by Anni Antoni
I allowed my eyes to wander over him, and yes, he did resemble Westley, but with darker hair and a cute spray of freckles across his nose. This was getting weirder by the minute.
“Well maybe he does, but we still have to get him out of those wet boxers and into something warmer.” When things get too weird, it’s safer to take care of simple, practical things. It keeps things in perspective.
I handed the pajamas to Claire. She was at the right end of him to take off his boxers. I sat down on the floor and grabbed him under his arm pits to help her get leverage. As I did that, he took a huge shuddering breath. Good, he was coming round, if he didn’t wake up soon, he would need expert medical attention. He didn’t have any obvious injuries, but he could have banged his head and have a concussion. We just didn’t know. A sharp intake of breath from Claire interrupted my thoughts. “Oh my. OH MY!” She literally purred.
I saw where her eyes were focused. “Claire!” I scolded her. “Stop perving!” I couldn’t help myself, I looked too, and noticed my own involuntary intake of breath. He was all male, magnificent. “Get those pajamas on him now – and the blankets.”
“I saw you looking too,” Claire grinned wickedly as she slipped his boxers off and the pajamas on in an expert manner.
Now it was my turn. I had to get the pajama top on him. “Let’s take him to the couch first,” I said. “It’ll be easier to put a top on him there, and I’m less likely to bang his head on the floor.”
So we carried him over to the couch. I walked backwards, holding him under the arms and Claire carried his feet. I lurched backwards onto the couch, sitting down heavily. His head ended up in my lap, causing Claire to stumble. She managed to place his legs on the sofa, but ended up sitting heavily on the floor.
All that lurching and bumping had an effect. The stranger groaned. I held my breath, hoping we hadn’t hurt him. He turned his head toward Claire, as she sat on the floor, and opened his eyes, his face inches from hers.
“Hi,” she whispered. She must have felt overwhelmed because normally she would have much more to say when meeting a gorgeous guy for the first time.
“Hu-h-hi.” Strange, his voice sounded kind of rusty. Perhaps the shock of the cold water made him sound that way.
“I’m Claire,” she whispered, her nose almost touching his.
“Claire,” he sighed. I could see where this was going. Claire was working her magic on him. It was always the same. She was the pretty one and always got the guy.
He closed his eyes, slowly turning his head away from her, toward me. He snuggled into my soft tummy and inhaled deeply.
Claire giggled, “Is he sniffing you?”
It did seem like he was sniffing me. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s probably concussed.” I tried not to sound embarrassed.
“Bull!” she laughed. “He’s definitely sniffing you.” Claire could be blunt.
He moved his head and gazed up at me, then closed his eyes and smiled a secretive little smile, for all the world as though he was offering thanks to whatever deity he believed in.
When he opened his eyes again a few seconds later, he gazed deeply into my eyes. I floated in their brilliant, clear blue, swirling depths. “Hi,” I struggled to breathe.
“Hi.” He smiled. His voice sounded more normal now.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably a few seconds, I muttered, “I’m Lizbet.” I could have kicked myself. I’d used the name I hated to introduce myself to him.
“Lizzz Bet,” it sounded like he was tasting my name. He made it sound like the sexiest name ever. I vowed in that moment I would never, ever use any other name.
“What’s your name?” asked Claire.
He didn’t take his eyes off my face, “Name?” Obviously, the question puzzled him.
“He must be foreign,” she muttered. Then, much louder and slower, she said, “My name is Claire, her name is Lizbet,” and she prodded him with her finger, “Your name is…?”
“Ah, name,” he answered, still looking at me. “No name.” And he pointed to himself.
“You can’t have no name,” Claire sounded perplexed. I didn’t know if she looked perplexed or not. I was too busy getting lost in No Name’s eyes again.
“He might be foreign, but he’s not deaf,” I gulped, trying to gain control over my voice, and tearing my gaze away from the magnificent stranger. I couldn’t allow myself to get too attached to him, he would be all over Claire in a few moments.
