So Many Reasons Why (6 page)

“Hey!” I cried out in protest. “I was listening to that.”

“Yeah and I was sleeping.” He grumbled, putting on a pot of
coffee. “Can’t you wait for a normal hour before you go all domestic on me?” He
complained. He yawned, stretching his arms behind his head. His scruffy blonde
hair looked just as it did every day, which made me wonder if he ever bothered
to brush it.

“Two things asshat.” He ducked as the rag I threw at him
hurtled past his head. “One this is my house, and two its fricking 2pm-” My
phone started ringing. Tom scooped it up with interest.

“Give it to me!” I screeched, running at him. Tom, amused by
my reaction held the phone just above my reach. My knee hit his groin. As he
lost balance temporarily, I took my chance and lunged for the phone. Too slow.

“Hey, that was low, even for you.” Tom shook his head in
mock disgust. “Is this the crush? Oh, I so have to say hello.”

I watched in horror as Tom answered the call. I threw my
face in my hands and collapsed down onto the bench. This was bad. I tried to
block out his voice. I didn't need to hear what he was saying to know I needed
to be very embarrassed.

“Asshole.” I muttered.

“Hello?” Tom didn't even bother to hide his amusement.
“Emma? Yes she's here. And who may I say is calling? Simon. Right, finally.
I've heard so much about you. Em doesn't shut up about you.”

I groaned, stumbling to the couch. I was so embarrassed.
This was really bad. I threw myself onto the couch and buried my head in the
arm

“Uh-huh. Right. Yes I understand that.” Tom nodded, his face
serious, as if he was deep in the middle of an important meeting. “I do need to
know what your intentions are toward my Emma. Are you planning on becoming
intimate?”

“Fuck you Tom!” I screamed loudly. My face flamed. I wanted
the couch to swallow me. I was going to kill Tom. It may take a while, years
even, but he was going to pay for this.

“Right. Just be safe. And remember, if it's not on, it's not
on.” He wandered out onto the balcony, knowing I wasn't likely to follow him
out there.

Could this get any worse? I wondered how hard it would be
for Tom to 'accidentally' fall over the balcony of my level 10 apartment with
me still standing within confines of the apartment.

“Sure, I will put her on.” I felt the phone hit me on my
back. I reached behind to grab it. I contemplated hanging up. This was beyond
embarrassing.

No
. That
would only make things more awkward. I would have to speak to him eventually.

“Hello.” I mumbled, cringing.

“Well hello there.” He said, amused. Way too amused. He was
loving this.

“Hi.” I responded, feeling embarrassed. And angry. I was so
fucking angry.

“So, Tom seems like a nice guy.”

“Tom’s a fucking asshole.” I yelled, loud enough for him to
hear. Tom yelled back an inaudible response. Simon chuckled.

“So” I tried desperately to redirect the conversation.
“You’re at the park.”

“Yes, my daughter’s friend’s birthday party. I've been
making balloon animals all day.”

“Yes, your daughter.” This was good. Maybe I could scoop up
some information on the ex-too. “How old?”

“Four. A little ratbag.”

“I bet she's adorable.” I said, already knowing she was,
thanks to Mr Google.

“She is.” His voice softened dramatically. His whole
demeanour changed. I knew then how much his little girl meant to him. She was
the most important person in his life, it was obvious he'd do anything for her.

“And you share custody? How often do you have her?” I was
hoping I could lead this into gaining some insight into his ex-wife. Jealous
paranoid Emma was back.

“I usually have her two nights a week, and one weekend a
month. Claire is in Asia for work at the moment, so I have her for a week.”

“Claire is your ex-wife?” I asked innocently.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I am sure you have googled her
already.”

“No, I'm not some crazy woman.” I lied, forcing out a laugh.
Unfortunately, my voice came out way higher than I’d have liked. “Besides, why
would I Google a professor’s ex-wife?” God I am such a moron. He laughed again.

 “Anyway, I better go, I just wanted to say hello. And
to reassure you I'm not a psycho.”

“You probably think I'm the psycho now.” I moaned, shaking
my head. I was going to kill Tom.

