Make Me Believe Page 5

  “That’s what I just said. There’s no such thing as fate,” he replies. Then his smile disappears and he turns away from me. “If fate,” he spits the word out, “truly existed, certain things wouldn’t happen to really good people.”

  Right, Daniel is proving to be just as cryptic as his uncle. Yet, there’s a small part of me who still wants to help this geeky guy while, at the same time, I feel so on edge.

  I stand and walk inside to the coolness of the flat. I can’t think while sitting outside in this heat anymore.

  I pace the floor, looking down, pondering his request. I huff, irritated with myself, but I’m relieved that Daniel doesn’t follow me inside. Somehow, he seems to know that I need some alone time.

  One of my very strict rules has always been to keep away from spending too much time with the opposite sex. I don’t want to get to know men, and here’s one, sitting right outside on my balcony, who wants me to spend time with him every single day?

  Ugh. I am going to regret this, I know it.

  I stop pacing in front of my bookshelves and call out, “Daniel?”

  I stand with my back to the balcony but turn around when I can hear him move towards me. He looks really nervous again.

  “I need time to think about this,” I tell him.

  His smile is blinding. “Of course, I understand perfectly. Just text me later when you’ve come to a decision, alright?”

  I nod and go to my front door, and he quickly follows behind me.

  I turn the lock and open the door. “I will.” I venture to take another look in his eyes, and I can feel a blush starting in my cheeks. Hang on, what is happening here? This isn’t me!

  “Thanks.” He walks out, leaving me alone.

  As soon as I’ve locked the door, I run to my coffee table to grab my phone. I swipe the screen and quickly find Suzy’s number.

  I type a text, my fingers fumbling.

  Me: You will NOT believe what just happened!

  I hit send and head for the kitchen. My throat is parched, and I’m dying for a drink. This is bad, this is really bad.

  Only a few seconds pass before I get a text back.

  Suzy: Well, if you’re about to say you went clubbing after you left me last night and ended up drunk AND in a threesome, I’m going to be incredibly disappointed you didn’t invite me with you! ;-)

  A hysterical laugh escapes my lips, easing the panic rising for a moment.

  Me: NO, you tosser! No, this is WAY worse! Are you home?

  Almost immediately, a reply comes back.

  Suzy: For a while yet, so just come by. xx

  I sigh loudly, relieved beyond measure.

  Me: See you soon, honey. THANK YOU! xxx

  I grab my clutch, my phone, and put on some black ballerinas, and hurry to my kitchen to find my keys hanging on the wall.

  I’m out of the door before even a full thirty seconds has passed.

  Chapter 7

  “I mean, this is the worst idea ever!” I exclaim as I pace in front of Suzy who’s quietly watching me from her sofa, a nonplussed look on her face.

  Arms flailing, I continue my rant, “Yes, it might be a good idea, as far as putting tutor on my résumé, but, personally, it’s really bad.” I take a quick look at Suzy, who’s now looking as if she’s holding back from laughing.

  I stop and glare at her. “This is not funny, Suzy! I’m freaking out here!”

  Finally, she can’t hold back, and an honest-to-god belly-holding laugh erupts from her. I cross my arms in front of me, tapping my right foot, and wait her out. To tell the truth, I’m pretty miffed.

  She wipes tears from her eyes. “Em, you ruined my make-up,” she scolds me, and she quickly stands and hurries to her bathroom.

  I gape at her, lost for words, before my frozen feet scurry after her. “Suzy!” I shout. “Did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

  “Oh, I heard you, sweetie,” she responds calmly while picking up her mascara.

  I stand in the doorway, dumbfounded. “And?” I ask impatiently. “Why are you not trying to console me?”

  She leans towards the mirror above the sink and begins to fix her looks. “For one thing, I’m supposed to meet Thomas in less than half an hour and I want to look my best before I leave.” Oh, bloody hell. I forgot.

  As I open my mouth to apologise, she continues, “For another, I don’t see why this is bad. As far as I can see, there’s no harm in taking the job. I mean, Daniel sounds like a good guy, and the fact that he’s your boss’s nephew isn’t really that horrible, is it?”

