Eleven ~ Evelyn

Adrian is too deep in conversation to be easily enlightened without drawing attention.

With one last glance at the nosey photographer to check wether he had moved, I slip from the barstool.

I find a path to the toilets that enables me to present the camera with only my back.

Weaving through the crowd, I keep a causal pace.

The heavy door swings shut behind me.

I swiftly duck into the most isolated stall.

F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!

Now what?

I hadn't even considered someone would try to photograph him.

Dumbass!

I slam the wooden toilet lid down and slump onto it.

If someone from work sees those photos I'll be done for.

My conditional offer of employment could be withdrawn.

Then what do I do? Who would take on a newly qualified practitioner that's been reprimanded before even qualifying?

Sh*t!

How could I risk my whole career and the last three years for someone who may only last a few dates?

He makes me feel so warm and safe, but what if it's all just a charming act?

My chest constricts at the thought.

Shoving the idea out from suppressed depths that he's probably not looking for a serious relationship is like swallowing a boulder.

How could I be so naive?

Fairy tales are to only be dangled constantly out of reach.

I have a real life to protect.

I fold, my head spiralling in my hands.

I push uneven breathes through a vice. Forcing myself through a losing battle.

My chest burns with each rattling thump.

I bite my lip at the acceptance that I have to leave.

I focus on the pain and try to breath in time with counting to five.

Nauseous, I close my eyes. Swimming around numbers in a sea of darkness.

Eventually I managed to align all of the numbers and pull myself back to a reasonable state.

I stand, swaying slightly before walking to a sink. I check I don't look as crazy as I feel and brace myself in preparation to face him.

With a lengthy breath, I head outside.

I don't get far before colliding with a unyielding mass.

Large hands gripped my upper arms, faintly trembling from panic attack residue.

"Are you okay?" Adrian assesses me with worried eyes, "I'm sorry I didn't manage to get away sooner."

I wanted to collapse into his warm embrace and let the world fall away. But, I couldn't let my life disintegrate.

"Someone was taking pictures…"

Immediately Ade takes us to a more secluded part of the bar. Tucked behind a large bookcase filled with trinkets.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this. It's too risky." I stutter, avoiding his gaze.

"What do you mean? We can go to more private places?" His rich voice is stilted.

"If someone from work finds out I'm done. I can't live constantly looking over my shoulder." Adrian's face falls with every word, striking my chest in turn.

"No, there must be another way!"

I shake my head, resigned to my decision. "I really am sorry. I had the most amazing time with you, but I can't lose my career."

He reaches for my hand but I step anyway. A cold chill runs through me.

"I have to go." I don't wait for a response, I don't even look back until I've walked halfway to the tube station with large strides.

If I did, I would have faltered and run back into the safety of his warm arms.

Instead I have a rabbit thumping in my chest and the cold is biting at my ankles.

The cloakroom hadn't crossed my mind during my escape. I'll call them tomorrow, there's no turning back now.

Luckily, I keep my cards in the back of my phone case.

The warmth of the tube does little to soothe me as I ponder over my decision.

My last relationship had lasted two years before imploding on the New Year's day before I started university.

I was young and ignorant. If anyone treated me that way now I'd be running instantly in the opposite direction.

He was my first but it wasn't dreamy. He had pressured me massively into having sex. It was excruciatingly painful.

Unfortunately, with time it didn't improve. Afterwards, he used to joke that I looked like I was going to pass out. But he never stopped.

I thought I was broken and sex became a chore that I had to fulfil to avoid his wrath.

After eighteen months I stopped biting my tongue and starting turning down sex. So, he started getting it elsewhere.

On New Years Eve, he held a party. We went to bed together but I woke up after a couple of hours to pee and found him sleeping on the floor, wrapped around another girl.

I took my stuff and left, completely crushed.

He messaged me several days later on my eighteenth birthday to threaten to leak the nudes he had taken of me whilst I slept.

I don't know if he ever did.

It took a while to find myself again after that, and I haven't been with anyone since.

But being with Adrian was so…healing.

Not once did he make me feel lesser or threatened. Just warm.

But I had to walk away.

I choose to sit at the back corner of the bus after wondering eyes churned my stomach on the tube.

I'm more than ready to escape into the realm of dreams.

Much to my bitter-sweet pleasure, I awoke having dreamt of nothing but him for the fifth night in a row.

It's been challenging to shake the image of his sculpted body, adorable dimples and serene eyes from my head. But, I can't remain hung up over him.

I'm trying to distract myself however I can. Extra shifts where my mentor is willing and my literature review on my days off.

But as I'm sitting here, wedged between cushions, I can't get past a sentence without needing to reread it for the thousandth time.

A text from Heidi gives me an easy out.

The message is a bunch of excited ramblings with a link to a news article. I click on it hurriedly when I realise what it might be.