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eyes because I sort of knew the feeling. My hormones were up and
doing the samba through my bloodstream. I felt my panties dampen at his mere
proximity.
    “I want you London, you’re beautiful and you treat me better
than any woman has ever treated me before. You haven’t asked me for anything
except basic respect which I haven’t been able to give you and that makes me a
real dick. You deserve better than the likes of me…” he bowed his head and
raked his hands through his hair.
    “I need to sort my shit out.” He sad at last and backed away
from me.
    “Yes. You do.” I agreed and started down the stairs,
stopping midway down the flight. That was a shitty way to leave things, even if
I was hurt or confused by him… I had to be better than this and so I spoke:
    “I’m still here if you need me Evan.” I said it quietly but
I know he heard me by the sharp intake of breath.
    “London…” he said but I finished my decent and took the next
flight twice as fast, bursting out into the courtyard.
    “Son of a bitch…” I heard him curse from the second floor
open landing. I didn’t turn back. He’d hurt my feelings by ignoring me but to
some degree I understood. I was still here. I wasn’t going to give up. Neither
was I going to be a doormat though… Was I?
    What a fucking mess… Here’s to hoping that things would have
a way of straightening themselves out with minimal emotional wreckage.
     
    ~*~
    The next afternoon I was at my computer retouching photos
for a project when I heard the pounding start. A masculine voice was calling
out to someone and I rolled my eyes.
    I was staring at the first photo I had ever taken of Evan.
He was on the landing, and I was carefully adding color to the black and white
image, using the color photos of him in my bed for reference. Coloring just his
tattoos. The pounding was becoming relentless and obnoxious until finally I
couldn’t take it anymore.
    I threw down my stylus onto my desk and went out my door.
    “Come on!!” a man called from upstairs and began his
hammering again.  I looked up and blinked, he was pounding on Evan’s door and
after over a month of him living here was the first person I’d ever seen
besides the blonde.
    He was dressed in leather pants and a leather jacket.
Flannel red and black checkered shirt peeking out from below the worn biker
jacket which had metal pyramid studs on the shoulders and along the lower back
panel. He kicked the door with a heavy booted foot and I jumped.
    “Evan’s not home.” I called and he turned. He was bald but
young. His light colored eyebrows shot up and a slow grin spread along his lips
as his gaze wandered from my head to my feet and back again.
    “What’d you say sweetheart?”
    “I said Evan isn’t home. He went out last night and hasn’t
come back yet.” I swallowed.
    “Evan…” he said, “Right…” and I frowned.
    “If I see him, who shall I say is calling?” I said. The man
laughed.
    “Well that would be awfully nice of you sweet heart, what’s
your name?” he leaned against the railing and looked down at me. His eyes were
blue and twinkled with laughter. I got the vague impression he was making fun
of me or trying to flirt and I frowned.
    “I’m London.” I said, “And you are?”
    “Hal. Nice to meet you London.” He came down the stairs and
stuck out his hand. I shook it and he let it go. I took a step back towards my
open apartment door.
    “You know… Evan… well?” he asked.
    “Met him the night he moved in.” I said, pursing my lips.
    “He’s a good guy.” Hal said.
    “Yes he is.” I murmured, keeping the for the most part I wanted to add on silent.
    “You talk?” he asked.
    “I’m not sure how that’s any business of yours Hal.” I
smiled but it wasn’t friendly. He put up his hands and took a step back.
    “Easy there tiger.” He said and smiled, and mine softened
marginally.
    “I’m…Evan’s… bandmate. Drummer.” He stumbled over Evan’s
name