They drank in companionable silence, willing the answer to be at the bottom of their glasses and then at the bottom of the next, and the next... And so the night had dragged on. Few words exchanged, and the words that were spoken were slurred and senseless.
The bar was so full of people that whenever Connie glanced up to the mirror above Eliot's head she could no longer see the door.
"Looking for someone?"
He asked eventually, propping his head up on his hand so that his glasses stuck up at an odd angle, splitting his vision.
"Hmm?"
She barely knew whether or not she had her eyes open any more.
"You keep looking at that door."
Eliot sighed, and then suddenly he grinned as a thought occurred to him, and he sat up straight again, readjusting his glasses.
"Or is it my company?"
He had the kind of face that stopped women in their tracks. He must have been used to it, she presumed - the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by the overcompensation of a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile.
She shook her head. It was so warm in the bar, and growing warmer with every person who crowded into it. She glanced into the mirror again...people drinking, shouting, laughing. Hundreds of conversations were happening all at once. Men and women who looked older than they were, slumped on bar, pint glasses, shot glasses, someone crying in corner, couples in secluded bays, laughing, back slapping...
Something warm touched her fingers and she turned back to find Eliot's hand creeping over her own.
"You look like you could use some fresh air?"
He leant forwards in his seat so that he could be heard. She could smell the beer on his breath and the warmth of his body.
She touched a hand to her cheek, her skin was hot and flushed, she must look awful...
"I think you're probably right."
She murmured, stumbling over the correct pronunciation of 'probably' so many times that she had to settle for something near enough.
He retracted his hand from hers and, steadying himself, he eased himself up from the chair until he was standing.
Connie looked up at him. He was wearing a brown tweed suit jacket with patches at the elbows over dark blue jeans. She hadn't noticed his jacket until he stood up, and he began to button it. He didn't seem to have come with a coat.
"Let me help you..."
He offered out his hand to her, but almost immediately she declined.
"Oh no, I'm fine."
She said, making to stand, but all at once she felt the room lurch and sway and the blood surged, throbbing to the front of her head so that she had to sit back down and wait for the sudden feeling of nausea to pass.
She squinted up at him, and gingerly held out her hand, accepting his help. He eased her to her feet, slowly, slowly until she stood flush against him, his arms holding her steady.
"There you go."
He smiled slightly. This close to him she noticed the wild sea blue of his eyes - deep and catastrophic with flecks of silver.
"Thank you."
She whispered, and cleared her throat, and as they made their way from the table to the door he kept hold of her, easing her gently through the moving masses of people, keeping an elbow out to avoid the knocks and bumps. She paused as they passed the bar, a sickening wave of prickly white heat running all the way up from the base of her spine to the back of her neck. There was a movement, or perhaps it was a voice...something had made her feel as she had done that night so long ago...
Eliot pressed against her back.
"OK?"
He was shouting over the laughter of somebody else.
She barely dared to glance around to smile apologetically, but when she did, she saw only Eliot. But still there was the flicker of something in her peripheral vision, something, or somebody familiar, hiding in the shadows.
Eliot's weight against her made her move again as he was jostled from behind and found himself staggering forwards a few steps. She heard his murmured apology as they pushed against the double doors and found themselves outside.
She shivered violently, whether from the cold or from the sensation of being watched, she wasn't sure.
He placed an arm about her, holding her close, keeping her warm, and she found herself resting her head upon his shoulder.
"I'll get you a cab."
He was pushing his other hand into the pocket of his jeans to find his phone.
"No, no..."
She raised her head, glancing quickly to the alley way opposite.
"I don't want to go home."
She whispered, shuddering against the cold. It had stopped raining, but the clouds still hung low overhead, blotting out the stars completely.
Eliot shifted from one foot to the other.
"A hotel, or..."
He began, faltering when she swayed against him, frowning, glancing again to the alley way with a look behind her eyes that made him grow even colder.
"I live not far from here...on a boat, I live on a boat, you could-"
"Take me."
She said quietly, her eyes not quite leaving the hollowness of that alley way. She was scared of the dark, and of the creeping feeling of somebody behind her, who, no matter how quickly she turned around, was never there.
With stumbling, slow steps they walked, Eliot's warm arm holding her up. They walked across the edge of town, against the streaking white headlights, and the wind that whispered about their legs like the tail of a frolicking cat just waiting to trip you up when you least expect it.
-.-
xxx