by S R Watson
Asher, Ren, and Killian come into the kitchen and excitedly grab a plate.
“Chicken cacciatore. Hell, yes!” Asher fist bumps with Ren. “Hey, sis. Did you get to taste this masterpiece? It’s our favorite.”
“Yes. It’s quite good.” I giggle. “And I helped.”
“Well, it should be twice as good,” Asher jokes. Ren and Killian mumble in agreement with their mouths full. I can see the camaraderie among them. I rinse my plate and put it into the dishwasher before heading upstairs. I play around on my laptop for a bit, mostly looking to see what my old friends are up to on Facebook. The two-hour time difference from Los Angles is catching up with me. It isn’t long before I feel my eyes growing heavy. Maybe I’ll just take a small nap and then get up and plan what classes I’ll be registering for in a couple of weeks.
The sun shining brightly through my curtains is a clue that I missed the mark on a small nap. I sit up and feel around for my phone. It only has nine percent since I didn’t charge it last night. Damn, it’s almost eight. That was some nap. After plugging in my phone, I poke my head out the door but find the house completely silent. I wonder where the guys went this morning? I pull out a pair of Easy Rider sweatpants to wear with my combat boots and an extra-large plain black tee.
I bring it all to the bathroom along with some undergarments and set it down on the counter. I wash off yesterday’s makeup while the water in the shower gets hot. I step in, and the rain shower is heaven. I wash my hair and spend at least twenty minutes indulging in the warmth before finally showering and getting out. I’m toweling myself dry when Phoenix walks in unexpectedly. I have just enough time to back myself against the glass shower and cover my front with the small ass towel I had in my hand.
“What the fuccc—?” he asks, obviously startled by my presence. It’s deja vu in reverse.
“Get out, Phoenix!” I shout. He stands there, blinking as he looks me up and down.
“I can’t believe this is what was under all that heavy makeup and baggy clothes. Then again, I knew it.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. Please get out,” I beg. I’m near tears as he sees me in my most vulnerable state. It’s not my near nakedness, but the absence of my armor. The armor that keeps men from being attracted to me. I don’t want anybody to see me.
“Okay. Fine. We need to set up a bathroom schedule, though.” He backs out with his eyes on me the entire time. Once he is out, I run to the door and turn the lock on the door. This was my fault. I can’t believe I didn’t lock the fucking door. I’m living with four men.
I throw my clothes on in a flash. It would be my luck that the one person I didn’t want to see me without my armor is the one who did. The last thing I need is for him to coming sniffing my way. It’s not that I think I’m some catch, by any means, but guys always want the very thing they can’t have—the thrill of the chase. The women who clamor over him are way sexier than I could ever hope to be in my wildest dreams. Let him stick with those women in his league. I’m determined not to make this weird. After all, it was just like me walking in on him yesterday and gawking like a horny teenager. One good turn deserves another. I know he isn’t going to let this go, though. All I can do is put my face and armor back on, and act like I don’t give a rat’s ass about what he saw—which wasn’t much, body-wise.
When I walk out into the hall, the house is once again quiet. They’re obviously here somewhere, so I head downstairs to investigate. Just as I reach the bottom step to the first floor, the door across from me swings open. Ren walks past me to head upstairs. Asher didn’t get a chance to show me this room during the brief tour of the house he gave me because I was too infatuated with the second floor and the lake out back. I can clearly see now that they have the room set up as their makeshift studio.
My ears perk up at Phoenix’s rasp as he sings into the mic he’s holding. “You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours.” He sings the lyrics to Arctic Monkey’s, “I Wanna Be Yours,” and I swear he’s singing them to me. His stare pierces through me. Without all the noise of the women competing for his attention, I can focus strictly on his voice. The timbre of his voice is enthralling—so raw and captivating. He could sing the fucking Yellow Pages and get my attention. He closes his eyes as he gets lost in the lyrics, and I take this moment to stare. His body sways to the sexiness of the music. His denim jeans are snug against his muscular legs, and his black tank shows the work he puts in the gym. His chiseled chest begs to be caressed. God, this man makes me crazy. My thoughts are all over the damn place. I want to hold on to my comfort zone, yet he inspires all kinds of lustful thoughts. Not that I would act on any of them or even admit it to him, but damn he is insanely fucking sexy. I need to get my shit together. Nothing changes. Status quo. I don’t have time for men. I have goals, and men are not part of the plan. I will just ogle privately, but that is as far as I’m willing to take it. Simply put—nice eye candy.
I don’t realize I’m just standing in the doorway like a goof until Asher walks over to me.
“What do you need, Harlow?” he whispers, never missing a chord.
“Oh. I just came to see where everyone was,” I whisper back.
“Our practice sessions are closed. The guys need to be able to concentrate.” His eyebrows scrunch in concern. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I see you guys are busy. I’m going back upstairs.” Ren walks back in with a jug of water.
“We’ll be wrapping up in about an hour…okay?”
