by E. K. Blair
"I'll be right back," I say as I rush to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
Seeing the one photo a few months ago seemed so harmless compared to all the ones I just saw. Who are all those women, and why is every picture so sensual? What is he doing with me? I could never be what those photos are, and I know he can't possibly see me in that way. I don't think I want him to see me that way. No, I definitely don't. It's not me. I'm...no, I can't even finish my thought.
Thoughts begin to flash quickly through my head, and I can't tell if I am overreacting. If he looks at women like that, then what is he doing with me? I have never really felt unsure of Ryan, but maybe I should be.
My thoughts seize for a moment when I hear Ryan tap on the door, and I wonder how long I've been in here going crazy. Apprehensively, I open the door.
"What are you doing?" he asks suspiciously as he takes a step in, and I take a step back. He can read my apprehension and gives me a confused look. "Babe, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Dropping his head, he lets out a breath of irritation at my lie.
"Is it the photos?"
I don't respond when he asks, but I know it's all over my face.
"Candace, you asked to see them. You knew what they would be of."
"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't think they would all be like that."
He walks in front of me and leans against the sink and says, "They're just pictures, that's all."
Sitting down on the closed toilet seat, I say, "But...they just seem so intimate."
"Babe, don't."
I look up at him and ask, because I need to know, "Did you sleep with them?"
"Yes," he responds honestly.
"How many have you...?"
"A lot."
"And you photograph them?" I say with a tinge of disbelief.
"No. I've only photographed a couple women. Most of those photos are the same person."
"Oh," I say as I drop my head, now more worried than ever. I feel uneasy sitting here in front of him when he's just told me all of this. I can't help but think what those women must have meant to him. Did he talk to them the same way he does with me? Were they all in his bed, the bed I sometimes sleep in? And what am I to him?
He crouches down in front of me and says, "I know what you're doing, and you can stop. None of them meant what you mean to me. I never had or wanted a relationship with them."
"Then why?"
Holding my hands, he admits, "Because for most of my life I've been lost. I dealt with a lot of shit growing up, and I used women as a way to escape. But when I met you...you're just different. I wanted to know you, really know you. You're nothing like those women. Nothing. I've never looked at them or wanted them the way I do you."
"I don't know what I'm doing," I shamefully confess.
"I don't either."
"I mean...I haven't..."
"Been with anyone?"
When I cover my face with my hands, he grips me behind my waist and brings me down to the floor with him, sitting sideways between his legs. Holding me, knowing I must be embarrassed, he says, "Talk to me."
"Only once, but he was really drunk and it...well, it was pretty much over before it begun."
"Sounds like an asshole."
"He was, but it kept my parents off my back. They really liked him and his family, so we would go out every now and then, but that was about it. So, I can't help but sometimes wonder what you're doing with me." Crap! Did I really just admit that?
"Look at me," he says, and when I do, he continues, "I don't give a shit how inexperienced you are. In fact, I prefer that because the thought of another guy touching you pisses me off. That guy was a dick for treating you like you were disposable. But don't devalue yourself because of that. I won't rush you into anything. You know that right?"
When I nod my head, he says, "You're what I want. No one else, okay?"
"I just get scared, and I feel like you might start thinking you're wasting your time with me. I know you'd prefer that I stay every night here with you, but that's what scares me. I just need to move slow with this."
"You're not a waste of my time. You're worth every second."
Sighing with a mild feeling of relief, I smile as he leans down and gives me a slow, soft kiss.
When I let a giggle slip out, he breaks our kiss and asks, "What?"
"Can we get off your bathroom floor now?"
Laughing, he stands up and holds out his hand to help me up.
"Let's get out of here," he says.
"Where are we going?"
"Let's go hang out at Zoca's and get some coffee."
"Perfect."
Regardless of the rain, we decide to sit outside, drink our coffee, and listen to an insanely grungy street performer. Standing in the rain, he strums the somber chords of 'Something in the Way' by Nirvana as he sings the doleful lyrics. Listening to this stranger sing one of my favorite songs, I get lost for a moment at the familiar words.
"You know this song?" Ryan asks, and I pull myself out of my daze.
I turn to look at him, and respond, "It's one of my favorites."
"I used to listen to this a lot when I was younger."
"Hmm..."
"What?" he asks.
"I did too." When the corner of Ryan's mouth turns up in a small half smile, I say, "Go give him some money."
Snickering, he says, "What? Why?"
"Because I want him to keep playing, and he deserves to be paid." I say as I smile back at him.
He shakes his head at me in amusement when he walks over to the desolate man and drops a few bucks in his open guitar case. When he returns and sits down, he gives me a smirk. "Happy?"
Lifting my mug to my mouth, I murmur, "Mmm hmm," as I take a sip of my coffee.
"I've been wondering about something."
"What's that?" I ask.
"I need to know that you're okay with money. Since your parents aren't helping you out and you just work part-time at a coffee shop, I've been worried."
"Don't be. I'm fine. When I turned twenty-one, I gained access to my trust fund, and my parents resigned as trustees."
"I didn't want to overstep, but I needed to know you're okay."
