by Wendy Owens
“Yeah, hi!” I exclaimed making it clear I did in fact recognize him. What was his name?
“So—is this yours?” he asked extending a hand with my work.
“Yes, thank you so much. I had a little mishap when I got here, and the wind must have carried it away.”
“Well, you don’t want to lose such a masterpiece.”
Damn it, he was hot and nice. Just ask him. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t remember your name.”
“Really?” he asked and then laughed.
“Is that funny?” I was confused by his reaction.
“Kind of, since I have a name people tend not to forget. I was teased a lot growing up, and I’m just surprised you could forget it.” First, I had trouble believing anyone could make fun of him, and second, I felt even worse I had forgotten his name now.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. William Stryker.” That was it! Now I remembered. He motioned toward the blanket, clearly wanting to take a seat. “May I?”
I hesitated. I had no idea who this man was and wasn’t sure if I felt comfortable cozying up to a perfect stranger.
“Unless you’re already waiting for someone else, of course,” he added, sensing my edginess.
“No, of course not, have a seat,” I replied. Calm down. It’s no big deal, he’s just a nice guy and you’re only having a conversation with him. Stop being such a spaz, I told myself.
“Didn’t you say you were working for the school? Are you a professor or something?” I made a feeble attempt at small talk.
“No, no—” he began, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. I’m doing some consulting work.”
“Oh really? What kind of consulting work does a school need?” I questioned, truly interested in what he had to say.
He didn’t answer right away, and looking around the park, I wondered if perhaps his work was sensitive in some way. Then looking back at me, he explained, “Sometimes they hire people, and before they give out certain positions they want to make sure that they are hiring someone who won’t have—oh, how do I say this gently, any skeletons in their closets.”
“You’re a cop? No way!” I cried out in disbelief.
“Oh hell no, nothing like that. Let’s just say, I’m really good at research. What about you? Are you a freshman?” he asked.
It was obvious I wasn’t an eighteen year old girl anymore, so for him to ask if I were a freshman, I was certain he was trying to flatter me. The compliment unnerved me and exhilarated me at the same time. It had been so long since a man noticed me, and even though I wasn’t seeking it, the bigger problem was I didn’t know how to react to the attention.
“Nice one,” I laughed.
“What? I’m serious? Are you a student there?”
“Yeah, I’m a transfer student. I’m finishing up my studios there so I can graduate,” I explained, surprised by how good it made me feel to say those words.
“Based on what I’ve seen, you’re very talented.” He was laying it on thick, never shifting his eyes from me. I had always been self conscious of the way my face was so round. It never seemed to matter if I thinned out… my face was always thick. My mom used to call it baby fat, which only made it worse. He didn’t seem to notice, his gaze never shifting from my blue eyes no matter how much I avoided looking at his.
“That’s very kind of you to say, thank you, and also very hard to determine from a sketch of a fruit bowl.”
“It’s the best damn fruit bowl I’ve ever seen,” he said, leaning forward and flashing his broad white smile.
“I’m already beginning to see that I’m behind other students. I think doing my courses through correspondence made it harder on me. I just don’t have the same hands on and critiquing experience some of the other students have had.”
“You can’t tell,” he insisted, reaching over and lifting a couple pages into my sketchbook, revealing the hidden images. “These really are fantastic. What were you working on before I so rudely interrupted?”
“You weren’t rude.” I giggled as I replied, and I wondered who the hell had taken over my body. “After all, you rescued my fruit bowl.”
“That I did. But you didn’t answer me. What were you working on?” He rested himself on one arm, lying on his side with his legs crossed as he stared up at me. I watched as he licked his lips, and I struggled to think of what to say next.
“Nothing!” I shouted, excited to remember any word in the English language. He smiled at me; he must have thought I was a mad woman. “I mean, I hadn’t decided what to draw yet. We’re supposed to pick something in motion that we find in real life.”
