by Shey Stahl
He moves closer to me to the point where I can feel his breath on my shoulder. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear. “Don’t be mad, please.”
I turn my head, ready to say something but he’s so close that I could kiss him. I want to. He’s beautiful and tempting and it’d be so easy. Just lean in.
I’m about to when I finally gather my senses. “I gotta go.”
I jump up out of the water reaching for my towel and run away for the second time today.
I never saw this coming. I had a feeling Tathan had some secrets. Look at him. He certainly has them. No man looked like him and was single.
“How could I have been so blind? I mean ... how could I have not seen this coming?”
I’m asking all these questions to Oliver, who has a small drop of paint on his back.
I’m painting my kitchen at the moment. I like to paint to distract myself. My apartment has so many different colors in it now you’d think I was a paint store. My thoughts must have been on Tathan because I went with a chocolate color for my kitchen. Consequently, this makes me think of his eyes.
Most people don’t paint apartments but I do. Yeah, I’ll change it back but I like to be at home and painting makes me feel at home.
After my second coat, I was really getting into my music selection and starting to shake my ass a little. Okay, I’m not gonna lie, I was shaking my ass like I was auditioning for a music video, which reminds me of the dance with Tathan at the Red Revolver.
Once the song was finished, I was panting, out of breath and clutching my side.
Soon I realize I hear a clapping sound. Turning quickly—though I don’t want to—I see Tathan standing there, no shirt, watching in just a pair of worn khaki shorts sporting that same damn smirk.
I hate him.
Why does he have to be so hot? And he’s half naked again just to tease me.
Does he ever walk around fully clothed?
Doubtful with that body. I would probably walk around naked as well if my stomach looked like that.
“Don’t stop on my account, Amalie,” he says with an amused smirk, his eyes focused on my ass as he motions with his hands for me to continue.
Oliver looks up at him from his place beside me and growls at Tathan but doesn’t get up. It’s apparent it’s not worth the effort to him.
“What do you want and how did you get in here?” I growl, sounding a little like Oliver.
I admit, I’m a little embarrassed at the show I just gave him and still peeved that he didn’t tell me he was Elliot Warren.
He shrugs once seemingly not deterred by the harshness. “Sunday paper. Wasn’t sure if you’re the kind of girl who looks through sales ads.”
He knows that I’m not. This is just his way to annoy me.
“I’m capable of retrieving my own paper, thank you.” I retort. I’m only angry because I feel so damn exposed here. I was just shaking my ass shamelessly not knowing I had an audience.
I want your mouth on me.
Shit. Stop!
He nods, his right hand running over his jaw. “You keep telling me that.”
I love your hands. I want them on my body.
“But yet you never listen.”
“I know,” he’s smirking again. “It gives me an excuse to talk to you.” He leans up against the wall crossing his arms over his chest. “You could continue,” he motions with his hands. “I was enjoying myself.”
“I’m sure you were, buddy. I don’t do private dances,” I tell him. “And you are going to need to wash off that paint before it sticks to you.”
His brow furrows. “What paint?”
“The paint on your arm,” I motion toward the wall, trying not to laugh.
He looks at me, confused again. At this point I have to sigh and roll my eyes. Then it dawns on him, finally, that he has leaned up against a wet wall.
He chuckles as he stares at his arm and then walks toward the door.
“Happy showering,” I tell him with a huge smirk because I’m already envisioning water beading off that tight hot body of his. Then I could towel dry him ... shit ... stop!
“Thanks to your little show there, it will be happy showering,” he taunts over his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem ...enjoy your time with Rosie.”
As I expect, he stops before he reaches the door and tilts his head to the side as he grins like I just told him he won the lottery. Oliver, not liking his proximity, growls again before Tathan talks.
He looks down at my dog and then to me. “Care to assist me?”
I don’t have to think about it. “Nope,” I say quickly, and I’m actually surprised that I said it so quickly because that is not at all what I’m thinking. Mentally I’m already standing beside him with water beading over every hard surface of his body.
I can’t help but smile again once he leaves. Thinking of Tathan, thinking of me, in the shower doing things that have nothing whatsoever to do with bathing makes me smile.
Oliver looks up at me like I’m crazy, which I am but refuse to admit it out loud to anyone, even if it is a puppy.
“Shut up, Oliver.” He looks up at me but doesn’t say anything.
Monday mornings are never my favorite day of the week at work. Mostly because it’s usually so busy I don’t have time to even think but lucky for me nearly everyone was out of the office this morning at an offsite meeting. I volunteered to stay at the office, as did Zane.
Naturally we weren’t getting any work done. We’re sitting at my desk looking through the latest issue of Brides, which Elliot Warren is on the cover of.
The photograph is of him, wearing all black again, with his head bowed looking down at his camera that’s carried in his palm, the other hand in the pocket of his black slacks. If you didn’t know it, you wouldn’t think that Tathan and Elliot are the same person. The only distinguishing feature that really gives away that it’s him are his eyes. Maybe that’s why whenever he’s photographed, his eyes are either hidden, or his head is bowed.
Sighing contently, Zane stares at Tathan’s photo.