“Sure,” I tell Asher. He closes the door, and the sound is very faint now. You definitely wouldn’t be able to hear it upstairs. The riddle is solved. They’re in a soundproof room. I go back upstairs and try to decide what to do with myself. I’m bored. Then I get the brilliant idea to cook the guys breakfast. I don’t know if they ate already, but the kitchen doesn’t smell like it unless they ate out. Oh well, hopefully not. I pull out a carton of eggs, veggies, and even luck out and find some ham. I know Phoenix can’t have a regular omelet, so I separate some egg whites for him. I spray coconut oil into a skillet and make omelets for the guys with all the fixings. Then I make an egg white omelet for Phoenix with just veggies. I put on a pot of coffee and make scrambled eggs for myself. I’m mid-bite when the guys come up the stairs.
“What smells so good?” Ren asks.
“I made you guys all omelets. Phoenix, I made you an egg white omelet with veggies. I used coconut oil to coat the pan to keep it healthy for you.”
“Look at Phoenix getting special treatment already,” Ren jokes.
“Thank you, Harlow.” Phoenix smiles. “Are you trying to outshine me with the fellas?”
“Hush. No,” I say, punching him in the arm softly. Holy crap. He is solid.
Asher ignores the flirtatious undertone Ren is trying to insinuate. “Thank you for breakfast, princess. Especially since I kicked you out of our practice,” he says apologetically.
“Yeah, princess,” the guys echo in unison. Ugh. Asher needs to stop calling me princess in front of these guys. They can be so childish.
“Not a problem at all,” I reply. I grab a cup of coffee and take my omelet to the table. The guys grab theirs and all disappear, but not Phoenix. He joins me at the table.
“Thanks again for this,” he says seriously, pointing at his food. “That was very thoughtful. I know you weren’t too happy with me earlier.”
“It’s fine, Phoenix. I should have locked the door. That was my fault.”
“Yeah. You did leave it half open like I did yesterday.” He laughs.
“The house was quiet, so I thought everyone was gone. Both days.” I laugh once I realize I fell for the same shit two days in a row.
“See. Easy fix. We both just need to lock the door when we’re in there,” he suggests.
“Agreed.”
“I am curious about something, though,” he continues. Here we go. I knew it was coming. “Why all the makeup? You are so beautiful without it. And
those curves, just wow. That petite waist and curvaceous ass. It’s a shame to cover all that up with those baggy clothes you wear.”
I slap his arm, not so softly this time. “Shut up, Phoenix. You didn’t see shit. And I wear the makeup because I like it.”
“I call bullshit. You’re hiding behind a persona you’ve created. You’re not Goth. I know people who are, and you’re not it,” he accuses.
“Who the fuck said I was Goth or even trying to be? You all assumed that. I just happen to like black and baggy clothes. Get the fuck off my case. It’s none of your damn business.” I push the plate away from me because I’ve lost my appetite.
“I just about have you pegged, princess. I know hurting when I see it. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to pry because it is your fucking business. Why would I give a shit? Oh, and I saw plenty with your naked ass pressed against the reflective glass. I saw the curves of your breasts too with that pitiful excuse for a towel you were holding up—such a waste.”
I’m so spitting mad that I’m speechless. He doesn’t wait for my retort. He pushes his plate away, and the chair screeches against the tile as he gets up. “A fucking waste,” he mumbles again as he walks off toward the first floor.
“Stop trying to figure me out, asshole,” I finally get out when he is halfway down the stairs.
“Already have,” he retorts. A few moments later, I hear the door slam downstairs. So I guess we’re back to square one. One step forward and two steps back. I hope Asher didn’t overhear our fight. I don’t want to explain that Phoenix saw me half-naked, which was apparently a little more than half, according to him. I get up and gather his plate with mine and toss the remainder of the food in the trash. I rinse the plates and stick them in the dishwasher. I need to talk to Irelyn. I miss her, and I need someone to unleash all this shit on. It’s a little after eight in California right now, so she should be up. Still, I text her, just in case she is not alone.
Me: Call me if you can. No rush if you have company
A minute doesn’t even go by before my phone is ringing. “Hey, Irelyn,” I sigh into the phone.
“Nuh-uh, heifer. You wait three days to call me, and then it’s when you have issues. Damn, woman, what could possibly be wrong already?”
“Sorry. I was taking time to get settled in, and who says anything is wrong, puta?” Irelyn laughs so hard at me, calling her a whore in Spanish that I have to take the phone away from my ear. This is how we speak to each other, but nobody else better try it.
“I know you, pendejo,” she says, continuing with the Spanish insults.
“Miss you already, cray-cray.” And I do. I wish she were here with me.
“You already know I was missing you before you even left, Harlow,” she says, suddenly serious. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
That is all the prompting I need. I delve into everything that has happened in the past few days. I tell her how Phoenix drives me crazy and how I have unwanted reactions to him. It’s like I know better, but I can’t control my thoughts about him.
