A Chance Encounter Rae Shaw (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📖

her before – the yearning, then the flight. The dark-eyed boy across the road, whom Mrs Asani was convinced fancied her daughter, had invited Ellen into his room after school one day. She had wavered, fighting the fuzzy feel of excitement. He had been too impatient and when she had dithered, he’d shrugged his shoulders, 'Forget it'.

She couldn't though. If she had gone with him would she have regretted it? Eventually, she had told Freddie. It wasn't long after she first started communicating with him. She had been convinced right from the start he was a catholic priest. When she had described her urges and the boy across the road's invitation, he’d rattled on about sin. Her theory about Freddie's faith lasted long enough for her to visit a church. Everyone sang the hymns she didn't know, stood up, knelt, prayed for starving children and wars, but nothing about sin or sex.

She had told Freddie she didn't believe in God because God would stop people from murdering each other. That was when she had confessed she wasn't a victim of crime and told him who her father was. He had heard of the case, knew the name and accepted her back. But he stopped mentioning sin and God, so she shelved the priest theory. Then, he had changed, and started to get suggestive, almost goading her on.

Turning Whathisname down was the right decision. It wasn't due to sin, right or wrong. Sleeping with him would have been a stupid thing to do and swiftly regretted. That kind of relationship wasn't what she wanted. What she wanted was the same thing she had felt when she had cut herself, but without all the questions that came with it. Of course, she had the answers. However, they, those responsible adults who had ruled her life until she left home, hadn't known that and they'd treated her like an imbecile.

She floated into sleep on her merry-go-round. It wasn't a pleasant sensation. She should give up drinking.

The journey home on the train the next morning was uneventful. Her friend wasn't really sober. They were both delicate and not daring to speak in case something unspeakable came up with their words. How did alcoholics manage?

Back at home, she confessed to Freddie she had almost slept with a stranger. She typed the words out and, without reading them back, hit send. Clasping her hands in her lap, she waited for his response. After a few minutes, she gave up and headed upstairs to knock on Nicky’s door.

‘Hiya, kiddo, come in.’

Ellen navigated her way past the piles of un-ironed clothes, the weights and the empty takeaway cartons.

‘For fuck’s sake, Nicky.’ She picked up the rubbish and dropped it into the trash can. ‘Don’t you want a boyfriend?’

‘Yes. A very domesticated one. Good wedding?’

‘Yes. I got very drunk and danced until three in the morning. The rest is a haze.’ Why lie? There was no shame in saying no to sex. Nicky probably did, when it suited him. She had lied because she wanted sex to be an unimportant thing. Nicky didn't care who he did it with, why should she?

‘So, you're okay?’ he asked.

‘Honestly, Nicky, I’m a bit hungover and emotional. Can we make some space in your pigsty and watch Netflix or something? I want company, that’s all.’ And, for the headache to go. She rubbed her temples.

‘Sure, honey.’ He removed a few things from the couch. ‘Can't seem to keep on top of things.’

‘Lazy queer!’

Nicky's eyes narrowed.

She shouldn't have said it. Only gay people used that word, didn't they? ‘I... I…’ She felt sick again. She turned to leave.

‘Forget it. I'm just crabby. Hormones.’ He grinned. ‘I'm not lazy. I am queer, though.’

She laughed with relief and collapsed onto the couch. Nicky bounced onto the cushion next to her and picked up the TV remote.

Ellen fell asleep halfway through the film, her cheek against Nicky's shoulder. She woke to the enchanting aroma of coffee and hazelnut; one of Nicky's specials. She washed dishes in the sink while he pumped his weights up and down. It was a performance, without the usual boom of his beatbox, and just for her benefit. Sweat trickled down his face and his biceps bulged as he flexed his muscles. She never asked for anything more from him and he never expected anything in return, other than perhaps a spot of cleaning. Both of them would be embarrassed if they tried to made a thing of it. So sad, and frustrating: her first love was unattainable.

He wiped his face with a towel. ‘I'm meeting somebody,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I should freshen up.’

‘Not here?’ She had done a reasonable job of cleaning his kitchen.

‘No.’ His cheeks glowed brighter.

Nicky's other life, the one he had before he had moved into the block, was as off topic as her own. He mentioned a rough time with gangs and drugs. He had broken free and maintained a squeaky clean lifestyle of exercise and diets. The fringe of this new life bled into the old one. If he had hinted at anything it was the bikers, or his brother, Jed. Jed Redder, the name made her laugh. Nicky hadn't laughed with her – the brothers didn’t share the same father.

She had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss one of those flushed cheeks. Goodbye kisses on the lips were out-of-bounds.

Trooping downstairs, she leaned on the door of her flat to shut it. The room felt icy. Soulless. She had always planned to share a flat with some chirpy girl, but she hadn’t met one yet. London seemed to lack what she sought. It was a huge disappointment. The negative vibes festered and grew with each passing week.

She checked her messages. Mark still hadn't called, but Freddie had replied.

You should feel proud of yourself.

There it was, as expected,