"I am."
"Ryan, man! Where've you been?" a guy yells as he's crossing the street toward us.
Ryan stands up and walks toward him, clasping their hands together before leaning in for a quick hug as they slap each other on the back. "I've been busy keeping the bar going."
"Shit, man, last I heard that place was raking in the money."
"Something like that."
The guy looks down at me and back to Ryan. "Sorry, I'll let you get back to your friend."
"No worries. This is Candace."
He reaches out his hand, and I stand up and shake it, when he says, "I'm Gavin."
"Hey."
"Sit down and grab a drink, man," Ryan says, and Gavin pulls up a chair to our table. Ryan turns to me and says, "Gavin and I've been friends since I moved here for college."
"Oh, yeah?" I say.
"Yeah, this guy left my ass behind when he decided to buy that fuckin' bar."
"So what do you do then?"
"I work in promotions and marketing at Sub Pop Records."
"Really? That sounds like a lot of fun. Working with anyone good?" I ask.
"Ever heard of Washed Out?"
"Yeah, I have their album actually."
"Within and Without?"
"Uh huh. So they're your client?"
"Yep, one of them. We're trying to get a tour set up right now, but that shit takes forever. Before this guy got so tied up with work, he used to always come out and listen to all the bands play," he says, nodding his head at Ryan.
"You should give me a list of some of your guys, and I can check the lineup and see if I have space for any of them to perform," Ryan says.
"Yeah, man. That'd be great."
"So, Candace, what do you do besides hang out wi
th this loser?" he says while laughing at Ryan.
"I'm a student, actually."
"U-Dub?"
"Yeah."
"What are you studying?"
"Dance. I'm a Fine Arts major."
"No shit?!"
"Yeah, man. No shit," Ryan jokes with a hint of possessiveness, and I have to laugh at his demeanor.
"Well, hey, I gotta run. I was actually on my way to a meeting, but I had to stop when I saw you."
"I'm glad you did. Sorry I've been out of pocket for the past couple months."
"No worries, but, hey, I'm throwing a party next month at my place. Everyone will be there. You should come by."
"I will. I'll call you next week."
"Oh, and if you're still around, you should come too," he says, cocking his head my way, "At least you have decent taste in music." He winks at me before saying, "Seriously though, it was nice meeting you."
Ryan looks at me and jokes, "Just ignore him."
"It was good to meet you too, Gavin."
"Take it easy, man," he says to Ryan as he starts walking off.
Turning to Ryan, I say, "So, why haven't you been hanging out with your friends?"
"I've been a little distracted for the past few months," he says with a grin, and I know he's referring to me.
Grinning, I say, "Well, don't let me keep you from your friends."
"Don't worry about my friends, I see most of them a lot 'cause they hang out at Blur to hear bands play."
"Oh." I feel like I have isolated myself from a part of Ryan's life because I never go to his bar. Maybe if I did, I would know his friends. Instead, there's this disconnect. Ryan knows my friends, albeit, only Jase and Mark, but he also chats with Roxy frequently when he stops by the coffee shop when I'm working. Although I've met his family, it would be nice to get to see him with his friends as well.
"I didn't mean how that came out," he says.
"No, I understand. You guys hang out, I just didn't know that."
Reaching over and taking my hand in his, he says, "Would you think about coming up again? We can just go together during the day. No people."
I stare at our entwined fingers, and I know that night bothers him. He hasn't mentioned anything since or questioned me about it, but I know it hurt him that I bailed with Jase and didn't turn to him. But, I don't know if I can ever go there again.
When I don't answer, he simply says, "Just think about it, babe."
"I will. I promise."
Hey! You home?
On way now. Leaving gym.
Mind if I stop by?
Not at all. Be there in 10.
See ya!
"Hey, Roxy," I holler over the coffee bean grinder. "I'm heading out, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Thanks for covering the shift this morning."
"No problem. Have you found anyone to replace Brandon yet?"
"I have another interview today," she says as she hands a customer their drink.
"Well, I'll be in tomorrow."
"Okay. See you then."
"See you," I say while putting on my coat and popping the hood over my head before heading out into the rain.
I've been taking over Brandon's shifts after he had to quit a few days ago. I'm not taking as many hours in school right now, so I have the free time. Now I need to run by Ryan's and pick up that photo so that I can submit it to Thinkspace Art Gallery. I didn't bother selecting photos when I was over there last Thursday. That sort of turned into a mess that led to confessions on the bathroom floor. Not my finest moment, but let's face it, those are few and far between these days.
But, I only need that one photo that originally caught my eye. When I walk into his loft, I can hear the shower running upstairs, so I go into his office. Sliding the door open to his credenza, I notice the mattes aren't there. I head back into the living room to look around, but I can't find them.
"Hey, babe," Ryan says while he's walking down the stairs. He's dressed, but his hair is still wet from his shower.
"Hey."
"What are you scrounging around for?" he asks as he cradles my cheeks and kisses me.
"Your mattes. I can't find them."
Kissing me again, he briefly pauses to say, "That's because they're not here," before covering my mouth with his again.
