Repeating History (History #1) (9 page)

“You forget Clara,” Gab sighs, “I remember her pretty clearly. She left when I was eight; she isn’t just a nameless, faceless woman for me. She was my mum.”

I want to ask him about it. I want to know what she’s like. If she’s pretty and elegant like I had always imagined. All the questions I’ve had my whole life are on the tip of my tongue but I’m too scared to hear the answers; too scared of disappointment. “Clara, do you know what your biggest problem is?”

“No.” I don’t want him to tell me either.

“You’re scared,” he tells me bluntly, “you aren’t willing to take risks and life just consists of risks. If you don’t take them, you’re not really living... do you like him?”

“That’s not really the point...”

“Answer the bloody question Clarisse.” The use of my birth name surprises me. No one ever calls me that. It was shortened as a child because neither one of my brothers could say it and Clara had just sort of stuck.

“Yes, I like him.”

“Then take a fucking risk,” Gab tells me impatiently, “give the poor boy a chance. Now I really do need to go, Clara. I’ll see you in a few weeks at dads... I know you probably don’t want to hear this but you should give mum a chance too. She’s really not that bad.”

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, “I love you Gabriel.”

“I love you too,” Gabriel replies, “speak to you soon and don’t get into any trouble.”

“One time. One time!”

“One time too many,” Gabriel tells me again, “I hate it when you make me worry.”

“Speak to you later,” I hang up.

I sneak out of my room, hoping that Andrew is still asleep. I need a plan and so I need space to come up with one. I can’t do that in his apartment. It’s only when I’m in the hall that I hear his voice and a gentle tapping sound. I quickly realise it is the sound of typing. “Yeah Landon,” he’s saying, “it could have gone better.”

He’s momentarily quiet as he listens to Landon’s reply. “She’s not interested; it was worth a go though. Say thanks to Aurora.”

I walk into the living room and find him sat on the sofa, his laptop on his lap. His phone held in the crook of his shoulder. He’s wearing a pair of comfy pants and a grey t-shirt. It’s tight against his biceps and I catch my breath at the sight of him. His hair looks damp; as if he’s just gotten out of the shower. He’s sat in the corner of his L shape sofa with his legs up in front of him. He’s no longer paying attention to Landon. His eyes are on me and the look he’s giving me is enough to make me blush. “Got to go, Landon. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

He puts down the phone but doesn’t say anything to me. I’m stood in the doorway of his living room and we’re both just staring at each other. I should tell him I’m leaving. But I can’t. He’s right. I’ll regret it. Gabriel’s right. I’m scared. I take a step towards him before hesitating again, “you really meant what you said last night?”

“You know I did Clara.” He doesn’t move.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he frowns, unsure what to make of everything. I can see the question in his eyes; what does that mean? I walk across the room, push his laptop closed and take it off his lap. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. I take my time, placing the laptop on the coffee table before turning back towards him. I take a seat on the edge of the sofa next to his legs. His hand is resting on his abdomen and I see it twitch. He wants to reach for me but he doesn’t.

“Andrew, there are rules if you are in my life. You might not like it.”

“Tell me,” he sighs and I’m not sure if he thinks I’m looking for more excuses.

“My family have a very public image. I can’t let my private life embarrass them. It has before.”

“Liverpool?” he asks, “I’m not going to hurt you, Clara.”

“You don’t know that,” I tell him, “you probably will and I’ll probably hurt you too and that’s okay. It just can’t be public.”

“What our relationship?” he asks; his back straightening.

“No; our issues...”

“Clara,” Andrew frowns at me, “it’s no one else’s business. If I have a problem with our relationship; you’re the only person I’ll want to talk to. Just you. But you have to trust me. You have to give me a chance.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So... can I kiss you now?” his smirk is back.

“No.”

“No?” he’s pouting and I think I like it. I bite my lip before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips. His hand moves to my hair and he pulls me closer until I’m lying on top of him on the sofa. What started off as a gentle peck, quickly escalates into something more when he takes control; his tongue licking at my lips demanding entrance. I sigh, giving in and opening up to him. The kiss intensifies, lips melded together and our tongues fighting for dominance. I pull away to breathe and pull his t-shirt off revealing the perfect abs that I’d always believed were there. His pants are hanging low on his hips and the sight of him is almost too much. “Like what you see, do you Delos?” he’s smirking teasingly at me. Some things don’t change.

“Shut up, Contius.” I reply before covering his lips with my own once more.

He’s still smirking. I can feel it against my lips. His hands are on my arse. He slaps it gently, “I always liked this arse.”

“I told you to shut up,” I sound breathless like I’ve run a marathon. He flips me over so that he’s hovering above me on the couch. My hand is against his hard chest and I can feel his heart beat. He’s looking down at me with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before. I run my other hand through his damp hair and pull him even closer. He smells clean; like soap and shampoo and I’m pretty sure he’s had an apple for breakfast. The thought makes me giggle. His eyebrow rises questioningly but I just shake my head, “kiss me,” I whisper in his ear.

“Whatever you say Miss Delos,” he’s smirking again. This kiss is no less passionate than the last. His body is against mine. His hand is on my neck, tickling my skin. I want more but I don’t want to rush it. He pulls away leaving me wanting and if the sight of the tent in his trousers is anything to go by he’s suffering too. “Spend the day with me, Clara.”

I’m not sure it’s an invitation. It has the ring of a demand. “Okay.”

He’s surprised by the lack of argument but I think he’s pleased. “If I’d realised you would agree that easily I’d have asked for the whole weekend.”

I laugh, “I’d probably have given it to you.” He’s really smiling now.             

“First, we can’t have you wearing the same outfit you wore last night.”