  I shake my head. “You don’t understand . . . ,” I begin, and she interrupts me:

  “No, Em, I really don’t. This might be a good thing. Maybe tutoring Daniel will be good for you,” she says and picks up her brush.

  I sigh, and I can feel my already weakened resolve slipping further. Then something she just said makes me frown.

  “What do you mean, that maybe it’ll be good for me?” I ask her suspiciously.

  “Well . . . ” She turns to look at me closely, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll just come out and say it: Maybe you and Daniel will end up more than friends, Em . . . And I actually want that to happen for you.”

  My mouth hangs open, and I try to come up with the right words. “What . . . I . . . eh? No,” I finally stammer, and my sweet, romantic, devious friend chuckles.

  Suzanne grins triumphantly. “If he didn’t already have your knickers in such a twist, you wouldn’t be so flabbergasted right now.”

  As she moves past me and back into the living room, I follow her, gritting my teeth. “Do not think about my knickers, Suzy!”

  A snort escapes her as she picks up her keys and a small, expensive-looking clutch. She turns to face me, and I hold my tongue when I look in her eyes. The laughter is completely gone, replacing it with determination, and I’m scared to breathe for fear of hearing her next words.

  “It’s time to rethink the whole hooking-up-with-strangers scenario, Emma,” she adds quietly. “I’m tired of it, you know. I actually want to find the man -- or woman -- of my dreams and live happily-ever-after.”

  I don’t know what to say. She goes on, “I know that we’re young, and meant to live our lives wild and free, not thinking about settling down for at least another 10 years. But . . . ” Suzy hesitates and looks down, fiddling with the clasp on her clutch. “All I’m saying is that I’m done with it. I want something meaningful. And I think . . . ” As she stops again, I can’t help but dread what she’ll say next.

  She squares her shoulders and finally looks me dead in the eye. “And I think that, deep down, you want the very same thing as me. But you’re scared of going after it.”

  My head is reeling, and I have trouble forming words. I think a whole minute passes before I gather up the courage to whisper, “I’m so messed up, Suzy. I can’t . . . ” I swallow hard, tears gathering in my eyes. ”I can’t let anyone close to me. If you knew the reason why . . ..” A tear escapes me, and even though I just want to turn and bolt from my friend’s compassionate eyes, I muster up some more courage, “Well, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

  She gasps, and, suddenly, her arms are around me, holding me in a fierce hug. I grab onto her, finding strength in her embrace and begin to cry in earnest.

  “Don’t ever say that again, honey,” Suzy whispers in my ear. “Don’t you dare to even think that way. Please forget I said anything . . . .or . . . do you remember what I said last night?”

  As my tears subside, I simply nod, afraid that I won’t be able to hold any more back if I talk.

  “Well, whatever it is that you can’t talk with me about? It’s eating you up from the inside; I can see and feel it whenever we’re together,” Suzy continues to whisper emphatically.

  She loosens her hold on me, but I strengthen my grip around her neck; I’m afraid to let go. I don’t want her to look into my eyes right now. She lets out a breath but doesn’t protest, so
we just hold onto each other for a couple of minutes. Finally, I feel ready to let go, and I wipe my cheeks, a bit embarrassed now.

  Without looking at my friend, I urge her to leave. “You’ll be late for your date, sweetie. Best be off with you.” My usual mask seems unable to fall into place, and I fidget a bit, looking everywhere but at the woman standing in front of me.

  “Hey.” She breaks the silence, and I can’t keep away from her anymore so I look up. I’m still wary, though. “Didn’t you mention that this Daniel guy was cute?” She winks, trying to lighten the mood, and, despite my unhappy thoughts, a small smile breaks free on my lips.

  “Yes, he is very cute,” I sigh.

  “Well, at least it won’t be a hardship to be his tutor, then. He’ll be your own personal man candy.”

  Now I really laugh. “Oh, dear. What’s gotten into you, honey?”

