End of Part 166:
Jemima’s POV:
Jeanette wandered off, and I sat staring at my bottle, wishing I could do something to change the situation with my flatmates. I was so lost in thought; I jumped a foot in the air when he spoke to me.
“Hello,” he said.
I turned, wafting a gust of smoke from behind me out of my eyes.
“Hello,” I replied. I was nervous; I hadn’t met anyone new in the bar for years, and he was very different from the normal lot in here. But, I also felt strangely grateful to him for being there.
I held out my hand, smiling, and it was almost a real smile. “I’m Jemima.”
He took my hand, shaking it. He smiled back at me, and all the nerves floated out of me.
“I’m Ivan,” he told me. “I’m very glad we’ve met.”
……………
Part 167:
Jemima’s POV:
He let go of my hand, and I wished he hadn’t. I turned back to the bar and took a swig of my drink before turning to face him again,
“So, what brings you here Ivan?” I asked, twisting my hair around my fingers. I was honestly curious; it felt weird to really care about something. For so long I’d been faking friendship with people who bored me, and asking questions but not listening to the answers.
Ivan smiled, meeting my eyes. His eyes were beautiful. They were a deep, inky black, yet the darkness wasn’t empty. It was full of fire. Ivan was dangerous and thrilling. He made me want to really live.
“I’m looking for someone,” he replied.
“Oh,” I muttered, not sure what to make of that answer. “Are they here?”
“No.”
“Will you be l-leaving, then?”
My eyes pricked at the thought of it. Ivan was my escape route; my source of excitement, and maybe even adrenaline and danger. If I left, then I’d have to go back to my boring job and my boring flat and this boring pub. This brief feeling of exhilaration will fade away, never to return.
Ivan smiled, rested his hand on top of mine on the bar. My heart stuttered.
“No. The person I was looking for isn’t here, but you are, and that’s even better,” he told me; I didn’t even try to disguise the grin that lit up my face.
My heart was racing, and I felt dizzy. I took a sip of my drink, trying to calm myself. I couldn’t relax, though; I was restless. Ivan smiled as though he could hear my thoughts. His hand was still on top of mine; he curled his fingers through my fingers, lifting our hands off the wooden top of the bar.
“Jemima, would you care to take a walk with me?” he asked, getting to his feet.
It sounded so strange and old fashioned, that I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Of course,” I answered, getting up off the stool.
I left my drink half finished, and we walked out of the smoky, loud pub and out into the cool night air. Our hands were still intertwined as we walked along the street. I gazed up at the moon, smiling. I barely noticed as we sauntered past the block of flats where I lived; I barely heard the shouting coming from the open upstairs window.
When Ivan and I reached the park, we sat down on a bench and gazed out at the empty playing field. Bathed in moonlight, it looked almost magical; it was hard to believe that, by tomorrow, crowds of rowdy boys would be running about on it, playing football.
I had so many memories of this park, but none of them would ever compare with now. No one could compare with Ivan. It wasn’t just the way he made me feel, it was the way he just was. He was unbearably, unbelievably handsome. He had pale, clear skin, and dark eyelashes surrounding his black eyes. His hair was dark and thickly curled, though it was very short. It was so unnatural… so wonderful… so perfect yet so strange… that someone as amazing and dangerous as him would come to such a small, dull town and choose to spend time with me.
He let go of my hand, and wrapped his arm across my shoulders. He pulled me against him; I rested my head on his chest. I closed my eyes…
Then they flew open again as I jumped back, ending up on my feet. Something was very wrong here; very, very wrong - even more unnatural than someone as glorious as him being here.
“What?” Ivan asked, looking hurt and surprised. He was standing now, but still about a foot away from me.
“You, you…” I stuttered my heart pounding and my breath coming in gasps.
He had no heartbeat. He was dead.
Yet, here he was in front of me, as alive as the next person. It was so wrong… but, I realised with a jolt of adrenaline, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that Ivan was weird and had no heartbeat. In fact, I loved it.
“You have no heartbeat,” I finished calmly, moving slowly over to him. “But I don’t give a damn.”
Then, I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. It was gentle at first, and then it grew more ferocious as my hunger increased with every passing second. He lifted me off the ground, kissing me back with a passion and intensity I couldn’t grasp.
He moved to kissing my neck; I didn’t realise at first that the fire which began to burn through me was more than just an overpowering desire for him.
