Entangle Me

Chapter 7

The etching sound that dances across the kitchen window is enough to send my back straight and instantly my eyes open to pitch darkness as a thin layer of cold sweat rests on my forehead. What is that sound, and why is Adam not rushing up to check what it is?

Now that I'm awake I remember that I'm not in bed, but lying on Gabe's couch. A thick, blue duvet is covering my body, so it's no wonder I feel so sweaty. Pushing the blanket off me, instantly I feel the cool air lingering on my body.

The nausea swirls wildly in my empty stomach, and my head is swimming with full-formed regrets. Why did I drink so much? Why is there a crust of dried saliva on my lips? Why am I thinking about Adam, and how much I want to see him at this very instant?

In the silence, I am alone with my thoughts and it is horrendous. My melancholy hangs over me like a black cloud. I can't just lie here. I stand up in a hurry and regret it instantly. My brain feels swollen and numb, like a sink needing to be unclogged. The alcohol has definitely gone to my head now. Forcing myself to be steady on my feet, I move a few steps and the room starts to sway. Whoa, bad idea. Immediately I almost lose my balance, reaching for the couch arm to prop myself up. Water. I need water. I make a quick dash for the monochrome kitchen, which is nothing more than an extended part of the living room, for that cool drink.

The liquid goes down my throat, slaking my thirst. So delicious. I wipe my mouth and let the choleric thoughts run through my head.

How dare he do this to me? My hopes and dreams have been obliterated with the stroke of a pen, and I just let him get away with it. My fingers tightly grip the glass tumbler. All I can envision is his face becoming red from my slaps and it feels good. I can feel my hand making contact with his cheeks, and him just standing there while I do it again and again. How good would that be?

Every word that he uttered stings, and only serves to fuel the fire that burns inside of me. Every comment, every insult is like gasoline, and my teeth begin to clench. I slam the glass tumbler back on the kitchen counter in retaliation, and turn around to check the time on the microwave.

11.45pm

I don't know how long I've been asleep but surely I can drive back to my place and give Adam what he deserves.

I said that I would give him three days to pack up his things, but I just can't let him off so easily. He needs to feel the pain that I feel; he needs to feel heartbroken. There are so many more things I want to say; need to say. Objects I would like to throw at him.

I was with him for a quarter of my life, and he's just tossed it all away because of his rampant ego? He cheated on me just to feel better about himself, and didn't even spare a thought for how much it would hurt me. Instead, he wanted to have s*x on a public restroom floor immediately after breaking it off. Does that sound like the actions of a heartbroken man who left his fiancée jilted the day before he was to be married? I don't think so.

He deserves so much more than the verbal abusing I gave him, and I need to give it to him now.

In the hopes that I appear half decent in my hung over daze, I washed my face thoroughly and put on beige lipstick. Seeing how clammy my skin felt, I rubbed on foundation and applied several lashings of mascara. My hair is still voluminous from all the hairspray that's still in there.

I slip on a pair of hot pink sheepskin boots, a pair I keep at Gabe's place for whenever I am over, and I'm ready as I'll ever be. Having changed back into the black dress I wore at the rehearsal, I am in no state of mind to walk out in heels and drive.

Driving. Even though I doubt my ability to do so right now, I take Gabe's car keys sitting on the oak hall table near the door and head out. Grabbing my wallet and house keys, I quietly close the door behind me.Gabe will never need to know I took it for a drive in the middle of the night. I intend to have it back before he gets up. This is reckless and impulsive, completely unlike me, but it's the only thing on my mind and it's because of the anger I feel for Adam.

I push the door and walk out into the quiet street. Damn its cold, and I breathe out condensation as I start walking towards Gabe's car. It's parked out on the public street, only twenty metres away, and I walk as quickly as I can. As I reach it, I start to press the keys but my slippery hands fail me and they drop to the ground. I groan and bend down to reach, but my foot slips and I fall on my bottom, the thin material of my dress a terrible cushion. This is not a good start.

As I reach for the keys, someone, just a few feet behind, calls out to me.

"Are you okay?"

That voice.it's smooth and husky, striking a chord. Definitely a male. The mysterious man starts walking towards me but I remain stationary with my back to him. He finally stops beside me, waiting for an answer.

"I'm fine," I mutter. I expect him to walk away but instead he leans forward to catch a glimpse of me.

"No freaking way. Lacey, is that you?" The chuckle that replies is sneering, and I shriek internally because I recognise it. I've heard this laugh beforewherehow?

I glance up at him, my mouth ajar at the sight of the broad-shouldered man in bootleg jeans and a rolled up plaid shirt. I have to crane my neck as far as possible to see all of him, he's really tall. All I see is piercing, coffee brown eyes and short black hair. But that could be because it's pitch black and I can't really see him clearly. But that voice is so familiarit can't be who I think it is. Because if it is, he looks so different to the last time I saw him which was almost four years ago.