He spoke again, “No name, Hawk clan 2651.” He was still looking into my face. I felt it, even though I was still looking at Claire. His gaze caressed my face.
“What on earth does that mean?” Claire stood up and paced back and forth. “Perhaps he is concussed, after all,” she looked over at me with a worried frown. “He’s not making sense.”
She walked back to the couch and sat down on the floor, so her face was close to him. He was still gazing up at me, so she gently turned his face toward hers. “Are you hurt?” she asked, slowly and deliberately although not as loud as before.
“Are you hurt?” he parroted. He obviously didn’t understand.
Claire sighed in exasperation. She stood up then collapsed on the floor with a scream, mimicking his accident. Then she sat up, held her head and went cross-eyed, swaying from side to side, acting a cartoon version of hurt. “Hurt,” she said, looking intently into his face. “Are you hurt?”
He laughed. It was a wonderful sound, as though he laughed often. He touched his head. “No hurt.” As if trying to prove it, he sat up, and I realized he was taller than I had estimated, at least a head taller than me.
I looked down and saw the pajama pants he was wearing were halfway up his legs. The pajama top I had planned to put on him was much too small. It would never fit across his shoulders and the arms would be way too short. He was built like a Greek god. My heart did a little fluttering dance, and I forgot to breathe again as my eyes wandered over his body and up to his face.
He was still looking at me. “Lizzzz Bet,” he said in that wonderful way he had of pronouncing my name. I blushed, couldn’t help it. Then he put his hand on my cheek. “Mmmm, Lizzz Bet,” he smiled at me. I didn’t know where to look and blushed even more.
He was still half naked, and he’d been in the freezing pool. He must be cold; my mind was trying to take refuge in practicalities again. “Are you cold?” I asked him breathlessly as I offered him a blanket.
“No cold, Lizzbet,” he gently pushed the blanket aside and smiled. I was in danger of getting lost in his eyes once more.
“Well the two of you still look like drowned rats,” Claire laughed. “I’ll get a brush and some towels for your hair.” She started toward the stairs.
I panicked at the thought of being left alone with him. “No. You stay here. I’ll get them.” I jumped to my feet, imagining how ridiculous I looked with my hair all wet and plastered to my head.
“If you insist,” said Claire, hurrying to sit next to No Name.
Well, that was that, I may as well take my time in the bathroom because he would be focused on Claire by the time I got back. I sighed heavily. It had been nice while it lasted. I had enjoyed his attention while I had it, but after all, why wouldn’t he prefer Claire?
In the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. God, what a mess, besides my straggly wet hair my face was all blotchy, big pink patches on a pasty white background. My face looks like that if I get too emotional or excited. I dried my hair with a hairdryer. After about 10 minutes all I could say was, well, I looked somewhat better than before.
I had to take a brush and towel downstairs for No Name otherwise I would have stayed upstairs and left them to it. Closing the bathroom door, I stepped out onto the landing and made my way downstairs.
“Lizz Bet!” As I walked down the stairs. No Name stood up, walked toward me, and enveloped me in the biggest bear hug, as though I’d been gone for months --the last thing I expected.
“He like
s you,” Claire laughed. “He kept saying your name while you were gone. What happened? You took your time!”
“Just drying my hair that’s all,” I said as I relaxed into the warmth of No Name’s glorious hug. I couldn’t help it, I snuggled into his arms and hugged him back. The feel of his ripped chest against mine, and his long, strong arms around me was magic. He bent down and nuzzled my neck. I gasped, suddenly breathless again. He released me and peered into my face, looking puzzled. I smiled shakily at him, grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.
He sat down as I gently pushed his shoulders. Standing behind him, I took the towel and rubbed his hair to get any excess moisture out. Then I took the brush to his thick, dark hair.
“Let’s give him a name,” said Claire. “We have to call him something. What do you suggest?”
He leaned back, smiled and closed his eyes as I brushed his hair. He was obviously enjoying it. His hair was long on top and short at the sides and back, modern style. It was soon dry, even though it was thick, and it had a lustrous shine to it.
