Amanda was starting to get a little jumpy, this feeling that started at the back of her neck, like the hair standing up on end. She couldn't get over it and it was distracting. She was starting to look behind herself nervously. Damned if she wasn't keeping her eyes on the doors. She tried to shrug this off and wasn't doing a good job. The party was a wash, she decided. She'd make her goodbyes and be on her way. Somewhere with locked doors. She hated this sense of being oversensitive to crowds, but it did strike sometimes.
Scanning the crowd for faces, she spotted her host in profile and drew up beside Kevin, opened her mouth to make her excuses. Kevin turned and beyond him she caught sight of a set of green eyes that made her knees buckle. Not here. He can't be here.
Kevin turned to her with concern and says "Amanda, are you okay?"
Green eyes turned and saw her, settled on her features. A smile with a bit of shock and a bit of promise reached his lips and eyes. "Amanda."
Kevin turns to look at the speaker, Vincent. "You two know each other?"
Amanda has turned pale and her eyes are wide.
Vincent smiles warmly. "Yes, Amanda and I go way back. Don't we, Amanda?"
Amanda swallows hard once and nods, almost imperceptibly, her brown eyes locked with Vincent's green.
Vincent's eyes trail down from her face to her hand, lingering for a moment, and then saying "Your drink is almost gone, let me fix that for you."
Vincent walks by Kevin, who slaps him on the shoulder in passing, then turns back to the remaining circle of friends. Taking Amanda's arm, Vincent heads toward the bar.
Amanda's breath pulls in a tight inhalation at the feel of his hand on her elbow, guiding her as her feet moved along stiffly. Reaching the bar he took her glass from her and put it down, and captured her hand, trailing the tips of his fingers over a void where a band had been last time he saw her. "Your wedding ring, Amanda. Where is it?"
She stared at him, mute. Just being around him made it impossible for her to think. She shook her head slightly, she didn't even know if it was to clear it or just to deny what was happening.
Who knew how it had started? Amanda and Vincent had worked together. They'd gotten to be friends, and then close friends. He'd always had a rainbow of women in his life. She'd been married. Safe. Close. Business. A humorous comfort to each other through the work day. They helped each other out, stayed late to finish projects together. Shared takeout food and war stories. Covered for each other. He talked about his women, she talked about her man. They helped each other through the day, developed strategies and somewhere along the way, admiration. Sounding boards.
Over time, though, they became edgy around each other. He stopped having a rainbow of women stories. She stopped smiling when talking about her husband. Then stopped even mentioning him. Their eyes got hungrier. They stopped touching at all, even casually.
One day he'd stepped up behind her while she was in a supply closet, closed and locked the door carefully, and told her not to turn around. Just to listen.
He'd poured out his heart, his thoughts, his love. She'd stood in stunned silence. She didn't move, didn't speak. Long after the door had clicked shut behind her, when he'd gone, she broke down to her knees and started to cry. She rested her head against the door, one hand pressed up against it, knowing he was on the other side, somewhere.
She'd gotten up on numb, shaking limbs, and tendered her resignation within minutes. She lied and claimed there had been a death in her family. Since she was obviously in such distress, and inconsolable, she gathered her things to respectful silence, and was gone.
He hadn't attempted to contact her. He'd assumed his confession had disgusted her and she'd fled. Just one more wrong turn. He'd asked for silence and he'd gotten it. If she'd answered at all...just one word, he'd have heard it in her voice.
She knew. Knew how much she was in love with him, thought she could bear it herself since he had seemed so remote. But with his words echoing in her head every day since, she'd left her job, left her husband, left her life. There was only him. And he was gone. And she wasn't worthy of him. What could she have to offer him? Terror? She'd made a mess of her life in five minutes. It was all gone. All what was left was wanting him. She was trying to rid herself of that. He made her unlike herself, something she couldn't bear.
She was trying to shake him off, like malaria, fever and chills, cyclically feeling better and then much, much worse.
He had turned to ice.
And here they were, she had all the raw truths but couldn't bear them. He was cauterized and wanting to taunt her. How much time had passed? Months. He's infuriated by how strongly he feels about this woman under his fingertips and she's terrified by how strongly she responds to this man. They both thought they'd healed, and they were both wrong.
His fingernails were digging into her wrist and she winced "Vin. You're hurting me." Her voice and eyes were pleading.
Seeing her in pain made him want to soothe it, until he was pissed off at himself for thinking such a thing. "Amanda, we both know I can't hurt you."
Her eyes closed and her head dropped and all he said was "We're leaving. I need some answers from you."
Pale and nerveless, she was guided out as if sleepwalking. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she was going to faint. She focused on the feel of his hand on her elbow, a dream state, sustained by his touch. Weightless.
He, on the other hand, was irritated by how good she smelled, what the feel of her skin was doing to him, and redoubled his efforts to remain calm and precise.
Calm and precision lasted for only a few minutes. Leaving the home, she was dizzy and lightheaded, and along the sidewalk to his car her heel twisted in a crack and she fell back to avoid wrenching her ankle. He interpreted this as trying to escape and his temper snapped.
Turning on her, his eyes were angry and she couldn't take it any more. Her cold hands captured his face and she said "Please. Please, stop. Please. Vin. Please. Don't look at me like that."
Dragging her closer, his voice was soft and angry "Why not, Amanda? How should I look at you?"
Trembling, her voice cracked into a soft whimper and her eyes closed. "Because I can't stand to have you angry at me. Please, don't."
He concentrates on calming down if only to get some sense out of her. "Amanda. Okay, okay." Pulling her closer to rest her head against his shoulder, he strokes her hair. "Okay. Let's just talk. I'm calm." He wasn't. He wasn't the least bit calm.
Neither was she. Being in his arms was terrifying and it wasn't getting any easier to say what she had to say. "Vin. I missed you. I missed you so much."