“Hmm…” he hummed, sitting up, brows furrowed, clearly deep in thought about my assignment.
“What?” I probed, truly curious about the idea he obviously consumed by.
“How about this?” Stryker asked, hopping to his feet. He proceeded to extend his arms outward. One fingertip jerked, and he proceeded to perform an arm wave that rippled through his body.
I burst out laughing, looking all around us to see who was watching. There were a few onlookers, but Stryker didn’t seem to care. He didn’t take his eyes off me. He just continued staring at me, wiggling his body around wildly for me.
“That’s perfect!” I squealed, quickly placing pencil to paper and capturing the fluid movement.
“What I won’t do for art. But you have to credit me as your muse,” he added, laughing.
I don’t know why I let him sit, and I certainly don’t know why I ended up drawing fifteen sketches of him that day. He was handsome, that was for certain. I knew I didn’t want to start dating anyone. Love was not in the plans for this phase of my life.
I also don’t know why I said yes when he asked me if I wanted to have dinner, but I did. After he left me there, in the park, I realized I had been smiling so long my face was hurting. But the fact that I didn’t know why I said yes to all of these things didn’t change the fact that I had agreed to have dinner with him that very night. He would be picking me up at the apartment in a matter of hours.
Chapter Seven
What the hell are you doing, girl? I stared in the mirror, repeatedly asking myself that question. Thanks to a lot of hair product, I had managed to tame my frizzy, dirty blonde mess into oversized, gentle curls. Leaning forward I checked for any stray, unruly eyebrow hairs that might need plucked. One last touch up of blush and an additional layer of mascara should be enough. As I applied the makeup the thought rushes through my head again: What the hell are you doing?
When I left Indiana I swore to myself I wouldn’t lose focus. I was determined I would keep my head down, make it through the year, and get my ass back home. I was here to experience things, as long as it didn’t include men. Countless museums and parks were on my list of must-sees. Dating was for certain on my list of don’ts. Ashton had been my first real boyfriend, my first kiss, my first everything. A first love that ends in such tragedy can only mean one thing: I was not cut out for love. Yet, here I was.
I made the mistake of telling Paige I had a date, and since that moment she was like a dog with a bone. She wanted to know everything about him, although I didn’t have much to tell her—only what we had discussed that day in the park. It didn’t take long for her attention to shift to my evening’s wardrobe choice. She was less than impressed by the sundress I had chosen. Instead, she pulled a little black number out of her closet for me.
I was certain my size ten curves were not going to fit into anything she had in her size two closet, but leave it to Paige—she found the one dress I could squeeze into. The black spandex gave in all the places it needed to in order to fit my frame. I wasn’t as convinced as Paige when I put it on. I believe her exact words were ‘smoking hot.’ All I could see when I looked in the mirror was cleavage and a bubble butt. After Paige left to meet Christian I seriously considered changing back into my own clothes. A part of me resisted; I should really find that part and strangle it.
I w
alked out of my bathroom and into my small, but well organized bedroom, slipping on the one pair of heels I had brought with me from Indiana: a simple and plain pair of matte black stilettos. High heels were something I considered having a love/hate relationship with. They made my long legs look amazing, lengthening my calves and making them appear athletic. They also made my feet ache, and I usually had a two-hour time limit on actually wearing them. However, they were the only shoes that did the dress Paige lent me justice.
Lipstick and I’m ready. My mother had taught me when I was just a girl to always apply lipstick last to keep it looking fresh as long as you can. Grabbing the tube, I stepped in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Seeing myself completely put together I had mixed thoughts. On one hand, I thought I did look pretty amazing. In fact, I wasn’t sure if my breasts had ever looked better. On the other hand, I worried I looked too sexy. Maybe I was sending William the wrong message. Hell, I wasn’t even sure at this point what message I wanted to be sending.