“You’re not a psycho.” He chuckled. “I think it’s cute. And
Emma?”

“Yeah?” I squeezed my eyes shut, sure his next comment was
going to be another dig.

“I like that you have a crush on me.”

I groaned again, as his laughter filled my ears. He thought
I was cute. Cute was a monkey in a fur coat running around Ikea. I didn't want
to be cute. And I was no closer to finding out about him and Claire. He
chuckled again before hanging up. I saw Tom peer around the corner.

“Come here you bastard!” I growled, stalking toward him.

He was so dead.

Kitchen sparkling, lounge room clean, entire apartment
vacuumed, I flopped down on the couch exhausted. Tom had gone out on some hot
date. Probably an excuse to get out of my way. I was still pissed off at him
from earlier. He had said sorry over and over, but when you can't say the word
without breaking into fits of giggles, you're not really that sorry. I would
make him pay someday.

 I hadn't heard from Simon since the phone call. Which
really wasn't that unusual since it was only five hours ago. I just was not
used to feeling this way. I hated that I liked this guy so much. I hated it
more that I would probably never act on it. And if he made a move who knows how
I’d react?

The fantasy of him was great, and there was undoubtedly a
connection there, but being intimate with him, and not knowing how I’d react to
that, was unnerving. It was embarrassing that my mind was even going there.
Even the thought freaked me out. Yet, at the same time, it aroused me. Why
couldn’t I just pick a damn feeling and stick with that.  I hadn't even
met Simon, yet his voice sent me into a frenzy, and I checked my email every
five minutes in the hope of hearing from him.

Beep. Speaking of which.

If I never see another balloon animal it will be too
soon. What a day, though I did find out some interesting information so it
wasn't all bad.

My lips curved upwards in a smile. I was never going to live
this down. The good butterflies were back.  The doubts were still there, I
still didn't know where this could possibly go. Between my issues and his
recent break-up, even if we were both interested, that's a lot of stuff to work
though. And I hadn't even touched on the fact that he was my teacher. I needed
to stop thinking. This was going to drive me crazy.

Hope your daughter enjoyed herself. I am sure the
entire female population of your class has a crush on you, Mr Anderson. And
probably half the males.
 

I pressed send. The response was immediate.

Probably true. That's not something that holds much
interest with me though. Just you. Night Em.

I sighed, and threw myself onto my bed. The pillows
collapsed in a pile around my face, burying me at the bottom.
Simon
Anderson.
I'd read stories about people who met their soul mates online and
then travelled halfway around the world to marry them. I'd always though how
could you marry someone you've never met? How could you possibly be in love
with someone based on a few emails and Skype sessions? Those people had always
been filed in the lonely and desperate category for me. And that says a lot,
coming from the girl who never leaves the house.

I had never wanted love. Or maybe I did. Maybe I just knew
how much easier my life would be if I just cut myself off from any possibility
of love.

Until now.

We had never met, but I had developed intense feelings for
Simon. Part of me didn't want to meet him. What if this spark wasn't there in
person, and my bubble was completely burst?

Or worse, what if it was there?

In typical Emma fashion, I'd somehow managed to turn a
wonderful moment into a mountain of uncertainty and fear.

“What did you forget-” I stopped. I had swung open the door
expecting to see Tom.

It wasn't Tom.

It was Simon. Simon Anderson was standing in my doorway with
a sheepish grin on his face in all his wonderfully sexy glory. His arm was
stretched up the door frame, like he was holding it up. The sleeve of his shirt
was riding up his arm, revealing his wonderfully carved muscles. What girl
didn’t appreciate a nice set of arms on a guy? I know I did.

“Student records again?” The words came out in a stutter. My
heart thudded in my chest.  My hand shook as it gripped the doorknob. I
couldn't handle this. I needed warning. He couldn't just show up.

That wasn't fair!

I held the door open for him. What the fuck was he doing
here? I closed my eyes momentarily. I focused on my breathing.

“I've done so many things that could get me fired.” He
joked. Or half joked, because there was a lot of truth to that statement. He
stood awkwardly. It took me a moment to realise he was waiting for me to invite
him in.

