Make Me Believe Page 3
“The Professor?” I’m confused.
“Yes, you know: Mr. Andersen?” He gives me an odd look, seemingly baffled that I don’t know who he’s referring to.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Of course, Mr. Andersen. No, he’s not here at the moment, sorry. He just went around the corner to buy us some lunch, though, so I’m sure he’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“He’s my uncle,” Geek Guy explains, and he extends his hand to me. “I’m Daniel.”
I hesitate a bit before clasping his hand firmly in mine. “Nice to meet you, Daniel. My name’s Emma.”
“Emma . . .,” he repeats my name, and I pull my hand free of his. This is getting a bit uncomfortable for me.
“You’re not Danish, are you?” Daniel then blurts out, and I give him a small smile, relieved. This is more familiar ground to me.
“No, I’m originally from England, but I’ve been living in Denmark and attending the university for the past year now. I hope my accent isn’t too horrible?” I smile teasingly.
Daniels smiles shyly back at me. “No, it’s not bad . . . I mean, you’re actually really good at it. I hear Danish is one of the worst languages to learn. Is that true?” He leans a hip on the desk, definitely settling in to chat, and I start to fidget. I don’t mind small talk, but I don’t do it with guys. Even if it’s one with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. I wish Mr. Andersen would get back soon, and I look down at the nail polish on my toes to avoid his probing gaze.
“It is a really difficult language, yes,” I answer, distracted by the bell over the door ringing and I turn my eyes to the door. Customers, yay!
“If you’ll excuse me,” I quickly say to Daniel, and he nods as I pass him.
I greet the customers -- an older couple in their seventies who frequent the shop a lot -- and try to ignore Daniel’s stare. I can feel it burning my back, and I’m guessing that he’s caught sight of the ten small stars tattooed on my lower neck. Ten is my lucky number, but it serves as a reminder as well.
“Emma, it’s nice to see you again,” the older man, Mr. Sorensen, says to me, and he shakes my hand briefly. I don’t really like being this touchy-feely with customers, but this man and woman are old-fashioned in many ways and seem to like the formality, so I try not to let it show that I’m a bit uncomfortable. His wife has already moved to the romance section, and she gives me a small, distracted wave before her eyes start to peruse the shelves. These are some of my favourite customers: they always take time to ask about me and my studies, and even though I don’t exactly tell them much, they always seem glad to hear about the goings-on of my life.
“The same to you, Sir.” I smile warmly at him. “Are you looking for something in particular today?”
“Well, yes, and I really need your help. You see, our son is moving to Greenland this fall – he’s got a teaching position there – and my wife and I were hoping to find a really good book about the country for him. Something a bit out of the ordinary. Do you think you can help us out?”
I take a moment to think about his request. “Hmm . . . Well, I do believe we have a very beautiful coffee-table-book that might interest you. Let me fetch it for you.”
“Ah, perfect. Thanks so much, Emma.” Mr. Sorensen moves closer to his wife while I find the book I’m thinking about.
The bell above the entrance sounds again, and I quickly look up to see Mr. Andersen walk through it, food in hand. When he notices Daniel, his step falters for a beat in surprise, but then he hurries towards him.
“Daniel!” He smiles and the two men hug each other. “When did you get here?” Mr. Andersen moves back, giving Daniel the once-over, and I can tell that he’s pleased to see his nephew from the way his eyes lit up when he saw him.
“Well, I’ve been here about 10 minutes, if that’s what you meant,” Daniel laughs. “Though, if you were thinking more about when I came to Copenhagen, I would have to admit that I’ve only been here 24 hours.”
“A bit overwhelmed, are you?” Mr. Andersen asks Daniel. “Well, I’m so glad you stopped by.” He turns around and calls out to me. “Emma, will you be alright for another half an hour? Need to do some catching up with my nephew here.”
“Of course. Take your time.” I don’t look at Daniel even though I can sense his eyes on me again, heating and prickling on my skin.
Mr. Andersen takes Daniel by the arm and directs him to our staff room, and as they move past me, Daniel manages to catch my eye. He gives me a small smile, but I quickly turn away and head back to my customers, carrying the chosen book in my arms.