“I know you know everything so what’s really the deal with Tathan anyways?” I flick Tathan’s picture on the cover.
“Well, he’s Elliot Warren. He’s probably the most talented wedding photographer the industry has ever seen,” Zane muses. “He makes more in a month then most see in a year, and when his trust fund kicks in at thirty ... let’s just say he won’t need to take photographs for a living.”
“So, he’s a man-whore, a very rich man-whore,” I knew that already. I’ve named the sluts in his bucket.
“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he says flipping through the magazine, staring at his picture again. “That’s your perception of him but I don’t think it’s honestly the truth.”
He’s right. He’s absolutely fucking right. I have this idea of what Tathan is like but from what I’ve seen it’s nowhere near accurate and that frustrates me.
Zane continues to stare at his picture in the magazine like a fourteen-year-old girl stalking Brad Pitt.
“Where’d all the money come from and why does he go by Elliot Warren.” I know what Tathan told me but I can’t help but wonder if Zane knows anything else.
His brow furrows for a second and then he looks back at the magazine. “Ever heard of Warren-Madsen Engineering?”
“Who hasn’t? They’re the largest engineering company in the Southwest. We’re partnered with them on a lot of jobs.”
He looks at me like I’m a complete idiot, which I am because I hadn’t figured this out sooner.
“Well, there you have it.” He says, nodding, as if I should automatically understand.
“Wait.” It finally dawns on me. “You mean to tell me he owns Warren-Madsen Engineering as well?” I ask, confused. “Why is he a photographer then?”
I haven’t been this confused since the first time I saw a penis. It looked nothing like what I expected. And then it grew and was all veiny looking. N
ot something a girl wants to see as a teenager.
“No, he doesn’t own it. Well, actually he does but he’s partners with his brothers.”
“So how do they own the company?”
“How do you not know this? And when he started here in January how did you not know he was also Elliot Warren the photographer?” he asks, surprised I don’t know the story behind this. I guess I didn’t think there was a story behind him. Just a man-whore with a gorgeous body and a cool car.
“I’m not a gossip queen like you.” I point out. “I actually do my job.” Zane knows everything about everyone in the city.
“Oh, please.” He waves his arm in front of me. “I’m just perceptive and I’ve worked here for two years.” He puts the magazine aside finally. “Alright, so Warren-Madsen Engineering was owned by Tathan’s birth parents, Jason Madsen and Keri Warren. They started the company right out of college and married a few years later. About twelve years ago they were shot to death during a car-jacking on Indian School Road.” He pauses and pulls up the article on Google and points to it. I start reading it as he continues. “Anyway, after they died they left everything to Tathan and his older brothers. James took over running the day-to-day operations of the firm at first but when Tathan was old enough to work, he decided to continue with his passion, photography. Rumor has it that they have trust funds set up to take effect when they turn thirty. That’s how James bought the restaurant.”
“What does Kelly do?”
Zane rolled his eyes. “He’s supposed to run Warren-Madsen Engineering but Paul does mostly, which was why you hadn’t met him until a week ago. He’s a busy man.”
“How old is Tathan?”
“He turns twenty-six in August. Kelly is twenty-nine and James is thirty-three.”
“If you knew Tathan was Elliot Warren, how come you didn’t tell me before?”
“It really wasn’t my place to say. He likes to keep his cover.” He shrugs. “Mostly everyone around here knows ... why do you think these sluts around here are so obsessed with him? He’s famous.”
“But Casey didn’t know either.”
“She doesn’t pay attention to that sort of thing.”
He’s right. She doesn’t.
I turn my attention to the article and I don’t realize I’m crying until Zane hands me a tissue. The article is so detailed on Jason and Keri’s endless love for one another. That they met when they were eight years old. It described a fairy tale love that you wouldn’t think even existed, ever. No wonder Tathan is the way he is.
Just when you think someone’s life is perfect you see it’s not. The guy who makes you fucking insane at work now has a tragic story. I feel so bad for Tathan. I just want to comfort him, which scares me because I had a plan. This plan has went to shit. I need a plan that doesn’t include having sympathy for a guy like Tathan Madsen and I’m not sure a plan like that exists anymore.
Later that night I needed time to relax. I feel like my brain is melting away with everything so I head down to the hot tub around eight after walking Oliver. I take a bottle of wine with me too.
I’m down there all of ten minutes and I see Tathan walking toward the gate wearing his black and white swim shorts, a towel hung over his shoulder and two beers in his hand. I swear, I can’t get a moment alone anymore. After today and that article, I was strangely okay with him coming down here.
He says nothing as he gets in across from me. I shamelessly watch his every move and the way his defined body flexes as he sits down. He opens his beer next and then tips it up to me. I raise my wine glass just an inch and smile.
“Where’s your dog?”
“Sleeping on my kitchen floor.” I’m staring at the hills and the way they’re glowing from the city lights. “He’s lazy. Must be all this wedding planning wearing him out.” I think I’m funny but I’m not sure. I peek up at Tathan to see the corners of his mouth slightly quirked.
“How’s the wedding planning going?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead I take a slow sip of my wine. “Good. She’s getting married next weekend.”