I knew I missed being touched. I looked at other couples, the way they touched, and kissed—the most basic level of interaction—and I missed it. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself not to miss it, I did. I wanted it again, and I also wished I didn’t want it. It was too hard, too complicated, too messy. In that moment I wished I were that type of girl. A girl who could seek out pleasure from a man and it not mean love. I wanted to be a girl who could have a one night stand, quench that fire and move on with my life with no complications.
Twisting up the tube I watched as the blush-colored lipstick rose from its hiding place. Applying the color to my top lip, I was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. I finished, pressing my lips together firmly, flattened out the dress over my abdominal area, and with a deep huff I turned to welcome my date. God, what the hell are you doing, girl?
Initially I struggled to walk in the heels, but after a few steps my legs remembered how to accommodate the shoes. Walking through the kitchen, I turned the doorknob slowly, my heart beginning to race. Pulling it open, my heart fluttered as I saw Colin Bennett standing there. His arm was perched above him on the doorframe, his head hanging down. He raised an eyebrow as he drank me in, one side of his mouth lifted into a sinister smile.
Damn it! Why did he have to look so damn sexy when he was being so dirty? I knew exactly what he was thinking as he was looking at me. He must have had plans; well, he was wearing a black button up shirt, only the top button undone, a lean cut charcoal gray blazer over it, hugging close to his body. My eyes moved down to his black slacks and vintage suede leather shoes. His hair was pushed back, a few wild strands hanging in his eyes. I felt an ache deep within me, which only made me want to slap him, even though I knew it wasn’t his fault I was starting to lose control of my body.
“What do you want?” I asked, turning and walking away, leaving the door hanging open. I knew if I looked at him standing there any longer I might lose it. Why did he have to look so good? I suppose the jerks always did.
“Damn,” he whispered softly, not moving from his perch. I couldn’t help but smile as I continued moving away from him. I was glad I had garnered that sort of reaction; at least the dress was doing its job. I just hoped it would do the same for William.
“Do you need something?” I asked looking over my shoulder, making sure he didn’t see his response pleased me.
Colin pulled his arm down, and following me into the apartment, he closed the door behind him. I grabbed my clutch from the couch and dropped the tube of lipstick in, turning and looking back at him for some sort of answer to my question. He was still staring at me intensely, like an animal that wanted to devour its prey.
“Christian told me to meet him here,” Colin explained at last.
“What? No, that can’t be right. Paige already left to meet up with him. They were going to some party, I think,” I enlightened him.
“I know, apparently it was lame. He called and told me to meet him here. We’re going to The Half King instead. I’d invite you, but it appears you already have a wild night planned for yourself.” He smiled mischievously, and I could tell exactly what he was insinuating.
“Well, they’re not here,” I replied, refusing to give his last comment any sort of acknowledgment. Time was ticking by quickly, and I wanted to get Colin out of the apartment before William showed up. The last thing I needed to explain was why he was at my place.
“So, ‘not-interested-in-dating-right-now,’ where are you going dressed up like that?” he inquired, making himself comfortable in the oversized chair near the window. I couldn’t believe he actually had the nerve to ask me that, and even worse, to throw my own words back up in my face. A week ago I had no intention of dating anyone. Hell, right now I had no intention of dating anyone. I wasn’t about to tell him I was horny and a hot guy asked me out so I caved. I thought I sounded like a slut for just thinking it.
“I don’t really think it’s any of your business where I’m going.” I nervously looked back at the door; I needed to figure out how to get him out.
“I suppose not, but I think it’s obvious by the way you look you’re going on a date. The question is, why lie to me about not wanting to date right now?” Colin pushed; the line of questioning was clearly a thrill for him.
“It’s dinner, not that big a deal.” I dismissed his statement, not allowing him to see how much he was getting under my skin.
“Well, you look amazing, Em,” Colin complimented in a deep and irresistible voice. I couldn’t stop staring at his beard—it always seemed to be kept at the perfect length of slight stubble. I was certain it was smooth enough to not irritate you when you kissed, but long enough to accentuate his strong jawline. Damn it Clementine! Quit thinking like that!