"Where are they?" I mumble against his lips.
Pausing again, he says, "I tossed them," and then he kisses me again.
I pull back in surprise. "What?! Why?"
"Because they made you uncomfortable."
"But I was looking for the photo of the woman's back so I could submit it to the gallery."
"I don't have it. I threw them all away."
Flopping down on the large leather chair behind me, I let out a defeated sigh.
Ryan sits on the coffee table in front of me, elbows resting on his knees, and asks, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I was just excited to submit that photo." Leaning my head back on the chair, I mumble, "Maybe it was a stupid idea."
"Is it that important to you?"
"I just thought if you saw one of your pieces in a showing, that you would see the art in it."
Giving me a smile, he says, "It wasn't difficult to capture or enhance. I can recreate it if you want."
"We don't have time for you to find someone to pose. It needs to be submitted tomorrow by the end of the day."
"We don't need to find anyone. Let's go upstairs. I'll shoot your back," he suggests and I feel my face flush at the thought of him photographing me.
"No."
"No, what?"
"I'm not taking my top off for you to photograph me."
He leans in and rests his hands on my knees. "You don't have to take anything off, promise. It's an extreme close-up; you only need to hike it up a little."
His original photo was so beautiful; there is no way he could capture that with me.
Standing up, he takes ahold of my hand and lifts me out of the chair.
"What?"
"We're going upstairs."
I tug my hand away. "Ryan, no."
He turns around to look at me. "What's wrong?"
"It feels weird to me."
"Don't let it."
"You just can't say that and expect me to be okay," I say and fold my arms across my chest. "I'm not like the girls you took those pictures of. I'm..."
"No, you're not. You're nothing like them, which is why I threw them in the garbage." Cupping my face again, he kisses me before assuring, "I only want you. No one else. The only photos I want are ones of you."
When we walk into his room, my heart starts beating faster. I sense the dampness on my palms and they begin to tingle with nerves.
Ryan goes into his closet and pulls out his camera. Walking toward the windows, he pulls the drapes shut and the room darkens. He takes my hand and leads me over to the bed.
"Just lie on your stomach."
I swallow hard against the lump that's lodged in my throat and lie on the bed, folding my arms beneath my head. Staring at him as he climbs onto the bed next to me on his knees, my body tenses when I feel him touch the hem of my shirt.
"I'm just going to lift it up a little."
Taking a deep breath through my nose, I close my eyes and feel his hand graze my back as he pulls my shirt up and tucks it under my bra.
"You okay?"
"Mmm hmm." My heart is still racing, and I'm very aware of myself.
The bed shifts, and when I open my eyes, Ryan is kneeling beside the bed, focusing on his camera and adjusting the settings. I take a calming breath and concentrate on what he's doing to take my mind off of how awkward and exposed I feel right now.
Holding the camera up to his eye, he sets the flash and starts fidgeting with the camera again. He repeats this a few times, then tells me, "I'm gonna take a few test shots to get the shutter speed right, okay?"
I nod my head and watch him as he leans in close to me, his camera up to his eye. The loud clicks of the camera startl
e me slightly, and my body tightens as I flinch. I'm hyperaware of everything around me as I lie here in the dark.
He reaches over me and picks up a pillow. "Here, lean up," he says and I push my chest off the bed as he places the pillow under me. "I just need a little more curve to your spine. Just lay down and relax."
He kneels back down and moves in close to me with the camera back up to his eye. "That's perfect," he mumbles, and I begin to hear the fast clicking of the camera. The flash pulses in pops of light in the dark room. And before I know it, it's dark and quiet again. The bed dips back down as he sits next to me, untucking my shirt from my bra and pulling it back down over my back.
Bracing his arms on the mattress on either side of my shoulders, he hovers over me and lowers himself to kiss my cheek.
"Thanks," he says with a soft rasp.
I shift to my side, and he lies next to me, pulling me closer to him. He lightly brushes his lips against mine before pressing into me. Weaving my fingers through his hair, I pull him even closer. My stomach starts to flutter, and an overwhelming need for closeness takes over. Being with him like this makes me want to open myself up. I feel safe in his arms and the feelings that come with it are intense. Feelings I have never had for anyone else before. I want to be close to him, but I'm so uncomfortable with myself. I worry I'll embarrass myself if he touches me in a way I can't handle. I worry that I'll be a disappointment to him.
Rolling me on my back, he begins to trail his warm damp kisses down my neck and along my shoulder. I grasp onto his arms and feel the flexing of his muscles under my hands as he moves across my collarbone. He reaches down, placing his hand on the side of my thigh, and squeezes as he starts to glide it slowly upward. My breath catches, and I quickly clamp my hand around his wrist. Pulling his head back, he studies my face, and I whisper, "Sorry."
"You don't ever have to be sorry."
I gently nod my head.
In a whisper, he says, "God, you're beautiful."
"So, you have to tell me what's going on with you and Ryan," Roxy says as we move around, making drinks for the line of people waiting.
"I don't really know."
"You like him, right?"
I look at her as I steam some milk for a customer's latte and she prompts me, "Right?"