"What are the odds, Hansley's snotty little sister sitting here on the street. How hammered are you?"

"TrrrrrrTristan? Hansley's friend?"

"Okay, you're completely wasted."

What the hell is Tristan Keys doing here in Sydney, let alone standing in front of me? He is the last person I expected to see, ever. My brother's best friend all through high school, he was the most annoying person and I had to deal with him constantly.

Always one to tease me about my braces, my 'nerdy' braids, and my love for collecting 3D jigsaw puzzles and scrapbooking, he always found a way to badger me. Instead of a normal 'Hi' or 'What's up' he would instead greet me with 'Miss Strait-laced' or 'Prissy' and I would reciprocate by poking my tongue out at him.

Oh yeah, and I had a major MAJOR unrequited crush on him. I would always get so nervous and jittery whenever he came over to our place, which was often. He would always wear this ratty black hoodie and whenever he took it offwow. Back then he was a lanky and tanned drink of water. But I knew he could never be mine. He was too busy picking up girls that were blonde, busty and wellnot me.

So to see him after all this time is doing something funny to my insides. Hmmhe's so much more built than I remember, and his hair. It used to be so long.

"What are you doing back, h-h-here?"

He moved to New York almost four years ago, and by all accounts he's done very well for himself over there.

"I was having drinks at Surry Hills."

He glances down at my feet, shooting me a funny look. "What the hell is that you've got on your feet? Do you intend to go camping or are you always dressed this weird?"

Oh yes, he's still the same except his accent is smoother and a lot more refined. I need to get inside the vehicle now given my current state, I am in no mood to deal with anyone, least of all my brother's annoying friend. Planting my palms on the gravel pavement to push myself up, I manage it in one swift movement along with my wallet and keys.

"Heeeeey I'm comfortable, alright? I'm going home, soooooo if you don't mind" I fail to not slur my words as I stumble to the side.

His wide and engaging eyes look at me with serious doubt.

"Wow, even when you're drunk you're still a square. I really don't think you should drive though."

"Wwwwwhat I'm fine! I'm totally under the limit."

I put my palm out, in an attempt to block the vision of him. With a pressing of the keys, the car beams, and I go and pull the latch to open the driver's door. As I start to climb into the driver's seat, I shriek when his rough and solid hands grab my shoulders and all of a sudden I'm pulled back in one mighty motion. Instantly I feel warmer, he's like a big blanket.

My head is spinning in a way that just makes no sense. Tristan's face might be blurry right now, but it is obvious he means business.

"You are not driving. I'll drive you home," he says, voice gravelly.

"Nnnnnnnnno, that's not necessary" I squeal when he opens the back door and urges me forward, his hands locked on my shoulders. "Whhhhat are yooooou doing?!"

Lowering my head, he slides me into the backseat and guides my back onto the seat. He grabs the middle seatbelt and buckles me in so I'm lying on my back. Why am I lying down? I'm meant to be driving. But oh my, it feels so comfortable lying down

Keeping a respectable distance, the collar of his shirt skims my face and I can smell vanilla, and wine. Maybe the wine scent is me? Grabbing my ankles, he bends my legs but I am still very cramped, despite my short stature.

"Yooooou can't dooooo this!"

He closes the door to lock me in. No! Where is he taking me? My head feels like it's been on a rollercoaster ride through hell, and I squint at the black ceiling in order to concentrate. What's happening?

Tristan gets into the driver's seat and starts up the engine, and while waiting for it to warm up he turns around to ask me.

"So, how do we get to your place?" he asks, his throaty voice reverberating loudly in the car.

I swallow to lubricate my parched throat. "Go down this street, turn left onto Elizabeth Street and then a right onto Paddington Lane. Umm and then"

He reverses the clutch stick and drives out of the parking spot, driving down the street slowly.

"We'll get you home. Just don't fall asleep on me alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," I sigh, pushing my hair out of my face. My body is cold and hot all at once.

"It feels funny driving on the other side of the car. I do have a license, in case you're wondering," he assures me and keeps his eyes glued to the front.

His voice is so comforting. It's almost like a blanket. I always liked the voice, even if I hated the words that came out of the mouth.

"What was it like driving in the Big Apple?"

"I hate driving, this is the first time I've driven in years," he mutters, almost to himself.

"Why do you hate it?"

"I just do."

It sounds like there's something deeper there, but I'm not going to press on it now.

"That's not very reassuring. Just get me back home in one piece. And don't even think about making a move on me, I'm trained in self-defence." Ha! That'll show him from doing anything dodgy.

He laughs softly to himself, "Yes ma'am. Seems like somebody is still bossy and uptight." Compared to when Adam called me bossy, it feels light-hearted coming from him.

"And somebody is still" I trail off, putting my hand on my forehead. I close my eyes and instantly everything feels better. I'll just keep them closed a little bit longer

My breaths shallow and I drift into a wonderful dreamland.