life you lit the whole thing alight. You rescued me. Your smile. Your laughter. Your eyes. You were like fireworks or something. You were always so happy and real and... I wasn’t like that. I was a broken, I guess. Everything was dark. Dad was dead and everyone else was crying all the time but I could always count on you to make me smile.”

“You didn’t smile at me,” I tell him, “you smirked.”

“Same difference; you made me feel something. You made me feel alive when everything inside me said I was dead.”

I nod my head because I really am at a loss for words. “Then when my mum tried to kill herself and my world fell apart again, I needed to feel alive again so I threw a bloody apple core at you.”

“And I threw it back,” I whisper without a trace of annoyance.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “and having you look at me just for that one moment was all I needed and then my whole universe re-centered again and you were right where you belonged. You’re the centre of my universe Clara. You’re like the sun in my solar system.”

“I think you’re making me sound more important than I am.”

“Nope. I mean every word.”

I stand up and begin pacing, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But what do you want?” I ask.

“You,” a one word answer was not what I had been aiming for.

“I don’t think you can.”

“Why? Clara, give me one good reason. Just one.”

“We have all this history between us,” I tell him, “we can’t just erase it and pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s always going to be there; it’s always going to be between us.”

“Clara, it just means we have a story.”

“A story to tell the grandkids?” I ask sarcastically.

“Maybe.”

I shake my head, “It’s not just a story though. It’s painful and...”

“What I did was wrong,” he’s stood in front of me now and he’s taken both my hands in his. “I was a bastard to you but I was a child and unfortunately children tend to behave like children.” I open my mouth to speak but he shakes his head, silently asking me to wait, “but I’m not a child any more. The history between us can either be the thing that keeps us apart or you could let it be the thing that brings us together. Clara, I really like you and I know that if I let you walk away from me, I’m going to regret it.”

I’m crying now because I’m scared he might be right and I don’t want to let him in. I don’t want to risk him hurting me again. I spent my childhood being hurt by the man in front of me. “The thing is Clara, the second you walk out that door, I’ll regret that you are gone. The second you leave... you might not regret it. You might be able to walk away and not regret it immediately. Heck you may not even regret it tomorrow or in a month from now but I think you will one day... and I think we owe it to ourselves to try.”

“Why?” I ask hoarsely.

“Because I think you liked me too once upon a time.”

“I didn’t,” I deny and I wish I could say I sound convincing.

“Sure Delos,” he’s smirking slightly and it’s irritating. I want to slap the look off his face, “if you say so.”

“What do you actually want from me?” I ask him again.

“I want you; however you come,” he says gently and I’m caught so off guard that I’m speechless.

The silence stretches and I know that at some point I’m going to have to respond. I take a breath and count to five, “however I come?”

“I need you in my life. In whatever context you want, but I need you in my life.”

“I’m in your life,” I tell him honestly, “I can’t get out of your life.” It sounds almost like a joke but I’m fully sincere, “trust me; I’ve tried.”

“I don’t want to just be your colleague though.”

“Then what do you want”

“I want to kiss you.” He’s as close to me as he can get without our bodies pressing together and he wouldn’t even need to take a step towards me. If I just tilted my head up slightly, his lips would be right there. I want it too. Not that I could ever tell him that; his ego is already far too inflated. I fight the urge to tilt my chin but everything inside me is calling out to him, craving him. He has my hands entrapped in his own. His thumb is stroking the back of my hand and it sends fire running through my veins, up my arms and through my entire body to my sex. I want him. I don’t want to but he’s all I can see. He’s all I can feel. The soft touch of the carpet beneath my feet is lost next to the touch of his skin against mine. I breathe in the smell of him; I want this. “Will you let me?”

I must look like an animal caught in a trap because he releases my hands, giving me the option of escape but it’s not what I want. I don’t want to leave. I’m scared where this will take us. I can’t have a repeat of Liverpool. My father had been quite angry; it didn’t look good. He might be a retired politician but he has high hopes for my brother Gabriel and scandal is not allowed. “We work together; it would be unprofessional.”

“We could make it work.”

“How?” I ask him because I’m convinced he’s wrong.

“Plenty of people date the people they work with.”

“How Andrew? Answer the question.”

“We’ll just behave. We’ll be adults about it. I won’t kiss you at the office.”

