He interrupts me by simply smiling. I am now mush. Oh wow. Yup, I am a total girl right now. "So who told you I don't do private messages?"
"Well, a newfound friend from Chatz. She kind of had to explain the whole setup to me," I confess.
He lets out a breath, and I put my pencil back to the paper. "Well, your friend is right, I don't do private messages. Ever. I just don't see the point. If I just want to fuck and they just want to fuck, why be so private about it? I mean, why do we have to kid ourselves into thinking it's something special and private? If I leave with a girl, then people already know that we are about to go hook up, so why hide it even in the beginning?"
"Oh," is all I can muster up. He just sits quietly. I'm not so much in the mood for Britney anymore, so I pick up my iPod and hand it to him. That's as private as you can get with me. Why shouldn't I be a little more giving? He just told me that he doesn't do private anything, and yet he did with me.
He looks me in the eyes and back down at the device in my hand. "You sure?" He looks a little leery.
"Go ahead, whatever you want to listen to." This is my own little challenge to see what he's into. He takes it and begins scrolling through my large collection. Looking impressed he hits a button, and "Girls and Boys" from Good Charlotte begins to fill the air. I snort. Of course he would pick a song that talks about how guys like girls who fake and made of plastic, but who cares as long as they are gorgeous and are willing to put out.
"What?" He laughs and shrugs.
I shake my head and mumble, "I bet you do." He squints his eyes and looks completely serious for a moment but before he can open his mouth I continue "I saw the girls at the bar, total plastic bimbos, especially the ones you seemed to be, for lack of better words, really chatty with." Oh, I got him on that one.
His jaw snaps open "Oh I see. You think you know me by one measly song choice and the fact that I was talking to a few women in a chat room? How fair is that?"
Great, now I feel like crap. He goes on, "… and if you listen to the song you'd hear how girls will take whatever they can get from a guy and don't give a shit about them. Did you ever stop to think that maybe those girls were using me?" Whoa! That came out of nowhere! "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to jump on you like that. I don't know why I did."
"I'm sorry I assumed," I say, finish the drawing, and pack up. He's rubbing his face with his hands like he's exasperated. "Thank you for staying long enough to let me finish, and again sorry I said anything."
"Look, I don't talk about myself much, and people assume way too much about me. They have my whole life, but it wasn't right of me to jump down your throat." He drops his head and shakes it for a moment. I start to walk for the door, and he's quickly at my back.
"Can I help you?" I ask him, without turning around. He lightly touches my elbow and chills shoot through me. My body is hit with a wild fire. I slowly turn to face him. Yep, mush. He's so close I can feel his breath on my face. He puts his hands on the door jamb next to both sides of my face and leans into me, but avoids touching me.
With his eyes closed, he says, "I don't know. Can you?"
It takes all the strength I have not to wrap myself around him. He's so close I can feel him, smell him, and almost taste him. He finally unpins me from the wall, dropping his hands to his sides, and I practically run out the door. Surprisingly, my legs don't give out. Once I am down the hall a little way I round the corner and lean against the cool brick. Breathless.
Holy shit! What was that? One minute he's kind and intriguing, then he's cocky and snapping at me, and then he was all over me. If I had stayed there one minute longer, would he have kissed me? I guess I'll never know now. I let out the largest sigh of my life once I reach my car. I climb in and pull out my phone to text Erin: You busy?
Almost immediately she answers: "Nope, free as a bird, what ya got in mind?" God as little time as I have known this girl, I feel like she's my lifesaver.
I text back: "My place, bring wine…or something stronger!"
She replies with a thumbs-up emoticon.
Back at my studio, I plop down on the red couch and put my head in my hands. My phone vibrates, alerting me to a message: 1 Private Message. No way can it be him! There's no way after what had happened. I click it to open the message:
Big_Ben: I am once again sorry for the way I acted; I hope you can forgive me.
I'm awestruck. This is one of the most confusing guys I have ever met. Not that I have met many, but damn, he's messing with my head. Why does it matter? I'll probably never be forced to see him again. I don't know if that pleases me or depresses me.
Punky_Painter: You don't have to apologize. It seems irrelevant, considering we won't have to see each other again.
Big_Ben: Don't be so sure of that.
And that's how I am going to leave it, because frankly he kind of scares the crap out of me with those whiplash mood swings. And thank God for Erin knocking on my door to break this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I rush to the door and before I even open it, I am yelling, "You are never going to believe who was the model in my class..." and I open the door to find HIM standing there.
Silence quickly overcomes me.
"So who was this model from your class?" He asks with his head tipped down, looking at me through dark hooded eyelashes.
Still in a mind slump, all I can think of is, "Um…how did you get my address?"
He looks to his left down the hall and Erin comes into view. What the hell? She steps into my apartment and shrugs in an apologetic way, not too convincingly, I might add.
Erin the traitor finally speaks after a moment. "Look, he ran into me when I was leaving campus and stopped me. He knew me from Chatz and he looked a little rough so when he asked me if he could ask a question, I couldn't say no," she explains. Oh, yes you very damn well could!