“What about Westley?” I suggested.
I stood back to admire my handiwork, and he grinned up at me. He looked beautiful – like someone out of the pages of GQ magazine. I loved the way his dark-blonde hair flopped over his eyes on one side. Yeah, he was like Westley, but a darker, more modern, trendy version. I smiled back at him.
“Good choice,” laughed Claire. She poked him in the chest and said, “Your name is Westley.”
“Yes,” he grinned and pointed to himself. “Name Westley.” He understood.
Claire caught my eye and pretended to yawn. “Well, it’s been a long day and I’m tired. Time for me to go to bed,” she smirked. Oh no, she intended to leave me alone with No Name, er Westley. I panicked.
“Can I have a word with you in the kitchen before you go to bed?” I grabbed her hand, dragging her along. “Don’t leave me alone with him Claire,” I pleaded desperately, as we reached the kitchen, my voice a dry rasp.
“What’s wrong with you? The most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen in my life falls out of the sky at your feet. He’s really into you, and you don’t want to be left alone with him? Aaaah!” She put her hands to her head in frustration.
“I’m scared,” I croaked. “Anyway, we know nothing about him. He may look gorgeous, but he could be an axe murderer!”
Claire scratched her head. After a while she said, “Well, he’s left his axe behind if he’s an axe murderer. But I get your point. Seriously though, you need to get out of your own way and live a little. I’d take a chance if he was into me in such a big way.”
I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It read 2 AM. “We should all go to bed,” I faked a yawn. “It’s late. The two of us can share a bedroom and Westley can have his own room. I noticed earlier that the bedrooms all have their own locks and keys. We can lock him in for the night, just to be safe.”
“Okay, it’s your call,” Claire shrugged. “I think you’re crazy though.” Then she smiled an evil little smile. “Good luck explaining all that to him,” she chuckled.
We walked back into the living room and Westley visibly relaxed. I sat down next to him on the couch and took his hand. “We all have to sleep now,” I told him. He looked totally bewildered. “Sleep,” I said putting my head on my closed hands, and shutting my eyes, miming the act of sleeping.
“Sleep?” He didn’t understand.
I sighed and closed my eyes in frustration. Then I had an idea. I took him by the hand and stood up. He stood up too. “Come with me,” I said and gave a little tug as I walked toward the stairs. He followed willingly, smiling down at me.
I led him up the stairs to a bedroom. He was looking around as we went, interested in everything he saw, but he kept hold of my hand and followed me closely. I took him into the bedroom and pointed to the bed. “Sleep,” I said to him.
He had that same confused expression on his face he had earlier. So, to make him understand, I sat on the bed, yawned and fell back against the plump pillows with my eyes shut. That should give him the right idea.
Next thing, he was on the bed beside me, his arms around me, holding me close. “Ah, no!” I struggled into a sitting position. He let go of me and looked into my face in a concerned manner.
“Lizz Bet?” he looked worried, as if he had done something wrong and didn’t know what it was. I felt like kissing him better, but he’d take it the wrong way. Who knew where that would lead.
I stood up and so did he. I pointed to the bed and said, “Westley sleep.” He looked sad as I backed toward the door. “Sorry, Westley,” I said as I reached the door and turned off the light. “Sleep,” I backed out and shut the door.
“Lizz Bet?” I heard him say as I turned the key in the lock. He sounded hurt and puzzled. I shook my head. Claire was right. There was something wrong with me! Feeling miserable, I made my way to the bedroom Claire and I would share. I wanted to go back to him, but I just couldn’t give myself permission. No doubt about it, I was chicken, scared to live life to the full.
Claire was still awake, of course. She was waiting to see if I’d turn up or not. I knew how she thought. When I came in the door, she said, “Blast, I hoped you’d stay with him.”
“I thought about it,” I sighed. “But it didn’t feel right. Yes, he’s totally gorgeous, but I don’t know him well enough to stay with him in his bedroom.”
“You think too much,” Claire yawned. “He’s just next door. You could always sneak back in there later tonight.”