  She shrugs and takes a step back. “I’m just trying to look on the bright side of life,” she says and turns to me. “You should try it sometime. Now . . . ” She walks briskly to her front door. “Stay as long as you like, darling. Just be sure to lock up after yourself when you’re ready to go home.” She opens the door and smiles at me. “If I don’t leave now, Thomas will think the worst of me.”

  I shake my head in wonder. “Always the optimist, aren’t you?”

  She smiles brightly. “Someone has to be.” And with that she leaves me alone with my ugly thoughts.

  I ponder Suzy’s words as I clean up my face in her bathroom. It feels as if my past is catching up with me; I have to admit that moving to another country, and being so far away from home, hasn’t helped that much. The nightmares keep a tight hold on me, and I can’t seem to break free of them on my own. Rationally speaking, I know that what Suzy told me is true: I should speak to someone about them. Alright, I’ll just go ahead and say it: a psychologist. The word alone leaves a sour taste in my mouth, my head starts to spin, and it feels as if my legs drop, leaving me on the floor, all trembling and scared of the unknown.

  I lie on my side, curled into a ball, holding on tight to my knees.

  I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it . . . The same thought runs around and around like a broken record, and I don’t know how long I stay that way. My eyes are closed tight, and maybe even I begin to drift away for a while.

  Suddenly, a pair of intense, green eyes fill my mind, and my shivers subside ever so slowly; my tight grip on my knees loosen, and warmth returns to my limbs. Finally, feeling slightly more conscious of myself and my surroundings, I open my eyes and move to sit up. My body is sore, as if I’d just finished working out, and I feel slightly lightheaded. Immediately, I remember that I haven’t had much to eat today.

  As I get up from the floor, I hold on tightly to the sink. I can’t believe I feel so weak . . . A spell like the one I just had hasn’t come upon me in months.

  I take a look in the mirror and wince. The bad thing about being a pale, freckled, and rosy-cheeked Brit is that it doesn’t take much to look like the walking dead. I turn on the faucet and wash my face, hoping the cool water will help clear my thoughts.

  My stomach growls madly, so I decide it’s time to satisfy my hunger. As I gather my things, I realise that it, in fact, is time for me to face the music: I need help. I resolve to do a search on the internet for psychologists when I get home. I might stop by the pub and have a chat with Camilla first, though. Her upbeat attitude might be just what I need right now.

  Chapter 8

  As I lock the door to Suzy’s flat, my phone rings. I quickly dig it out of my purse and check the caller ID. For the first time today, I smile: it’s my grandmother.

  “Hi, Nan!” I answer. “How are you?” I hurry down the stairs and out the door.

  “I’m fine, darling,” she replies. “Not much happens when you’re 85, so I thought I’d ring my favourite granddaughter and hear what’s going on in her life.” The humour in her voice is evident, but she also manages to convey her love for me at the same time.

  “I’m your only granddaughter,” I laugh.

  “Oh, a minor detail,” she tuts.

  I laugh again, but then sigh, feeling defeated. “Actually, I’m really glad you phoned me. I’m having a bad day . . . ”

  “What’s wrong?” All humour has fled, replacing her voice with worry.

  I sigh. “Well¸ I just had a bit of a . . . spell, I guess.” I pause and quickly take in my surroundings, making sure no one can hear what I say next. “I’ve had the strangest morning, Nan, and I feel unsettled.”

  “You haven’t fainted in a long time, dear. What brought this on?” she asks me.

  “I . . . ” I hesitate.

  “Come on, out with it,” she scolds me in that no-nonsense, grandmotherly voice that I adore.

  I huff. “Alright, alright. I met this guy, and – “

  She interrupts me, “Ooooh, did you now? When? Where? How?”

  “Shush, Nan,” I chuckle. “Please let me finish.”

  “Oh, alright,” she grumbles. “But I want all the details.”

  “You’re worse than Suzy,” I protest, but I can’t help but smile wider. Talking to my grandmother always has this effect on me. No matter what I do, no matter how self-destructive I used to be, I know that she loves me unconditionally; true, she has been known to give me quite an earful, but it was always followed by hugs and kisses.

  “Will you get on with it?” she urges me, evidently impatient, but I can sense her humour has returned.