“Yeah right,” I laugh, “we’re not even together and you’ve done that twice already.”

“Delos! Why do you have to make it so bloody difficult.”

“This is the other thing,” I tell him, “we argue like cat and dog.”

“Clara, why does it matter? Why can’t you just give it a go? I don’t have all the answers. Chances are I’ll fuck up plenty but that’s how relationships work.”

“What happens at work when we break up?”

“Who says we’re going to break up?”

“There are company policies about this sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “I’ve already spoken to Landon; he knows I’m invested in this. Stop trying to find an excuse to say no.”

“I’m not...”

He cuts across me, “yes. You are. If you don’t want to try then just say.” He sounds annoyed, “there are thousands of what ifs in this world... don’t let them stop you living Clara.” I don’t know what to say. I’m scared. This is Andrew Contius for fucks sake. No matter how much Stephen or any of my ex’s might have hurt me, they had nothing on Andrew. He’d made me cry more tears than I’d cried when I found Stephen in bed with my boss. Stephen had broken my heart for sure; problem is I don’t think Andrew would break it. If it all fell apart with Andrew; he’d completely pulverise my heart.

“I can’t.” I’m disappointed in myself as soon as I say the words. I can’t even look at him. My eyes are focused on the floor.

His response is resigned, “okay.”

“Okay?” I look up then and notice the distraught look in his eyes.

“Okay,” his voice is gentle, almost unaffected, “I can’t force you, Clara.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll stay the night,” he says firmly, “I can’t drive you home. I’ve been drinking.”

“I can get a taxi,” I tell him.

“No. You’ll stay here. I meant what I said. I want you in my life any way I can; whatever capacity you can give.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurt out.

“Yeah,” his eyes are void of feeling, “you’ve made that clear. I have a spare bedroom. Let me show you.” He kneels down, picking up my shoes off the floor where I’d left them before getting back up and leading me out the door. He takes me down the corridor. At the end there are three doors; one to the left, another straight ahead and another to the right. “The bathroom is straight ahead,” he tells me, before pulling the door to the left open, “you’ll sleep here.” He puts my shoes down on the floor and turns back towards the door. His face has lost it’s usually smirk, “I’m straight across the hall, if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I want him to say more but he doesn’t. His hand is on the door and he’s about to leave, “Andrew?”

“Yes Clara?” his head is turned towards me but his eyes are looking beyond me. He can’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.

“I know. It’s okay. Just get a good night’s sleep.”

I nod my head but he’s already gone.

Sunlight is streaming into the room when I wake up. The bed I’m in, might be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. Not that I’ve done much sleeping. I’ve mostly been thinking and regretting my decision. I can’t hear any movement so I think it’s safe to say he’s still asleep. It’s almost ten and I need to talk to someone. I call my brother. I could talk to one of my friends and they’d give me some amazing advice no doubt, but that’s not what I need right now. “Gabriel Delos,” my big brother answers briskly.

“Hey Gab.”

“Clara?” he’s surprised to hear me. We don’t tend to call regularly. As much as we love each other, our family aren’t really the communicative sorts. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“Shit; you aren’t in jail again, are you?” Gabriel sounds terse, “this isn’t you calling me from the police station?”

“No! Of course not. That happened one time.”

“One time too many,” my brother mutters more to himself than me.

“I’m talking about a boy.”

“Really, Clara? You called me about a boy?” he sighs. He’s not interested.

“I need your advice.”

“Advice about relationships? I’m really not your man... try Luca.”

“No. I want to talk to you about it.”

“Fine... hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”

“Do you remember when I was a kid, there was always a boy that was teasing me?”

“Yeah; the Contius kid?”

“Yeah him...”

“What about him?”

“He works with me now.”

“Unlucky.”

He’s so unhelpful sometimes, “it’s not that bad... any way... point is...”

“Get to it, Clara... in fact, let me guess. I imagine he has told you the reason he was a mean arse is because he liked you and now you’re all upset and unsure because you liked him too, not that you’d ever say it because you’ve got that bloody pride of yours.”

“I’m not proud.”

“Are too; you won’t even give your own mother the time of day, what chance did this poor boy have.”

“Like you spend time with her!”

“We’ve had lunch.”

“As if!” I’m flabbergasted.