Cross the Line

Part Four

Chapter four

It was gone two am when Naomi finally got home, and it was half past ten the next morning when she was woken by an unrelenting rap on her front door. Dazed, combing her bed hair with her fingers as she yawned, she dragged her unruly self to the door.

Her heart stopped for a moment when she came face to face with a very drawn pale looking Conor.  She instantly regretted not removing her make up the night before, she could feel the mascara crusty on her eyelashes, and wished she’d worn her new pyjamas instead of the tatty old vest and short shorts, talk about revealing. Self consciously she tried to tug the fabric further down her legs as she looked up at him. There was seeing your nemesis when you were at your best and feeling a million dollars, and there was being caught unaware and feeling like death.

Conor couldn’t take his eyes off her. Over the two weeks that he had known her, he’d been searching for her vulnerability, she was always strong, almost aggressive, yet he had the constant feeling that he needed to protect her, look after her, but until now he’d not seen a single reason why. As he looked down at her forlorn, tired face, unruly hair and skimpy pyjamas, he felt a strong desire to scoop her up and keep her safe. All animosity and anger towards her had long gone.

                “I’m sorry about yesterday.” Naomi offered looking up at him.

He shook his head gently, dragging himself away from his rambling thoughts. “I think that was my line?”

She shrugged, “I shouldn’t have hit you. I was just very angry.” This was the opportunity to make things good, before they started work, just as Emma had suggested, so she gestured him into the apartment. “Come in. Do you want coffee?”

Conor shrugged, “I didn’t come here for coffee and small talk, I just wanted to apologise for being such a Neanderthal. I was out of order. I should never have accused you of that. Two and two in my head obviously made five, and I regret my actions. I know that doesn’t really come close to explaining or excusing...” he shrugged. “I’m useless at this...”

Offering a half smile, she gestured to the lounge, “Have a seat. I’m just going to go and put something more appropriate on.” The need to gain some protective armour was greater than a cheap snipe at this man.

                “Don’t worry on my account!” He offered with a little more enthusiasm than was appropriate, then he tried not to smile, he was more than happy to follow those infinitely long legs into the lounge, but didn’t want to create yet more animosity.

After a glare, and the quickest shower in history, Naomi found her newest jeans, a bright red square neck, sleeveless linen tunic, and a pair of low heeled sandals. He was glancing through her CD collection when she finally emerged from her bedroom feeling a little bit more in control.

Looking up Conor sighed, the facade was back. Once again she was hidden away, all angst and disgust for reasons that existed before he’d acted so ridiculously the previous day, that slight intimacy he’d felt when she’d been awkward and vulnerable in her scant pj’s had gone.

Sighing he offered, “Nice tunes, you’ve got good taste.”

She nodded without answering, instead standing with her hands on her hips in question.

Conor knew he had to speak first, “Are we going to let all this animosity get between us? We’ve got to work together Naomi. Like I say, I really am sorry for the presumptions I made yesterday, my actions were...well disgraceful. But since I’ve arrived here you’ve acted as though I’m the bloody Grim Reaper. Maybe I took your anger towards me as guilt...I don’t know...I don’t know why else you’d hate me so much.”