“Thanks. But like I said, they’re not here, so I guess you should head home and try calling him perhaps,” I urged, desperate for him to leave.
“I’m fine. I’ll just wait here for them… if you don’t mind. You can keep me company,” Colin replied, looking me up and down again.
“Actually—” I began, but then was interrupted.
“Oh, wait, I get it. You don’t want me here when your date gets here,” Colin said, clasping his fingers together, watching me intensely from the chair. “What is it? Is he ugly? No wait, he’s old… like really old, right?”
“Excuse me?” I growled as he laughed, trying not to laugh myself.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Colin leaned forward, still laughing. “You’re into the geriatric dudes aren’t you?”
“No!” I exclaimed, chuckling slightly. “He’s actually very hot.”
Why are you talking to him? I asked myself. He’s just playing you. It’s what he does. Closing my eyes for a moment I took a deep breath, focusing on the task before me: getting Colin the hell out of my place before William showed up.
“Sweetheart, I was just playing around. I’m sure he’s a great guy.” Colin smiled as he attempted to soften the blow of his earlier teasing. I didn’t have time to respond, because in the next moment there was a knock at the door.
It was too late. I had run out of time. I turned away from Colin to answer it. I needed to think quickly. I would open the door and slip out so there would be no time for William and Colin to meet. Pulling back my shoulders, I pushed the air from my lungs, opening the door. As I did, I heard Colin’s voice… directly behind me.
“Don’t worry, he’ll think you look as hot as I do.” He was standing so close I could feel his breath on my neck. What the hell? Was he some sort of stealthy vampire? How in the heck did he sneak up on me so quickly? It was too late now; the door was already open. My jaw had dropped, my mouth hanging open from Colin’s comment.
William stood there looking at me with flowers in his hand. They were a beautiful array of wild flowers, but I could say nothing, only look back at him, expressionless. Colin was directly behind me—his breath still finding its way to my bare back.
“
Hi,” Colin greeted him, reaching past me and extending a hand to my date. “I’m Colin Bennett. You must be the date.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. He was really doing this, and I was just standing there like an idiot, letting him.
William hesitated for a moment, obviously puzzled, a nervous half smile emerging. At last he freed a hand, and the two locked in a shake. “Yes, I suppose I am the date. Name is Stryker, William Stryker.”
As he pulled his hand back, Colin burst out into a robust laughter before asking, “Like Bond? James Bond? Sorry, friend, I don’t mean anything, that’s just, well—that’s quite a name.”
William looked annoyed. I remembered when we were at the park, and how he mentioned he had been made fun of for his name while growing up. Leave it to Colin to alienate a guy in the first thirty seconds of meeting him. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
With an elbow to Colin’s ribs, I managed to block any answer from him as he gasped in response. Any reply he had would probably be dripping with sarcasm and only create an uncomfortable evening for William and I. “Nobody important. Tell Paige I’ll be back late.”
I grabbed the flowers with a smile, remarking how beautiful they were and what a thoughtful gesture it was. Shoving them into Colin’s hands, I slipped through the door and pulled it closed behind me.
As we walked down the stairs, I knew what was coming. There was no way any guy would let slide what just happened. There would be questions.
“Who was that?” he asked. And there it was. I had expected to make it out onto the sidewalk before the questions began, however, William clearly was one not to beat around the bush.
“My landlord,” I answered plainly, as if it were quite inconsequential to me. Yes, he was a super hot landlord, and he also made me want to strangle him sometimes, but William didn’t ask me those questions.
William shook his head as he followed me out into the night. “Wait, what? Does he live with you?”
I knew I would not be able to avoid the questions with a dismissive attitude and decided if I wanted any chance at a fun evening I would need to clear the air quickly. I stopped and turned to look at him.