“I can go home and change,” I say looking down at my dress.

“No,” his answer is quick. He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room and down the corridor and into his bedroom, “I don’t plan to go out today; you can wear my clothes.”

“Okay.” He’s rummaging in his wardrobe looking for something for me to wear. I take the opportunity to look around his bedroom. Just like in his living room there are no photographs on the walls. In fact the only thing you could describe as personal in the whole room is the small pile of books on his bedside table. I glance at the titles; A tale of two cities and War and Peace are amongst the titles. “You like to read?” I ask.

He looks over at me, “every day.” He hands me a small pile of clothes, “I’ll leave you to change.”

I nod, “thank you.”

He kisses me on the top of my head, “see you in a second princess.”

My breath catches at his words and tears come to my eyes. He must notice because he’s looking at me thoughtfully but after a moment he shakes his head and pulls away leaving me alone in his room. I look down at the clothes he’s given me. There is a blue shirt; I’ve seen him wear it to work before and a pair of boxers. I pull the clothes on quickly; happy with the fresh clean feeling they give me. I make a pile of my own clothes; the dress and my underwear. I take one last look around the room before glancing down at his bed. He’d never know, I think to myself. I listen for a second to check that he’s not about to come back before leaning down and picking up his pillow. I breathe in the smell of him before putting it back down and leaving the room. I leave the pile of clothes by my handbag in the hallway and walk into the living room. He’s waiting for me. He looks serious. He’s sat on the sofa. He’s got his t-shirt back on. He smiles at me, “come here.”

I don’t speak but do as he asks. I go and sit next to him on the sofa. He turns so that he’s looking at me, “Clara, why does the nickname princess upset you so much?”

“It doesn’t,” I try to deny it. Truth is, it always has.

“Don’t lie princess. I can tell. You just winced for fucks sake.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair.

“Do you really want to know?” I ask him.

“Is it my fault?” he asks. Even when we were kids he’d always called me princess.

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then why?” he asks. He isn’t going to drop this.

“My mother.”

“But you don’t know your mother.” His words sound harsh but I know he’s just trying to clarify the situation. He isn’t trying to be unkind.

“No, I don’t. I never have.”

“Never?” he’s surprised.

“She left when I was a baby.”

He exhales sharply. I pull my legs up to my chest as I begin to explain, “I’ve never even spoken to her. I don’t know her name. I used to...”

I gasp as he pulls me into his lap so that I’m in his arms. I try to avoid looking at him but he pulls on my chin gently until our eyes meet. “Tell me.”

“Why?” I ask, silently begging him to let it go.

“Because I need to know if I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not.”

“You winced.”

“I’ve winced at a lot of things that you’ve said to me.”

“Not today,” and I hear what he’s saying loud and clear; that today is our fresh start.

“When I was a little girl, before you knew me, I used to pretend that she was a queen or a princess of some distant Disneyesk land. I used to tell Anna that one day she would come and rescue me because I’m a princess.”

“You are a princess,” he pulls me tighter into his arms. “You’re my princess.”

“I’m not,” I sigh, “I’m just Clara and that’s okay.”

“I’m never going to stop calling you princess, you know that right?”

I frown because I don’t really understand why he won’t just leave it. “Clara, if your mother doesn’t realise your value then she’s an idiot but it doesn’t make you any less valuable. You might not be her princess but you’re certainly mine.”

I’m crying so I lean my face into the crook of his neck so he won’t see. “Don’t hide from me, Delos.” He chastises me softly. “When my mum tried to kill herself, I blamed myself.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course on a purely intellectual level I know that but emotionally... I just thought I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to keep her sane... to keep her alive.”

“That’s what I worry about...” I say it so quietly I’m not sure he will actually hear me. “That if I agree to meet her, I’ll realise that I’m right because I can’t understand why I wasn’t enough to keep her... or why she didn’t take me with her.”

“I’m sorry Princess,” his words are soft, “please don’t be sad. Do you want to watch a film? I got popcorn.”

I smile at that, “flavour?”

“Toffee of course,” he’s smiling sweetly, “you never did like sweet or salted popcorn.”

“What are we going to watch?”

“Anything you want, Clara.”

“Whatever you can find will do,” I tell him honestly.

He selects a movie. It’s a classic Hitchcock’s so I know it’s going to be good but I’m barely paying attention to it. Right from the moment he presses play, my focus is on him. He’s lying on the sofa next to me. I’m curled around him, with my head on his chest. I can hear his heart beat. It’s softer than it was earlier. His hand is running up and down my spine and it’s very distracting. I sigh with frustration and I hear him chuckle, “alright princess?”

“Fuck you,” I grumble.

“That’s not very nice,” he’s such a smug bastard sometimes. “Not enjoying the film?”

“It’s a great film.” I refuse to give in.

“But you aren’t enjoying it,” he’s chuckles again before turning off the television, “tell me what you want to do.”

I don’t want to rush but my body is on fire and he’s still touching me. “You bastard.”

“I’m a bastard now am I?” trust him to find this entertaining. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Perhaps if I can get his hands off me, I can cool down. “I’m hungry.”

He grins at me wolfishly, “hungry?”

I ignore the double meaning in his tone, “yes hungry... I think you should make me some lunch.”

“Lunch?” his grin doesn’t falter, “What would you like?”

“Anything,” I reply, “whatever you can make.”

“Well I don’t know,” he’s smirking now, “I’d be happy to just eat you.” He bites down on my  shoulder gently making me gasp. His fingers are still making a trail along my spine. “But if it’s food you want...” he sighs and gets to his feet, leaving me alone on the sofa. I very nearly call him back and beg him to take me right here on the sofa.