Jemima’s POV:
Jeanette wandered off, and I sat staring at my bottle, wishing I could do something to change the situation with my flatmates. I was so lost in thought; I jumped a foot in the air when he spoke to me.
“Hello,” he said.
I turned, wafting a gust of smoke from behind me out of my eyes.
“Hello,” I replied. I was nervous; I hadn’t met anyone new in the bar for years, and he was very different from the normal lot in here. But, I also felt strangely grateful to him for being there.
I held out my hand, smiling, and it was almost a real smile. “I’m Jemima.”
He took my hand, shaking it. He smiled back at me, and all the nerves floated out of me.
“I’m Ivan,” he told me. “I’m very glad we’ve met.”
……………
Part 167:
Jemima’s POV:
He let go of my hand, and I wished he hadn’t. I turned back to the bar and took a swig of my drink before turning to face him again,
“So, what brings you here Ivan?” I asked, twisting my hair around my fingers. I was honestly curious; it felt weird to really care about something. For so long I’d been faking friendship with people who bored me, and asking questions but not listening to the answers.
Ivan smiled, meeting my eyes. His eyes were beautiful. They were a deep, inky black, yet the darkness wasn’t empty. It was full of fire. Ivan was dangerous and thrilling. He made me want to really live.
“I’m looking for someone,” he replied.
“Oh,” I muttered, not sure what to make of that answer. “Are they here?”
“No.”
“Will you be l-leaving, then?”
My eyes pricked at the thought of it. Ivan was my escape route; my source of excitement, and maybe even adrenaline and danger. If I left, then I’d have to go back to my boring job and my boring flat and this boring pub. This brief feeling of exhilaration will fade away, never to return.
Ivan smiled, rested his hand on top of mine on the bar. My heart stuttered.
“No. The person I was looking for isn’t here, but you are, and that’s even better,” he told me; I didn’t even try to disguise the grin that lit up my face.
My heart was racing, and I felt dizzy. I took a sip of my drink, trying to calm myself. I couldn’t relax, though; I was restless. Ivan smiled as though he could hear my thoughts. His hand was still on top of mine; he curled his fingers through my fingers, lifting our hands off the wooden top of the bar.
“Jemima, would you care to take a walk with me?” he asked, getting to his feet.
It sounded so strange and old fashioned, that I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Of course,” I answered, getting up off the stool.
I left my drink half finished, and we walked out of the smoky, loud pub and out into the cool night air. Our hands were still intertwined as we walked along the street. I gazed up at the moon, smiling. I barely noticed as we sauntered past the block of flats where I lived; I barely heard the shouting coming from the open upstairs window.
When Ivan and I reached the park, we sat down on a bench and gazed out at the empty playing field. Bathed in moonlight, it looked almost magical; it was hard to believe that, by tomorrow, crowds of rowdy boys would be running about on it, playing football.
I had so many memories of this park, but none of them would ever compare with now. No one could compare with Ivan. It wasn’t just the way he made me feel, it was the way he just was. He was unbearably, unbelievably handsome. He had pale, clear skin, and dark eyelashes surrounding his black eyes. His hair was dark and thickly curled, though it was very short. It was so unnatural… so wonderful… so perfect yet so strange… that someone as amazing and dangerous as him would come to such a small, dull town and choose to spend time with me.
He let go of my hand, and wrapped his arm across my shoulders. He pulled me against him; I rested my head on his chest. I closed my eyes…
Then they flew open again as I jumped back, ending up on my feet. Something was very wrong here; very, very wrong - even more unnatural than someone as glorious as him being here.
“What?” Ivan asked, looking hurt and surprised. He was standing now, but still about a foot away from me.
“You, you…” I stuttered my heart pounding and my breath coming in gasps.
He had no heartbeat. He was dead.
Yet, here he was in front of me, as alive as the next person. It was so wrong… but, I realised with a jolt of adrenaline, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that Ivan was weird and had no heartbeat. In fact, I loved it.
“You have no heartbeat,” I finished calmly, moving slowly over to him. “But I don’t give a damn.”
Then, I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. It was gentle at first, and then it grew more ferocious as my hunger increased with every passing second. He lifted me off the ground, kissing me back with a passion and intensity I couldn’t grasp.
He moved to kissing my neck; I didn’t realise at first that the fire which began to burn through me was more than just an overpowering desire for him.