"So you showed him where I lived? What if he's a serial killer or a rapist?" I gasp. I am freaking out at this point. I am a really private person and this oversteps all the security issues I have with guys since the 'incident'. I look from him to her and I try to figure out what the hell I am going to do. Flee. I practically run to my bathroom and close the door.
"Tess!" Erin yells from the other side of the door. "What are you doing?" I can imagine her throwing her arms up in the air and pacing the floor, but what I can't imagine is him standing in my home, looking at my personal stuff…god my paintings.
"Is he still out there?" I ask, while pinching the bridge of my nose.
I hear a masculine groan and, "Yeah I am."
"Why?"
A knock on the door makes me fall back slightly. Wow I didn't even notice I was standing so close to the door...
"Can we talk?"
"Go ahead." I throw my hands up over my head, but he obviously can't see that.
He turns the knob. DAMN IT! I forgot to lock the door behind me! I lunge at the door, but he's already stepping in before I reach it. Crap.
"Look, I felt really bad the way we left things. Hell, I don't even know why I am really here. This is really unlike me, but I couldn't get through the night before I could at least try and explain myself…or understand this myself..." He motions the space between us but mumbles the last part under his breath.
I untangle my arms from around my chest and step back toward the shower, giving him room to enter. Are we seriously having a conversation in my bathroom? "Go ahead." I gesture with my hand.
He looks like he's about to speak when I throw my hands to my mouth. "Erin!" He whips his head back to the door as I come to realize my new best friend is in my living room probably feeling used and abandoned, maybe imagining some dirty bathroom scene.
I streak past Ben and rush out to the small living space, but instead I run right into Erin. Umph! We tumble to the floor and start laughing.
"Were you listening through the door?" I ask her, attempting to look serious.
She bats her eyes and pouts, "But whatever do you mean?" in her best Southern belle voice
, while fanning herself with her hand.
"Yeah, yeah, save it, traitor," I accuse her, while standing up and offering her my hand to help her up.
She straightens her shirt and grabs her bag off my counter. "Well, now that you have company, I guess I'll be going." She actually winks at me.
"What do you mean, you're leaving?" I yank her to the side and get really up close and personal with her ear. "What am I supposed to do? I don't know why he's here or what he has planned and you're seriously going to leave me here ALONE?" I yank on her arm a little.
I'll admit I am excited and frankly a little giddy about being alone with him, but I am still having a hard time believing it, and believing what I might do when it happens. But, then again, what did almost happen that night was in a very crowded space…so what's the difference? Guess I am about to find out.
It's her turn to get a little too close, and all she has to say is, "bow-chicka-wow-wow." While gyrating her hips ever so slightly. My face goes white… or should I say whiter.
"We can talk later if you'd prefer. I didn't mean to ruin any plans you had for the evening. I wasn't thinking." Ben steps forward and puts his hands in his jeans pockets, accentuating his toned arms. But it's the look on his face that I can't get over. His features are hard but soft at the same time. He looks derailed and unsure of himself. I find this odd, considering he has been nothing but upfront and pushy. I take notice of his caramel mocha eyes. They are the most amazing and delicious set of eyes I have seen…Yeah, I am a coffee addict, aren't I? Then again I think I just found my new addiction…
Erin steps to the door. "No, you two obviously have some tension that needs to be resolved. I don't know what it is and I am sure that's why I was invited over tonight…to find out." She elevates her voice when she says I and invited to make her point…what is her point? She volunteers to leave even when Ben offered to take a rain check. I don't know if I want to hug her or slap her. I am about to protest, but she's out the door. I am alone with him. Double crap.
I slowly turn to see him leaning against my small counter. His tall lean body makes my studio apartment look even more minuscule. He's still wearing his fitted light gray t-shirt and the way he's standing, I can see every ripple of his tight chest and his lean abs. I unconsciously lick my lips. He straightens up and walks towards me. I can feel my breath quicken and my face flush and the next thing I know his arms are around me and I am being lowered onto my couch…what the…
"Hey, you OK? You got really pale and you started to slump against the door like you were passing out."
Yeah, I can die now from embarrassment. "Oh, I am fine. I'm probably just hungry and it's really hot it here. Are you hot?" I start to ramble. Not good.
"No, I am cool. Want me to grab you something from the kitchen?" He asks me while he's already walking away. "A banana would probably be good for you."
Food does sound really good right about now, so I nod. He's back to my side right away, handing me the banana. I begin peeling it back, and catch him staring at me as I begin to take a bite.
"What?" I ask with a mouthful.
He looks back at me with a small smile. "Oh nothing." And then I put it together... Yeah. ha ha, funny. I'm eating a banana. I roll my eyes and finish.
"What? Have something against bananas?" I nudge his shoulder with my own. He lets out a light laugh and shakes his head.
"So what did you need to talk to me about that made you hound my friend and bust out your inner stalker to find my apartment?" I ask.
His head falls to the back of my sofa and looks at me. "Well, like I said I wanted to apologize for my behavior back at the school. I had no reason to snap at you the way I did and then hold you against your will." Oh, believe me, it wasn't against my will. In fact it took all of my willpower not to pounce on him right then and there!