“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen, this is what I had in mind . . . ”
“Thank you so much for your help, Emma,” Mrs. Sorensen says as I open the door for her. “I do believe you’ve found the perfect present. Again! Oh, and I appreciate you getting that new book by Nora Roberts out of storage for me. You’re really good at finding new romance novels for me to sink my teeth into.” She laughs, and I join in.
“It’s always a pleasure, Mrs. Sorensen. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend.” I hand her the bag with the gift as well as the two romance novels they also bought. Mr. Sorensen shakes his head, but smiles affectionately at his wife.
He nods at me. “And the same to you. Thank you.” He places a hand to the back of his wife, nudging her along, and she smiles widely at him as they leave the shop.
I wave at them before shutting the door and can’t help but feel a bit envious when I see Mr. Sorensen take his wife’s hand as they walk away. What must it be like to feel so much love when you get to be that age?
For once, I almost regret not being a romantic. Life has shown me too much ugliness for me to believe in fairytales, but every now and then, I wonder about the loving couples I see walking around the streets. They laugh, kiss, or simply look at each other in such an intimate way that I feel as if I’m an intruder to their show of affection. And I also feel saddened by it . . . because I know I’ll never have that.
My stomach growls again. It’s getting quite angry with me, and I hope it won’t be long before Mr. Andersen and Daniel are finished with their talk.
I’m just about to leave the front desk to grab myself a cup of coffee when I hear the door to the staff room opening. Male laughter erupts, and my shoulders sag in relief.
“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Mr. Andersen apologises as the two of them come closer. “You must be famished! Please feel free to take your lunch break now. I got the hummus sandwich for you, by the way.”
Warmness fills me at his nice gesture. “You spoil me, Mr. Andersen. You know it’s my favourite.” I look at Daniel, and what do you know? He blushes again! As if he was a fifteen-year-old schoolboy.
“It was nice to meet you, Daniel,” I acknowledge him politely as I pass him.
“Likewise,” he mumbles, and I’m just about to shut the door when his next words halt me in my tracks. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Shocked, I turn back and look at him, mouth agape. “What?” I ask dumbly.
Mr. Andersen jumps in. “Daniel here will be joining us in the shop, Emma.”
I look closely at my boss, and even though I can tell that he’s pleased with this new addition to our “family”, I can’t quite make out his thoughts. Usually, he doesn’t hide his emotions, but this time feels different, especially because he suddenly takes an interest to an imaginary thread on his sleeve, avoiding my eyes.
“Oh, I see,” I mutter. Then I paste a fake smile on my face as I glance briefly at Daniel. “Well, I’ll see you then.” Before I say something either snarky of embarrassing -- which tends to happen a lot when I feel unnerved -- I shut the door quietly and blow out a confused breath once I’m alone.
Suddenly, I don’t feel that hungry anymore. I can’t put my finger on it, but this news scream Trouble to me. It’s completely irrational, of course.
I sigh and head to the fridge. It’s a good thing Mr. Andersen bought me my favourite sandwich. It’ll help to cheer me up.
Chapter 4
After I’ve got some food in me, I feel so much more positive, and I wonder briefly why I freaked when I learned about Daniel working here. It’s probably the nightmare’s fault.
I’m filled with renewed energy when I leave the staff room, and I’m back to believing that it’s a good day. The way I felt when I left my flat earlier in the day.
Mr. Andersen is talking with some customers, so I head back to the storage room to get the last crates of books sorted. It’s nearing four pm when I finish with the last of them, and I’m glad I managed to do it before closing-time. I head back out to the shop, and I smile at Mr. Andersen who’s standing by the front desk, leafing through a new John Grisham novel. He looks up when he hears me and smiles back at me.
“All done?” he asks me, and I nod. “Good. Then I guess it’s time to close for the day, Emma.” He moves to the entrance, and I do the same.
“Do you need me to stay for a bit, Mr. Andersen?”