“Come in.” I finally said, standing aside. I looked down at
myself. Why oh why was today a pyjama day of all days? To my amusement, he
blushed. He held up a pile of notes.

“Court documents.” He explained, handing them to me.

“They couldn't be emailed?” I couldn't resist another dig.

“They could.” He admitted. “I didn't want a paper trail of
me giving these to you.” He paused before adding, “And I can't Google you.
That's not fair.”

God, I hadn't even showered yet. I glanced down at my blue
snoopy pants and my pink spotted top. That was probably displaying nipple. I
crossed my arms over my chest.

“You look fine.” He said quietly, as if he could sense my
insecurity. “Beautiful even.” I blushed. He thought I was beautiful?

“Can I get you a coffee?” I asked. He shook his head.

“I have Maddie downstairs, I just wanted to get these to
you.” He smiled and cocked his head to the side. “I’d love to catch up sometime
if you're up for it though.”

“Sure.” I was startled with the words coming out of my
mouth. No Emma, you're not up for it. The smart thing to do would be to not go
forward with this. Unfortunately, one look in his eyes had me ready to sign up
for just about anything.

He nodded, looking relieved. “I will call you later.” Oh
god. His smile. If he smiled at me again he’d need to wipe me off the floor.

“How did you pull up after your party?” True to his word,
Simon called me that evening. Of course I’d been waiting impatiently all
evening like a cat on heat. An angry, frustrated cat on heat. Well, I guess all
cats would be pretty angry and frustrated when on heat.

Just like that, we fell into a pattern. Simon rambled on
about his daughter, his work, and how he got into teaching.

“When your father’s friend calls you up offering you a
teaching position at one of the country’s top universities, you don't say no.”

“So you like teaching then?” I took a sip of my coffee, and
pulled my legs up under my knees.

“I do like it. It's just more work than I thought it would
be.”

“Especially when you have students leaving their work till
the last minute then needing help.” I joked. He laughed, I closed my eyes and
imagined him. Those deep blue eyes, his thick dark hair. Oh and his lips. Those
lovely full red lips-

“Honestly, I've loved every one of your emails. And it's not
like you’re slack. You can't help being sick.”

I bit my lip. I'd been biting my lip so often lately ulcers
were starting to form. I'd forgotten the glandular fever fib, and I was annoyed
he had interrupted my daydream.

At the time it was easier than telling the truth. 
Agoraphobia was an illness. It was just the stigma that came with it made me
feel ashamed. I hated feeling that way. I think part of it stemmed from my
family being unable to accept my illness. They didn't handle things well, and
as a result, I didn't handle things well. I felt as though I had something to
be embarrassed about.

I’d
had a bad thing happen to me, but millions of people have bad things happen to
them and they get over it. It'd been ten years, why wasn't I over it yet? Why
couldn't I move on? Why did
he
get to move on while I had to continue to
live in this hell?

“Some days I feel better than others.” That wasn't a lie.
Some days were easier than others for me. Like today. Today was a good day. And
it was getting better by the minute.

“How long will you be out of action for?” He asked
curiously.

“Depends. I need another round of blood tests in a couple of
weeks, will see what they say then. So, you dropped by.” It was a desperate
attempt to change topic. Lying to him was hard, I much preferred to avoid the
subject of my illness altogether.

“I did.” He agreed. “I love your place by the way.” He said
“Such an amazing view.” I let out a breath. My distraction powers had worked.
For now. Eventually it was going to catch me though, and the thought of that
had my stomach in knots. For a change.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Mom and dad were insistent that I
live somewhere within their apartment block if I was going to live alone. They
pay for it. I wasn't happy with that, but if you knew my dad, you wouldn't
argue.” How ironic. I barely knew my dad.

“That's good,” Simon pointed out, “that your parents care so
much. I see so many kids who have screwed up their lives and it usually starts
with something bad at home. They seem very protective of you.” I swallowed the
urge to tell him my family wasn't as supportive as they seemed. I'd rather have
my dad talk to me than shell out money for an apartment. He lived less than ten
minutes away, yet he can’t find the time to visit?