Chapter 10: 9

Jahseh can feel his stomach knead itself as the lift begins its ascent to the building's highest floor. His posture tilts, back to the steriled mirror, shoulders sunken with fatigue. The space reeks of the pungency of bleach and such, but in contrast to the fumes his colleagues spend all day wrenching up in every corner of the garage, Jahseh clothes himself with gratitude for it, rather than displeasure. The cloaked mechanics of the lift are next to silent, but the peal of his phone's dial tone rive the quiet every five seconds or so, until in time, the call connects and Sullivan's offhand greeting resounds.

"Yo."

Jahseh fixes his eyes upon the pixelated screen above the sealed doors, where the seven-segment display flips its 4 into a 5, "Warg. Come open the door, I'm outside."

"I'm not there."

"Bruv." A hiss seeps from Jahseh's kissed teeth. The irksome realisation he'd journeyed a sapping 45 minutes from his home to his brother's, and to no avail, sours his mood that much further. "You couldn't text me, nah? Why'd you tell me to come and you ain't even there?"

"Oi, take your tampon out. I told you to come through an hour ago. You're lucky I thought to leave it with Eve."

The crumbs of his patience that remain splinter to oblivion, "You what?"

"I text her when it delivered, she said she'd pick it up for me. Just knock on her door."

"Fuck that. Give it to me tomorrow," Jahseh stabs his folded finger into the unlit G that foots the list of buttons beside the doors. He'd spent all day brewing in anticipation for his parcel, and then came to realise he'd ordered it to his brother's crib instead of his own. Now, as the lift surges from the seventh floor to the eighth, he's blushed to think his uncanny excitement is on a sudden by reason of something—or one—else entirely. He ignores the riveting spur of his heartbeat, and quells that ill-matched zest with his focus now rerouted to the button he'd pressed.

He busies himself with the inevitable descent back to the ground floor, rather than the hopes of an encounter with Eve, who he's come to accept is inescapable. She may as well be everywhere—even when she's not around, she's still around. He still ponders her when he thinks too hard, still smells her when he breathes too deeply, still hears her when he listens too close. He'd grown jarred by his pining, particularly by his incapacity to explain it. All he knows, is that he's had enough.

He doesn't know whether or not he likes her, only that he doesn't want to find out. Jahseh wants her out of sight, and—God willing—well out of his mind. He wouldn't dare wend his way from his spot in the slowing lift to Eve's front door. He couldn't confront her, not again.

"Are you a girl? Just collect your shit and cut. She ain't gonna bite you... Unless you're into all that, I don't fucking know."

"Fuck off, now."

The call disconnects in chorus with the lift's softened standstill. Jahseh casts a brisk glance upwards and then back to his phone, but double-takes at the empty hallway. Only, it's not empty at all. As if for cupid's amusment alone, its emptiness is plagued by Eve, more of Eve than he'd ever seen before. He eyes a pair of legs, sheened skin and bare of fabric. He trails its heights, past exposed shins and exposed thighs. Up to the hem of an oversized tee, that drapes just below the crease of her—

Jahseh sticks his arm out, as the doors threaten a close.

Before his mind can even attempt to challenge his auto-piloted lure to the woman, it's wrestled and swiftly subdued. His own legs carry him down the short hall, past its naked walls and along its prim carpet. It takes Eve a second to notice his approach, but when she does, she burns and grimaces in heart-failing embarrassment like a sun-dried tomato.

Jahseh's gaze switches from her sock clad feet, to her unveiled legs, to the shirt that—favourably for the both of them—drapes over her upper body, and then the bun tossed atop her head. He's quick to notice her skin in its natural state, and then the star-shaped pimple patch tacked just above the corner of her mouth. He frowns as he stops before her, despite the warmth that becomes him at the sight of her gleaming legs.

"Why you naked?"

Eve's mouth falls open and then shut, her all too there self-awareness derails her train of thoughts. Jahseh's tedium offers no comfort, "You—I'm not naked."

Jahseh looks to her legs, and back up to her face, "Where's your trousers?"