“No, I’ll manage,” he reassures me as he locks the door and turns the sign on the door from Open to Closed.
“I’ll go out the back, then.” I head to the staff room to get my clutch and phone and I check the screen for messages, seeing a new text from my friend:
Suzy: Hurry up, honey, I’m hungry! ;-) xxx
I smile big. She really is a great friend, and my guilty conscience rears its ugly head again. Ugh.
When I get back, I find Mr. Andersen staring out the window, a pensive look on his face. His demeanor confuses me, and I can’t help but feel that I’m intruding on his thoughts.
I clear my throat to catch his attention, apparently startling him.
“I’ll be off now, boss,” I say as I turn to the back door.
“What did you think of Daniel?” he suddenly asks me, and I stop and slowly turn around to face him, puzzled by his odd question. This is so strange.
I hesitate, jangling my keys lightly. “I didn’t speak with him much,” I reply.
He doesn’t give up. “But what was your first impression of him?”
“Well, he seems nice.” Awkward! my brain screams at me. “A bit of a geek,” I try to joke, and Mr. Andersen’s intense stare loosens up. I inwardly sigh in relief.
“Yes,” he mumbles. “He is nice. And he is a bit of a nerd, I suppose.” Now it’s Mr. Andersen’s turn to hesitate. “Listen, Emma, I don’t mean to sound so cryptic, but I know that Daniel could use a friend -- being new to the city and far away from home, you know -- so I’d really appreciate if you’d make a bit of an effort and get to know him.”
I’m dumbfounded. This is so unlike my boss, and I don’t know what to say.
“Well,” Mr. Andersen quietly says, “Please just think about it, Emma. Perhaps . . . ” he stops and looks down, hands in his pockets, lost in thought for a moment.
“Sure,” I reply lamely.
He looks up and gives me a small smile. “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” He lifts a hand in goodbye, and I move to the back once again.
“You, too,” I say quietly, and I leave the shop, confusion and apprehension waging war inside me.
What the bloody hell was that?!
Deciding that Mr. Andersen’s odd behaviour calls for something stronger than Diet Coke, I buy some white wine to go along with the pizzas. A small voice inside tells me that I really shouldn’t but I ignore it. I’m pretty sure Suzy will curse at me for the way I disappeared last night, so the wine serves more than one purpose.
My best friend lives practically around the corner from the shop, and she’s actually the one who made me apply for a job there when we met, so I owe her for that. Her favourite pizza place is only a stone’s throw away from her home, and I make sure to order an extra pizza in case she wants it. Suzanne has given me a key to her flat so I don’t have to hit the buzzer every time I visit her. I love her for trusting in me, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.
As I walk up the two flights of stairs to her flat, almost dragging my feet, I try to practice what to say to her, but, for once, nothing really comes to mind. I guess I’ll just have to wing it, and I cringe: I hate feeling this way, but I don’t know what to say to her; I mean, she’s heard the same excuses before, and I hate myself for lying to her.
I stand in front of the door and take a couple of deep breaths. When I feel my confident mask slipping into place, I’m relieved, and I give a quick knock before opening the door.
“Hi, honey! Don’t worry, I’ve got lots of pizza and fries to satisfy that hunger of yours!”
Suzy comes out of the kitchen to the left of the small hall, a frown marring her face. “You look worn out,” she scolds me and gives me a quick hug.
“Well, thanks for that,” I reply sarcastically as I follow her into the huge living room. Her flat is bigger than mine, but it has more like an open floor plan. I know that her dad tore down one of the walls when he bought it for her, and it was a good idea: you never feel closed-in here.
“Where do you want to eat?” I ask her and throw my clutch on her big leather couch that takes up the wall to our right.
“Let’s just eat here,” she replies. “I can’t bother with setting the table tonight,” she sighs and slumps down in her armchair.
I take pity on her as I scurry to the kitchen. “I’ll get the plates and forks”. As a bonus, it gives me some more time before she launches into her interrogation. There’s a certain tension in the air, and I know the storm is coming. That doesn’t mean I won’t try to avoid it for as long as possible, though.
