Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

This wasn’t just another kiss. She’d kissed enough horny underclassmen to know the difference. Lust was hands up your shirt and tongues down your throat. Simon caressed her, held her. It had been more than the twenty year difference in experience. It was passion, tempered. But tempered with what?
    He could have stopped it before it started, if it was such a big mistake. But he didn’t. He kissed her back. He wanted to kiss her. He felt something. She was sure of it. So what the hell was he doing pushing her away? What was he running from? Was the mighty Simon Cross afraid?
    She let out a long sigh and moved back to the sink. She turned the taps and let the water rush over her hands. The cold against her face made her gasp, but she wasn’t going to be red-faced and puffy-eyed if she could help it. Rivulets of water ran down her chin, and she rubbed them into her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror again, when a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
    “Eliz— Miss West?” Simon’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you... Is everything all right in there?”
    She stared into her reflection and felt a new heat rising in her. Anger. It was a damn sight better than the abject humiliation of a few minutes ago. If he wanted to be a repressed schmuck, he could do it on his own damn time. You don’t make someone feel something and then pull the rug out from under them. You just don’t do it.
    Her T-shirt was hanging on the thin clothesline over the tub. Thank God she’d done laundry earlier and didn’t have to go back into the room to get her clothes. She wasn’t about to wear the top of their matching set of pajamas. Shrugging off her dress, she pulled the tiny shirt over her head. The hem fell slightly above her panties and she started to tug it down, but the hell with it. What did it matter now anyway? She grabbed a towel and dried her face. Taking one more steeling breath, she opened the door.
    Simon took a step back and shifted nervously.
    She glared at him for a moment until he had the good sense to look away. She walked over to the bed and pulled the coverlet down on her side. It was probably foolish to even ask why, but she couldn’t help herself. And maybe in the asking she could find a little bit of control.
    “There’s only one thing I want to know,” she said, as she turned to face him. “What are you so afraid of?”
    Simon frowned and shook his head. “I... I’m sorry.”
    “You’re sorry?” She waited for more, but he just looked at her with those shuttered eyes. That was all he had to say? She tensed her jaw and fought the urge to shake him. He could barely look at her. He should at least have the decency to look her in the eye. A screaming match would have been better than the defeat, the complete lack of anything. Was he that shut down? Maybe it all wasn’t a façade. Maybe he really was a cold-hearted bastard.
    They stood in an awkward silence for a painfully long moment before she shook her head with undisguised pity.
    “Fine. You be sorry. You can do whatever the hell you want. I’m going to bed.”
    * * *
    Simon turned the corner onto Mulberry street, already planning his next move. If she wasn’t there, he’d try Saint Patrick’s then go back uptown and retrace their steps from earlier in the week.
    Damn that woman.
    The last thing he’d wanted was the one thing he’d gotten. She’d been gone that morning when he woke up. No note, nothing, except an empty bed. It was just like her. To rush off to God knows where.
    He rolled his neck, trying to work out the kinks. A night in the little wooden chair had done little to help his mood. Now, his body was twisted in the same knots as his heart.
    He went from store to store, pushing his way through the crowd. She had to be here. This was the sort of place she’d seek. Get that canoli she’d talked incessantly about. Pastry shop after pastry shop and still no Elizabeth.
    Could he have made a bigger cockup of the situation? He’d behaved like a fool. He should never have let things get as far as they had. Never should have given in for one moment of perfection. One blissful moment when everything else faded away, except the feeling of her in his arms.
    Damn her. She should have, at the very least, had the decency to tell him where she was going. She could be anywhere in the city. Anything could be happening to her.
    With a force of will, he pushed that thought aside and continued through the crowd.