“It sounds like you got it bad, girlfriend. Your mind is saying one thing, but you’re right. You can’t hide the truth from yourself. I have to say this is the first time I’ve heard you speak this adamantly about a guy in the two years I’ve known you. They’re the enemy, remember?” Of course Irelyn doesn’t know the real truth about why I’m turned off by men, but she respects me enough not to pry. She’s always said that when the time comes and I’m ready to share, then I will. Until that day, she won’t push. No, I’m not into women either. I love Irelyn, and I’d be willing to share my story with anyone, it would be her, but I can’t. If I speak those demons, I fear they will haunt me even more than they already do. No. I choose to suppress those memories to the extent that I’m able. Phoenix is the first guy to get my attention since even before I met Irelyn.
And wouldn’t luck have it that he is totally unattainable. He is definitely a “hit it and quit it” type of guy. It’s better this way, I guess. It helps me keep the promise I made to myself about not letting a man get close to me.
“Yes, I remember, and they still are,” I reply. This is why I needed to talk to her. She gives me perspective.
“I need to meet this sexy motherfucker who has succeeded in turning my friend’s head,” she kids. “I guess I’ll see for myself tomorrow.” It takes me a second to process what she just said, but when I do, I let out a squeal.
“You’re coming here?” I can hardly contain my excitement.
“Yes. Sasha is coming with me. I hope that’s okay.” Sasha is her cousin that is one year older than us. I don’t dislike her, but she is a little snooty. “My aunt went on a cruise for a week. Sasha came to stay with me while she was gone, but I was already planning to surprise you. I told you I was missing you before you left.”
“No, that’s fine.”
“We will be arriving at ten in the morning. I’ll call you once we check in to our hotel.”
“No way. You’re staying here. Let me talk to Asher. You can sleep with me. I’m sure one of the guys can double up.” I hope Asher and the guys agree to it. “How long are you staying?”
“Just a few days. I plan to register for classes while I’m there.” I forgot about that.
“Great. Let me talk to Asher, and I’ll call you this evening. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Same here.” We say our goodbyes, and I try to think about how I’m going to approach Asher. I can usually get my way with him, but I don’t know how the guys will feel about it.
Chapter Three
Phoenix
I walk into the house, but it’s empty. Taking a quick look out at the lake, I see a couple of the guys in a canoe. I see Harlow sitting in one of the chaise lounge chairs fully clothed—meaning the absence of a swimsuit. Isn’t she uncomfortable with all of those clothes on? It’s August here in the South, so even though it’s nearly five in the afternoon, it still quite hot. I set my helmet down and walk down the pier to join her. I sit in a chaise next to hers.
“Hi,” I say simply. I know she still might be upset about the fight earlier, so I’m treading carefully. She looks over at me, dumbfounded.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to pretend you weren’t a jackass to me before you left.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Harlow. Let’s just start again.” Her eyebrows knit as if she is puzzled about something, but then she just shrugs.
“Look. I don’t have the energy to fight with you, either. I don’t want to be the one to come here and cause a rift between everyone. Just keep your eyes to yourself and your nose out of my business, and we will be fine.” She’s being snarky, but it doesn’t bother me. Whatever keeps the peace. I lean my chair all the way back, cross my hands behind my head, and close my eyes. I can feel the sun beaming down on me as the first bead of sweat drips from my forehead.
“Uh, what are you doing?” she questions.
I open one eye and peer over at her. “Sunbathing. What does it look like?”
“But you’re in regular clothes,” she says.
“So are you,” I point out, and she chuckles. I close my eyes and continue my mission to put her at ease. The guys are farther down the lake now, having a good time, and I don’t want her to be alone. It’s the least I can do—my peace offering. The sun disappears behind the trees, and I’m thankful that I won’t be as red as a lobster trying to keep her company. After about ten minutes, she leaves to go back inside, and I’m happy to follow, walking into the house where the A/C is so welcoming. I grab a glass of water while she takes a seat on the sofa. I take my water and go sit next to her.
“What are we watching?”
She looks over at me and smirks. “You’re being weird, but whatever. I watched your show, so you’re welcome to watch Elementary with me.”
“I love that show,” I say, a little too excited.
“Sure, you do,” she replies in doubt.
“Joan and Sherlock are consultants f
or the NYPD. She used to be his sober companion, but now she helps him solve all these cool murders.” She gives me that same puzzled look she did outside. I need to rein in my sharing.
“So I guess you do watch the show, but it isn’t one of your recordings on the DVR,” she says, still scrolling.
“Yeah, the guys would probably laugh me out of the house, so it’s a secret,” I lie. I do watch the show, but I don’t record it here. “Besides, if I happen to miss an episode, I can catch it on Hulu. That saves space on the DVR for someone else to record something.”
“True,” she answers as she ponders that explanation. “Well, did you see the last episode because I’m about to watch the latest one?”
“Sure did. Go for it.” She starts the show, and I enjoy trying to guess who the murderer is before she does. It is always the most unlikely suspect. I can’t help but sneak glances at her. She is beautiful, even with the shit she has caked on her face. Her laughter is infectious. The guys walk in near the ending of the show, and Asher gives me a look. No words need to be spoken. He is silently warning me off his sister.