“Don’t forget to bring glasses,” she shouts to me as I open her cabinets.
As I walk back with everything on a tray, I find her in the same position I left her in. Damn, it’s a really bad one.
“Don’t think that just because I feel as if an elephant is currently trampling on my head and I can’t really move, I won’t be laying into you soon,” she warns me, and I sigh.
“I know,” I reply quietly. “I’m really sorry, Suzy.” I put the tray on her coffee table and silently set the table. I can’t look her in the eye, and I know she’s very well aware of the fact that I’m trying to evade her.
She huffs in frustration. “I know that, Emma, but that doesn’t make it alright. You’re always sorry the day after. I really don’t understand you sometimes.”
I venture a look at her. The sadness in her eyes causes the guilt inside me to intensify. Her usual immaculate self is rumpled, and she hasn’t bothered with make-up for once. Her blonde locks have been put up in a messy bun, and her tanned complexion isn’t as noticeable today.
I sit down on the couch and remove my sandals before tucking my feet under me.
“Listen, Suzy, --”
“No, Emma, you listen to me for once: You drink too much, you party too hard, and you disappear when we’re out. One minute, you’re there, laughing with me, and the next you’re just gone.” I cringe as she soldiers on, “I end up spending most of the night looking for you or texting you. And I get scared, okay?” She finishes on a sniffle. Oh no, not the tears!
“I know you won’t tell me much about your past,” she whispers, and my body freezes automatically as I hold my breath while my heart picks up speed, racing away. I’m terrified if this is the moment I have dreaded for so long. Has she reached her breaking point? Will she no longer retreat? I force my face to remain blank as I wait for her to go on, yet pinch my lips tightly to keep the trembling locked down. “But I love you and worry about you, okay? So if you can’t talk to me about whatever demons that haunts you . . . ” She hesitates, so I finally muster up the courage to meet her eyes. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch, hands clasped between her knees, her brows furrowed. The hurt in her eyes pierces my chest.
“Well, please talk to someone, Em.” She takes my hand in one of hers and wipes away her tears on her sleeve. “Please just think about it, honey. Like I said: I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.” She stares hard at me before re
leasing her hold on me. “Lecture over, I promise. Now, let’s eat.” She opens one of the pizza boxes and takes out a piece.
I automatically nod my head, but I can feel that I’m not really there anymore. My thoughts have gone down a dark route, and I feel as if I’m about to throw up.
“Hey,” Suzy quietly says, and I move my eyes back to hers. She’s gobbling up her pizza in big mouthfuls, and I’m happy to see some colour returning in her cheeks.
“I met someone last night,” she tells me after she’s swallowed a piece, and I’m grateful to call her my friend once more. The tension in my body ebbs slowly. She’s finished, and she’s giving me space, like always.
I smile slightly. “Interesting. Who’s the guy? Or is it a girl this time?” My teasing helps my body relax again.
Suzy blushes. “His name is Thomas, and he’s been texting me all day.”
“You know,” I say, and take the fries out of the bag, “I wouldn’t think less of you if it was a girl. I mean, bisexuality is really interesting; might be an idea to try it,” I muse and pick up the Diet Coke.
Suzy laughs, and I’m happy to see her bubbling personality is resurfacing. “Yeah, right, as if that’d work for you. Emma, you’re so straight, and you’d end up running away, screaming, if a girl put some serious moves on you.” She winks. “Take me, for example.”
I snort as I remember the first time we met: at a club, of course.
Suzanne laughs some more. “I remember it as if it were yesterday: as soon as I caressed the side of one of your boobs, you became stiff as a board and you almost spit out your Cosmopolitan.” She wrinkles her nose. “I really thought you’d fancy me,” she sighs mockingly. “And then you started blabbering on and on about some weird novelist in the 18th century, and I knew you were a lost cause.”
I feel warmness returning to my body. “I’d so fancy you if I were gay, sweetie, you know that.”
Suzy takes another piece of pizza, a smug expression on her face. “I know. I’m a hot babe.” She winks lewdly at me, and I giggle.