  “Actually, I don’t have time to tell you every single detail, Nan, but I’ll email you later with them. Okay, his name is Daniel, and he’s the nephew of my employer, Mr. Andersen. You do remember him, don’t you?”

  She puffs. “I may be old, but I’m not senile -- of course I remember him. Go on.”

  I frown. “Well, apparently, he’s also my next-door neighbour, and he showed up on my doorstep this morning -- before I’d put on some proper clothes, I might add -- and I was so distracted that I just opened the door and let him in.”

  “Did you have sex?” Nan interrupts me again

  “NO!” I shout, quickly looking over my shoulder again. Luckily, the street I’m walking on isn’t full of people, but as soon as I see a bench further up the road, I hurry to reach it and sit down on it. That way, I can concentrate better on my grandmother.

  “No,” I repeat, more calm. “We did not have sex. I wouldn’t even contemplate that notion, Nan. He’s my boss’ nephew, for pete’s sake!”

  “Oh, don’t be so old-fashioned, Emma dear. But do continue, please. I need to hear what he said to cause you to faint.”

  “Daniel had nothing to do with the fainting part,” I quickly say. But is that entirely true?

  “Good grief, girl, you’re the worst storyteller,” she sighs. “When do you get to the point? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  “If you didn’t interrupt me all the time, it wouldn’t take me that long,” I protest, frowning and shaking my head.

  Silence.

  “Nan?” I ask, slightly worried that I’ve lost her.

  “I’m waiting,” she sighs. “Now, carry on.”

  “Right,” I answer, a small smile tugging at my lips. Honestly, this woman...

  “Well, he came up with a really strange proposition, Nan. He starts at uni this fall, but due to being dyslexic, he’s worried about being unable to keep up with the course-load. So he wants me to tutor him over the summer, and . . . ”

  She laughs hysterically.

  “What?! I’m not that bad,” I protest.

  “Oh, but, sweetie, you are,” she laughs, gasping for air. “I mean, do you remember when you tried to teach me how to use your computer?”

  “That was different,” I reply vaguely, and I drum my fingers on the bench, feeling a bit embarrassed now.

  “A-ha, was it, now?”

  I avoid her question. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

  “Please. Daniel’s dysle
xic, and him asking for your help is a bad thing, because . . . ?”

  I stay quiet for a while. “He has really beautiful eyes, Nan,” I finally whisper. “And although he seems very unsure of himself, when he lets go of his shyness, he has this certain smile that just . . . unnerves me,” I finish, feeling a bit foolish.

  “Aaaah,” she sighs. She gets me. “So that’s the problem, darling? He makes you feel? Remind me again why that is so wrong?”

  I hesitate, unwilling to bare more of my soul for the day. But I know my Nan, and she’ll keep nagging me if I don’t come clean.

  “I don’t want to develop feelings for him. I mean, I’m not saying that I will, but, you know . . . I’m not that girl, Nan.”

  “What girl?” she asks, clearly confused.

  “The girl who goes all gooey and becomes weak at the knees just because a cute and handsome bloke comes along and seems to be . . . different from all the others,” I sigh.

  “Emma . . . The fact that you fancy him does not make you weak,” she scolds me.

  “Yes, it does,” I whisper.

  “No, it does not,” she contradicts me firmly. “It simply means that you are human. And that you are, perhaps, ready to fall in love.”

  “Hey, wait, what?” I ask her, bewildered. “Who is saying anything about love?”

  “No one, honey, but this Daniel does seem to ruffle your feathers somehow, and opening yourself up to the possibility of more than just a . . . well, a quick roll in the hay, so to speak, is good.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “How difficult was it for you to say the last bit, Nan?”

  “Very,” she mutters. Then, in a lighter tone of voice, she continues, “I was rather wild in my day, as you know. But that does not mean I find it a tad strange to say . . . certain words.”

  I snort. “Of course not.”

  Silence settles as we both become lost in our thoughts.

  “I need some words of wisdom, Nan,” I finally break the silence. “Should I say yes to tutor Daniel?”