Witch (Sydney Hart #1)

Witch (Sydney Hart #1) Page 24

I hadn't been in bed long, just enough time to find that comfortable place between semi-consciousness and sleep. There was a knocking sound, and, believing at first it was just my imagination, I turned over onto my side. The knocking came again, this time louder. I opened my eyes. The bedside clock read 00:03 hrs. Who could be knocking at this time of night? With my head cocked to one side above the covers, I listened.

Silence.

Sighing, I dropped my head onto the pillow again and closed my eyes. The knocking came again.

Louder.

I sat up.

It came again. This time more persistently.

Reaching down, I snatched my bathrobe from the floor and slipped it on, fastening it tightly about my waist. I went to the living room and the knocking came again. It was clearer now. Somebody was knocking on my front door. Slowly, I crossed the room and went into the hall.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Hello?" I called out, my hand hovering over the lock. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Vincent," he said.

With the side of my face just an inch from the door, I whispered, "Vincent, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I know it's late," he whispered back. "But I need to speak to you."

"Can't it wait until the morning?" I asked.

"Not really," he said from the other side of the door.

After quickly combing my hair with my fingers, I knocked my fringe from my brow and opened the front door. Vincent stood on the other side. He didn't look as if he'd been home since leaving mine earlier that evening. Beneath his open jacket, I could see he was still wearing his white police shirt, black work trousers, and boots. Vincent looked pale and nervous.

"Are you okay?" I asked, stepping aside.

Vincent came into my apartment and I closed the door behind him.

He appeared anxious as he looked about the living room.

"Are you okay?" I asked him again.

Vincent looked at me and nodded.

"You look kinda on edge," I said.

"Perhaps I should go," he whispered, brushing past me, heading towards the door again.

"Hang on," I groaned, taking his arm. "You can't just come around here in the middle of the night and wake me up only to disappear again. Tell me whatever it is you've come to say."

Vincent went to speak, then stopped. He took a bottle of Coke from his jacket pocket, unscrewed the lid, and drank. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he finished off the sticky black contents. He replaced the lid, put the empty bottle onto the coffee table, and took a deep breath.

"This isn't easy for me," he started nervously.

"It's okay," I said, looking at him with a frown etched across my brow.

"It's just that...oh, God where do I start..." he stammered as he fought to find the right words. "Okay...I'll be totally honest with you...I've been lying to you..."

"What?" I said, confused. "What does that mean? What, you've been lying about my father and what happened to Molly Smi - "

"No," Vincent cut in. "I haven't been lying about that."

"What then?" I snapped, starting to feel cheated in some way.

"Oh, God..." Vincent sighed, nervously wringing his hands together. "How do I say this...it's funny because I've been walking around and around the town since leaving here...going over and over in my mind how I was going to tell you the truth...and now I've completely forgotten..."

"Just spit it out," I snapped, placing my hands on my hips.

"Okay...mmm...let me think..." Vincent mumbled. Glancing around the living room, he added, "Where's your iPod?"

"Over there," I hissed, pointing at the dock on the other side of the room.

"Just wait right here," Vincent said, heading across the room.

I stood and glared at his back as Vincent fumbled about, trying to switch on the iPod.

"Oh, Christ, you're not gonna start dancing again, are you?"

Vincent didn't answer. Instead, the song I won't let you go by James Morrison started to play.

"Vincent..." I started, beginning to get annoyed by his games.

With the music playing softly in the background, Vincent came back across the room. He gently took hold of me by placing his trembling hands on my hips.

"Vincent, what the fu..." I started.

"Shhh," he hushed, "or I'll never say what it is I need to tell you."

"The truth, you mean?" I said sarcastically.

"Yes," he nodded and closed his eyes. Swallowing hard, he said, "Here goes nothing." Opening his dark black eyes, he looked at me as he gently swayed me from side to side in time with the music. "Mac never asked me to bring your iPod over here. I lied about that."

"Is that it?" I asked, not knowing whether I should feel relieved or not.

"I heard your father ask Mac to bring it over to you," he said, taking another deep breath. "I could tell Mac was busy, so I offered to bring it here."

"Why?" I asked over the music.

"I saw that picture of you in the newspaper," Vincent said, as if preparing to confess some great sin.