His brow raises. “Big plans for the bachelorette party?”
Of course he wants to know what we have planned.
“Not really.” I’m not sure what he’s getting at but Casey gets asked this a lot. Everyone assumes we’d go to Vegas, though we’re not. She’s not much of a Vegas girl and neither am I.
“So,” he begins with a smile never making eye contact with me. “I hear Casey has been trying to get me to do her photos for her wedding?”
I say nothing because I know exactly where this is going and I don’t like it. “Hotel California” comes over the speakers behind me and I smile, this song and this scene make me smile, only for a moment though and I’m back to reality.
He smiles too and his eyes give away a little side I hadn’t seen before. Just a glimpse into him as a person and it’s nothing like I think it is.
Then he speaks.
“I might be inclined to say yes, if you will go out with me.” His voice is softer and I expect it to be. Shy even.
“Why would you want that?” I’m not mean when I say that, but I suppose in some sense the remark is mean, insensitive or demeaning. “I wouldn’t be going because I like you. It’s just a bribe.”
“All I need is one date to show you the person I am is not the person you think I am.”
I laugh at his bluntness. “Are you always so confident?”
“I can be ... sure.” He looks at me after taking a drink of his beer. It’s just a quick glance before his eyes shift to the bottle in his hand resting on the concrete ledge. “Or maybe I just see you and know that all you’re really looking for is a friend. Not a boyfriend ... you’re looking for a best friend. Someone you can trust.”
I hate him. “Stop talking.” I’m about to cry and I think he knows it.
“I have one rule.”
“Okay ...” he waits patiently, a smile tugging at his lips because I can see it. Deep down this one rule, no matter what it is, means nothing to him. I know that before I say it. There is something about Tathan that even if you hate him, even when you don’t know him, there’s an easiness to him you can’t ignore. A comfort. So, for my one rule, I protect myself. I have to.
“You only get one date. No more. No matter what.”
He looks at me like I’m joking but quickly agrees despite the apprehensive expression. “Deal.” He holds out his hand, which I don’t take.
I stand there for a moment drying off and slip my flip flops on. “Let me get this straight... one date and you’ll take Casey’s photos?” He nods. “And then you’ll leave me alone?” He nods again, and I have to add, for the sake of him staring at me and making me nervous, “Because we know damn well you and me won’t work.”
“That sounds about right.” He says, but there’s some amusement behind his words, like he’s about ready to make a joke.
“Deal.” I say, finally shaking his hand.
He holds it tighter when I let go. “Oh, and Amalie?”
“Yeah?”
He pulls me closer. “You’re wrong.”
“About what?”
“About us not working.” And then he walks ahead leaving me standing there, unable to argue with him.
I suck because I have feelings for him and I know it. Shitty emotional feelings. And he knows it.
Tathan walks me to my door and see’s Oliver waiting for me, growling at him. “Why does your dog hate me?”
“He doesn’t like men.”
“But he doesn’t growl at Zane.”
“Zane’s gay and Oliver feels he is of the female species so there’s no challenge from him.” I pick up Oliver so he won’t attack Tathan. “He protects me from men.”
“Protects you from me?”
I watch his face as I reply, every single reaction but he gives me little to go on, brown eyes searching mine. “Yes.” I answer. “He knows you’re trouble.”
; “I’m not trouble.” He blinks slowly. “I’m the nice guy who’s taking your best friend’s photos for free, in exchange for a date with a girl I can’t stop thinking about.”
He smiles as he backs away toward his own door. “Night.”
“Night.” When I close the door, I sink down to sit on the floor and hold Oliver up so our faces are inline. “What did I just agree to?”
He wiggles.
I definitely need something to take my mind off everything. The water gleams below my feet as I stand at the edge of the tile, the morning sun, so clear and calm. It’s my favorite time of the day to do laps. It’s when the sun first hits the water and gives it that sparkle. I stare at it for a while admiring the way there’s not a wave in site, just clear glass like water. I stretch my arms and legs, inhale deeply and then dive down feeling weightless immediately.
There’s something definitely surreal about swimming laps, the physicality of it alone wakes up parts of your body you didn’t know existed. The sense of weightlessness as you push and push your body to go faster, dig deeper, virtually glide through the water like a streamlined torpedo helps me escape to another world where the only sounds are my own for that solitary hour of almost horizontally free-falling through another dimension. I don’t want this feeling to end but I know that it has to and then the drudgery of my day begins. It’s like this every morning, just me in my own water-filled world all alone, free of responsibilities but am always forced to return to the land of the living, the land of bills and responsibilities and a dead-end job that I need to do something about. But for now, I’m sinking effortlessly down into my aqueous world and will relish the feeling of the next sixty minutes.
I live for this sensation. It’s the only strength I know these days and makes me feel confident even if it is only long enough to give me the serenity to forget the past.
“What’s the harm in one date with him?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that one date,” I say after shoving a donut in my mouth. It’s a good fucking thing I still swim five days a week or I’d be huge by now after the sugar I’ve consumed the last two weeks. “If I go on one date, he’s going to want more.”