"Well, I guess I should apologize for not properly introducing myself…Tess." I hold out my hand this time and he takes it. "Ben. Ben Mitchell. It's nice to meet you, Tess."
He leaves his hand in mine and I don't mind in the slightest. It's giving me the chills yet my body is on fire. He's rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand and the fire ignites low in my belly, causing my muscles to clench in a way I didn't know was possible. I look up into his eyes and they are heavy and hooded. He looks as though he's sad.
"What's wrong?" Did I say or do something to upset him? I couldn't have, I've said no more than a sentence. I take my hand from his and I stand. Confused, he looks up at me and watches me walk across the room to my stereo dock. I plug in my iPod. Music seems to be the gateway with this man and if I have a chance of him opening up to me, this might just do the trick.
"My choice this time," I say with a sly smile. I turn my back to him, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I scroll through my music collection and I settle on the first song that pops up: "Amaryllis," by Shinedown. The smooth opening of "stay a while now…" starts up, and I suppose it's fitting, because I really do want him to stay.
I turn around to find him staring at me, although this time I'm not fearful. Music has this effect on me; it's what gives me my confidence. Like how most people feel when they drink alcohol. "Can I get you anything to drink? I'm not sure how much I have." I walk to my fridge and open it, bending over to inspect the mostly bare shelves.
"I have Pepsi, cranberry juice, and a little wine left..." I have to stand to look at him so I can get an answer and when I do he's right there. He has got to stop doing that!
"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, his voice low.
"Yeah, you kind of say that a lot, you know?" I say with a huff.
"I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do or say around you, it's the craziest feeling. My gut says to try and get in your pants, but then I know that'll ruin whatever it is we have or may have. Then I get lost in my thoughts." Oh God, he rambles when he's nervous, too!
I just look at his gorgeous face and wait to see if he's finished. Well, he's stopped talking. He also dropped his head into his hands and now he looks a little lost. Frankly, so do I.
"Hey, I know exactly how you're feeling," I admit.
He looks down at me and waits for me to carry on. "I get it. OK, I am going to tell you something that I don't openly talk about and I hope it doesn't change the way you see me, not that I know how you see me, that is if you see me at all."
"I. See. You." He says each word slowly and individually. He's got my head in his hands and he's within kissing distance now. I freak and blurt it out, before it goes any further.
"I'm a virgin!" Yeah, that came out a little too forced. God, kill me now.
His sexy eyes widen and he takes a step back. No wait, come back!
He turns his back to me for a second before looking back at me. "What?" he asks in disbelief.
"I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Like I was assuming this was going to go any further, but you're the first guy that I have ever felt the need to tell and I know it came out all wrong and I am rambling again, I am so sorry." Shut up.
A new song comes on. He takes my hand and leads me to the little open space in the center of my studio. He twirls me. No one has ever danced with me and this song isn't exactly the slowest, but I'm not complaining. He pulls my body close to his, rests his right hand on my lower back and holds out his left for me to hold out from our bodies. And we begin to sway.
"So, all these paintings. Yours?" He gestures with his head toward the room around us.
I smile and I feel a blush take over my cheeks. "Yep."
"They are really nice." He presses a little tighter.
"Thank you."
He darts his eyes and throws his head towards one of my favorites. "This one, the stack of books I really like it. I take it you like to read?"
I nod slowly. "I do. It's my escape from this teeny apartment and small life."
He frowns a little. "Yes you do have a small place here, don't you? But I doubt your life is anything but small."
Before I can rep
ly he notices something in the corner by my music station. He drops his grip on my lower back, which disappoints me a little. But he doesn't let go of my hand. Instead he's leading me over to his target in sight. What the hell does he see? He stops us in the corner and he's looking at the wall behind my dock and stacks of CDs.
Deep in thought, he looks from the wall to me. "These photos," he points to the wall. "You took them?" Oh, he noticed my slightly obscene collection of concert photos that I took...without permission...I know, I know, all the signs at every show say no cameras, but how can I resist? I love taking photographs of the musicians and the crowd. To capture that feeling in the moment; their high if you will. So if that means sticking my camera in my bra or down my pants, I'll do it! It's not like I can get one of those fancy "press" badges or "All Access" passes and bring my Canon into the venue. That's the dream.
"Yeah, I kinda had to sneak my camera into these places. My dream is to get in with my Canon, to get some really great shots," I admit.
His expression is soft and sexy as hell. "I think I have been to all of these shows."
I look up into his liquid caramel eyes. "Really? That's kind of a coincidence and I have never seen you at a single one."
He shrugs his shoulders and straightens his back. "That's because I go to the shows for work."
"Seriously?" I know my eyes must look like they are going to pop right out my little head; I am stunned and highly turned on.
"You know the music magazine Tones?" he asks.
I bolt to my coffee table, bend over to the shelf underneath and grab a stack of, like, ten magazines. "Uh, yeah! I do!" and I drop them next to my music dock.
He chuckles. "So I see where all of our Seattle sales have gone to."
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