I thought about it as I climbed into bed beside her. I was still thinking about it an hour later as I tossed and turned in the bed, thumping the pillow every now and then.
I must have dozed off, because I woke with a start and looked at the digital clock on the bedside table, 6:45AM. I could go to Westley’s room, right now. It was pitch black, but I got up without thinking it over. If I thought about it I wouldn’t go.
I slid quietly out of the bed, so as not to wake Claire. Carefully opening the door, I crept down the hallway to Westley’s room. I turned the key and went inside. I had never done anything like this in my whole life. My heart was thumping, fit to burst out of my chest, I was so scared. My legs were wobbly, and I gulped in air only when I remembered, but I still refused to think.
A sliver of light from somewhere downstairs allowed me to see the outline of the bed in Westley’s room. I crept toward it and sat down on the edge, reaching out to where he should be. He wasn’t there. I ran my hands all over the bed. He wasn’t in it.
◆◆◆
My eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, but I raced over to the light switch and turned it on. He was gone. How had he escaped from a locked room? Through the window? No, when I checked, the window was locked from the inside.
My heart sank. Stupid coward, I berated myself, he’s gone, and you’ll never see him again.
Hot, fat tears rolled down my cheeks. I sat on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. I could have kicked myself. I’d missed out on something that could have been, no, would have been, wonderful, all because of my own stupidity and fears. I had no-one to blame but myself.
After a few minutes self-pity, I dragged myself downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee, I needed coffee. I turned on the coffee machine. A good strong coffee might help me feel less miserable. What a loser I was.
As I was debating whether or not to make myself breakfast, a familiar male voice behind me said, “Hi Lizbet.” I jumped, and turned around, unable to take in what was happening. It was Westley, and he was speaking normally.
I couldn’t help it, I launched myself at him and gave him a huge hug. “Westley, you’re here.” I buried my face in his chest.
He was hugging me too. “Yes Lizbet,” he laughed, then he leaned back, still holding me, and he looked into my face. “Sorry I was a dork last night. But I used the computer when you left me. Now I speak your language better. I have some manners also.”
What was he trying t
o explain to me? It didn’t make sense. Surely he couldn’t pick up our language in just a few hours on the computer. And how did he get out of a locked bedroom? My mind couldn’t take it in, so I resorted to practicalities again. “Let’s have coffee and get to know each other,” I said, giddy with happiness.
I tore my eyes off his face and reached for his hand to lead him to the kitchen. He was wearing a black tank top, tight black jeans and sneakers. I gasped. “You’ve got different clothes on. Where did you find those clothes?”
Noticing my reaction, he frowned, “You not like these? Is this better?” Before my eyes his clothes changed to stone colored cotton pants, matching T-shirt and a stylish black jacket.
I gasped again, hardly believing what my eyes had seen. “How, how… Did you just change your clothes?” I stuttered.
“A trick I learned this morning. I saw these clothes on the internet,” he laughed. “I am… I’m really wearing what you gave me.” Suddenly he was standing there in the too short pajamas I’d given him. Then he changed back again, wearing the fashionable pants, T-shirt and jacket.
It made no sense. Perhaps I was still dreaming. I pinched myself, hard, to make sure I was awake. Yes, it hurt. I was awake all right. What was going on? I didn’t want to think too much, so, I led Westley to the kitchen and focused on making coffee.
Westley watched me intently as I poured the coffee into two mugs and added milk and two sugars. I was so rattled I didn’t even ask him how he liked his coffee. Westley sniffed the coffees, then followed me as I went, coffees in hand, to sit on the couch.
I sipped my coffee, totally bewildered. Westley sipped his and pulled a face. “You like this drink?” he sounded puzzled.
“Yes,” I said. I had so many questions to ask him, but I didn’t know where to start. Just looking at him made me tongue-tied, and my blushes were coming back again. He was so perfect, so beautiful, I found it hard to string two thoughts together coherently. And yet here he was sitting next to me – and me in my pink rabbit pajamas, drinking coffee as though it was the most natural thing in the world.