"Inside my flat," Eve says, she gestures towards her door with a glance thrown over her shoulder, but keeps her hands cuffed behind her back as she leans against it.

"Surely you ought to put some on before you step anywhere," Jahseh says, simple yet snarky as ever. Again, his gaze drifts to her legs. She crosses one over the other, her attempts to secrete her state of undress only rattle him that much more.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm just... I locked myself out," Eve mutters. She doesn't bother to check for his reaction, she knows the muted scolding is there and waiting. Jahseh stares about the two of them, frowning.

"Where's my parcel?"

"... Inside my flat."

Jahseh presses his eyes firmly shut and lets his head fall back. He silently revels in his frustration for a minute, unbeknownst to Eve's gaze a-wander. The darkened aura that haloes around him so tangibly fills the hall, accentuated by his blacked out fit and the medley of tattoos branded across the lengths of his arms and his neck. She eyes his Adam's apple, and then the curve of the muscles that arch between his neck and his shoulders, and then the angles of his jawline, all the more sharper with the tilt of his head. She wants to ask for his number.

He, in all honesty, wants to ask if she's autistic.

Eve lets another moment pass, before she decides the silence between them is almost as insufferable as their unendingly awkward dialogue, "Thanks for that lift, by the way. I appreciate it."

"You're alright."

Eve conceals her grimace with a nod, and despite his clear disinterest in conversation, continues on, "I found my car keys, as well."

"Yeah?" Jahseh mutters. He shuffles backwards, till his back is pressed against his brother's door. His gaze is fixed to the ceiling, several feet above Eve's impatient longing for his attention.

"Yeah. Stuck them with my house keys so I wouldn't lose them again."

"How's that working out for you?"

Eve takes his dismissiveness for what it is, and calls it a day. Jahseh is torn between his thankfulness at the fact and this ghostly feeling of loss at it. Truly, he knows the less she gives him to miss, to sit in his house and hanker after, the better.

Yet even in their silence, her voice rings in his ears like a never-ending echo. The longer they stand, the more fragrant the bouquet of her intoxicating scent. Jahseh wrinkles his nose, taunted by his regretful emergence from the lift in the first place—he wants out of there, before his unapproachable facade can pull the floor from beneath him. "Why don't you have a spare key?"

Eve frowns, and then her eyes eureka in size, "Oh!"  She steps forward, Jahseh's forearm pins and needles in an instant as Eve cages it in her grasp and urges him out of her way. She pulls back Sullivan's doormat to reveal a matte key card. He watches on as she tucks downwards, then several seconds tick by while the card skids and scooches against the floor, everywhere but into her grasp. Eve huffs, as does Jahseh. Then he himself drops down, snatches the key off the floor and pulls himself back to his full height.

"Thank you," Eve mutters. Her bun swings as she pirouettes towards her door. She ventures inside the flat, Jahseh anchors himself to his spot. She reappears moments later, his Amazon parcel stashed under her arm and a leaflet in tow. "Uh... I'm having an open day at my... At The Link, where I work. If you wanna come. I want you to come, you can come with Sul and Morgs, because they're coming too. If you want to come."

She flattens the leaflet against his package, and then outstretches it to him. He stares at it like it has two eyes and a nose, hesitates, and then takes it.

"Thank you, again. For the lift, and for helping me with my car. And for this, I guess."

Jahseh nods.

Eve smiles, and then lets her door pivot shut. He hovers, until the electric shift of the latch sounds. Her footsteps patter further and quieter at once, he fights the urge to press his forehead against it and melt right through its fibres. Instead, he opts to take the place she'd once stood. Reposed against the door, he inhales her wavering scent, and exhales a flurry of caged compliments, awestruck endearments and that insatiable urge to know her.

Minimal effort, but hey-ho! I was meant to publish something on Monday and then do seven daily updates but Favourite Cream beat me down, ngl.

I like that she's slow, funny to write. He's had enough though, #lol.

She's invited him to an event, counting this as a W and a date since he's being such a pussy.

Not much progression or anything here, but thoughts and feelings, pleeeease!

See ya lataaa!