"The picture where I look fat, you mean?" I shot back.

"Yes...no!" he said. "I didn't mean it to sound like that the other night. I saw that picture of you and thought you looked..." he trailed off.

"You thought what?" I pushed.

"I thought...I thought...oh, God," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I thought you looked beautiful... and I wanted to meet you to see if you could really look as beautiful in real life as you looked in the picture...and on the way over here...I checked out your iPod because I didn't know what to say...so I thought if I knew what sort of music you liked...then we would have something to talk about...because I'm not very good at talking to girls...I always end up making myself look stupid and I was looking for something romantic that I could play...and I saw the song Every Breath You Take so I downloaded it...then I thought that perhaps that song with the words 'every breath you take I'll be watching you' would sound kinda creepy...and you would think I was a pervert...and..." Vincent finally ran out of breath.

I felt stunned by his sudden confession. "Slow down," I said, looking at him as he continued to sway me gently to the music.

"I'm sorry," he breathed deeply. "I shouldn't have said anything...I've gone and made a fool of myself...and embarrassed you..."

"You haven't made a fool of yourself," I said. "And you haven't embarrassed me. I'm a little shocked, but..."

"You want me to go...I can understand that..." he said, taking his hands from my hips. "I should've never come back...It was a mistake...I shouldn't have said anything...You must think I'm a right..."

"Shhh," I said, placing a finger against his lips. "I'm kinda used to men coming on strong...but nothing like this."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"You don't have to be sorry," I smiled. "You have no idea how nice it is to have someone do what you've just done."

"What have I just done?" he said, a confused look on his face.

"The most romantic thing any guy has ever done for me," I said, as James Morrison continued to sing in the background. "Most guys just grab my arse, stare at my tits, and do whatever they can to get me into bed on the very first date. No guy has ever wanted to dance with me...not like this."

Vincent placed his hands on my hips again and pulled me close. With our bodies pressed gently together, we stood in my living room and danced.

"If there's love just feel it...and if there's life we'll see it..." Vincent sung softly against my cheek. "This is no time to be alone...I won't let you go..." he continued to sing just above a whisper to the music.

Was this for real? I wondered. Vincent was a little odd  -  unconventional in his own way. But did this man really just want to dance with me? Just hold me in his arms? Had a man come into my life who wanted more from me than just sex? To be with him like this made me wonder if I had finally met someone who liked me enough to fumble their words, make a fool of themselves, come back in the middle of the night not to fuck me, but hold me  -  dance with me  -  tell me how much they really liked me. To be with Vincent like this made me realise what it was I'd really been searching for. Deep in my heart, I knew I was tired of those shallow relationships which never went further than the bedroom. With tears beginning to stand in my eyes, I wanted to tell Vincent how wonderful it had been to hear him say I was beautiful  -  and not just a good fuck.

"If your sky is falling...just take my hand and hold it..." Vincent continued to sing softly in time with the music, as we swayed against each other, cheek to cheek. "You don't have to be alone...I won't let you go..."

With tears spilling silently onto my face, I felt something I hadn't felt before. I felt I was in the presence of someone who really, genuinely liked me, and it is so hard for me to describe how that felt. Vincent hadn't come back to rip my clothes off me. He hadn't come to me in the middle of the night to throw me over the edge of the sofa and screw me. Vincent had come to hold me close, to make me feel warm, to make me feel special. For the first time ever with a man, I didn't feel like I had to be some kind of sex object...some sex-performing seal ....for him to like me  -  to want to be with me. For the first time ever with a man, there was a part of me which didn't feel alone.

The music stopped, and Vincent eased us apart. He saw the tears on my cheeks. Gently cupping my face in his hands, he brushed the tears away with his thumbs. Very slowly he leant forward and kissed me on the lips. The kiss lasted just moments. I opened my eyes as Vincent led me by the hand to my bedroom. Slowly, we climbed onto the bed and lay down next to one another, our faces just inches apart.

"I know what it feels like to be scared and alone," he whispered, folding his arms around me and holding me close. "You can sleep without fear of nightmares tonight, Sydney. You don't have to be alone. I won't let you go."

Slowly, I closed my eyes, and wrapped in Vincent's arms, I let sleep take me.