Old times' sake

Kristine Atterbury, Contributor

He was staring at her. Shay could tell. Even with her back turned, she felt something charge the air around her, the hairs on the back of her neck rising with self-consciousness. She turned slightly and her eyes locked with his, a tall, wide-shouldered man with a heavy brow and a goatee. He was dressed casually, a black corduroy blazer over a white T-shirt with dark blue jeans. His eyes were bright and clear and intent on hers. He was sitting in one of the armchairs near to the bar, leaning back, a careless hand slung over the back of the chair.

Shay noted all of this in the five seconds it took her to glance at him, and turned back around slowly, her gaze flitting over the rest of the room as if she had barely noticed him and was simply checking out the scenery. When she turned back to her drink, Debbie was grinning at her, gleefully.

"Yes, Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome," Debbie whispered with delight. "He remembers you, I can tell. Go say something!"

Shay put her drink down and eyed Debbie. "Of course he remembers me. We spent a whole year of high school wrapped up in each other's arms."

"Well, go talk to him."

Shay shook her head. It had been too long since she had seen Mark Shepherd; almost 15 years. It was cruelly typical that he looked nearly the exact same while she was starting to notice fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Besides, she wasn't interested.

"Slow your roll," she said. "It's too soon to be looking already."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Shay," she said, "it's not like somebody died. It was a divorce! And who better to celebrate your new freedom with than an old boyfriend?" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I heard he wasn't too excited about your marriage."

"No, no, and no." Shay said firmly. "I just want to relax, have a couple drinks and go home. No mix-up, mix-up."

Debbie tried another tack. Her devilish expression changed to one of sympathy. "Is this because of the new girlfriend?"

Shay's stomach dipped with irritation and she put her drink down. "I'm not talking about this."

Debbie carried on, undeterred. "I mean, Alan got over it quick, didn't he?"

Shay crossed her arms.

"And it's just so sad," Debbie continued, "that you're still alone."

That was it. Shay stood up grimly, finished the rest of her drink in one swallow, and walked over to where Mark was sitting.

He looked up at her in mild surprise, before his face rearranged itself into smooth lines once more. She gestured at the chair next to his. "Is this seat taken?" she asked, and then sat down without waiting for his reply.

He looked at her with eyes laced with amusement. Shay looked back at Debbie who was grinning at her triumphantly. She bit down on the inside of her lip and thought, not for the first time that night, that she would have been better off staying at home.

"Listen," she said, leaning forward slightly. The front of her blouse slid forward and she watched wryly as his eyes travelled beneath her neckline without shame.

She took a deep breath. "I only came over here because Debbie wanted me to. She thinks we should catch up."

When he spoke, his voice was deep and husky. "We should. How have you been?"

She fixed him with a look. "I'm sure you've heard all about Alan leaving me."

Wisely, he decided to leave that one alone. "Would you like another drink?" He motioned to her empty glass.

"No," she said. "I'm not staying long."

He leaned forward now, and the scent of his cologne crept over her. "You look really good."

She shook her head impatiently. "Mark, please, don't even go there. All I'm doing is showing Debbie that I'm over my husband. Ex-husband."

He nodded, as if that explained everything.

"And when do you think you'll be over him?"

"I am!" she said, indignation creeping into her voice.

He laughed, a very rumbly, sexy laugh, which Shay would have taken more notice of, if she hadn't been so offended.

"Trust me," he said. "You're not."

Shay leaned back and crossed her arms. "You don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes fixed on hers, the whites so clear they were almost electric.

"Tell me."

So she did.

She started with how they had met, how Alan had pursued her from the beginning, how he had left his fiancée for her, how within six months they were living together and married within a year. She talked about how he was always busy with work, and how she never questioned him when he came home late because he hated that kind of thing, hated jealous women, and that was why he had left his fiancée in the first place. She described two years of absolute cluelessness while all of their neighbours knew what was going on. The whole time, he merely sat and listened, his eyes alert.

"Anyway now he's with somebody else," she finished lamely. While she was talking he had ordered more drinks, and now she was on her fourth.

"My head feels fuzzy," she said. He laughed that sexy, rumbly laugh again.

"You were always a lightweight," he said, sliding her drink away from her. "No more for you."

"Well, anyway," she said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I guess you probably need to go."

"Actually I do," he replied, signalling the waiter for the cheque. "I have an early meeting."

Shay nodded, feeling just a bit disappointed. Not that she was interested, but still.

"You have a ride home?" he asked.

Shay looked around for Debbie.

"She left half an hour ago," he told her. Shay shook her head. Typical Debbie.

"That's fine, I'll call a taxi."

She began to reach into her bag for her cellphone when he stopped her with a touch to her wrist. His hand was warm and his grip gentle. "I'll give you a lift."

Shay was quiet as they walked out of the bar towards his car, a black Mitsubishi of some sort.

After she gave him directions, she fell into an awkward silence. She had just told him her whole life story. And what for? He probably thought she was pathetic. She closed her eyes and wished for the night to be over.

When he pulled up to her apartment building and insisted on walking her upstairs, Shay bit back her protest. It was late after all and this was Kingston.

She fumbled for her keys for what seemed like an eternity while he simply towered over her. "Were you always this tall?" she murmured, and her words slurred on the last word. He grinned at her and she felt a flush of heat suffuse her cheeks. Even more anxious to get inside, she kept digging for her keys. "Dammit man," she said in frustration. She felt him lean over her and reach a hand into her bag, picking out the keys easily.

She began to reach for them and he caught her hand, pulling her gently towards him.

"What?" was all she had time to say before he leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek, his stubble grazing against her skin and making her shiver.

Then her keys were in her hand, and he had stepped back.

"Good night, Shay," he said. She stared at him, her chest heaving.

A feeling of abandon slipped over her. Alan was enjoying himself, why shouldn't she?

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked.

He looked at her, his eyes inscrutable in the wash of the hallway light.

"Not right now," he said. "But soon."

With that, he turned and went down the stairs and into his car. Shay slid the key into the lock and stepped inside her apartment.

She stood in the entryway, trying to figure out what he had meant by his last statement.

When she heard the knock on her door 20 minutes later, she knew.