Devour

by E. K. Blair

  Hiding my face in my hands as I cry, I keep apologizing. He pulls me tight against him, and I wonder what I could possibly say to excuse this breakdown. He’s going to want to know, and I don’t know what to do.

  He takes my wrists and pulls my hands away from my face, “I need you to talk to me.”

  Looking down at my lap, I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “I just . . . I got myself too worked up and had a panic attack. I know you wanted me there tonight, but I couldn’t.”

  “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

  “I was embarrassed. This has happened a few times in the past, but only Jase knows that I have these.”

  He wraps me up in his arms, and I feel horrible. I didn’t lie, but I still feel guilty.

  When I’m calmed down, he backs away and looks me in the eyes when he says, “You could’ve come to me. Jase isn’t the only one you have, you know?”

  The hurt in his eyes is too much, and I have to look away, but he lowers his head to catch my dropping eyes. “I need you to trust me enough to talk to me.” Nodding my head he continues, “I understand you and Jase, but I know how I feel about you.” He takes a moment before softly saying, “I want you to need me more than him.”

  Feeling the need to defend myself, I say, “He’s all I’ve ever had.”

  Taking my hand in his, he places it against his chest when he tells me, “You have me now too.”

  I feel myself falling for him even more when I hear the sincerity in his words. Fisting his shirt in my hand, I wrap my free arm around his neck and hug him.

  “Let’s go home,” he says into my ear, and I know that when he says home, he means his place, and I like that.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  School started back up this past week and so far, it seems that apart from my dance studios, classes should be fairly easy. Leaving my Technique Instruction lecture, I text Ryan to let him know I’m coming over a little earlier than planned since all we did was go over the syllabus.

  The other day I was looking at the matted photos that I had seen back in November and when I asked to see more, he offered to show them to me this afternoon. I have been fixated on the photo I originally saw of the curve of a woman’s back. I’ve been trying to not let my curiosity get the best of me, but I can’t help but wonder who the women are in his photos.

  When I arrive, the door is unlocked, so I let myself in. I don’t see Ryan when I enter, so I call out, “Ryan?”

  “Back in my office,” he yells.

  Walking down the hall to his home office, the door is cracked. I lightly knock before I enter.

  “Hey, babe,” he says as he leans back in his leather chair from behind his desk. “Come here.”

  I walk around his large desk as he scoots his chair back. He stretches his arms out and envelops me as I sit on his lap.

  “How were your classes today?” he asks as he brushes my hair off my shoulder.

  “Uneventful, but it’s only the first week. Nothing but going over the syllabus for the most part.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you,” he says as he brings my head down so that he can kiss me.

  I’ve been working more while Roxy rearranges the calendar to accommodate everyone’s new class schedules. When I’m not working, I have been in the studio adding choreography and rehearsing my solo. Auditions for our final production are next month, so there hasn’t been much time for Ryan and I to spend together.

  “So, don’t be mad, but . . .” I start when Ryan interrupts, “Oh, God.”

  “Just listen,” I say. “When I was on campus today I ran into Stacy Keets who works at the Henry Art Gallery. She was telling me that one of her pieces got picked up for a gallery show next month.”

  “So, you want to go?”

  “Yes, but I was thinking that you could submit one of your photos.”

  “Babe,” he says as he cocks his head to the side. “Those are just a hobby that I hardly even take seriously. I’m far from having them displayed in a gallery of all places.”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I continue, “Well, I happen to love the few photos I’ve seen. They’re a lot better than you think they are.”

  “You’re cute,” he teases.

  “I’m serious, I think that you should at least submit something and see if it gets accepted. If not, nothing lost, right?”

  “And if they are?”

  “Then you can take me as your date for the showing,” I say with a sly grin.

  “If I say I’ll think about it, will that suffice?”

  “Yep.”

  Laughing at me, he buries his head in my neck and starts nipping the curve of my shoulder, which he knows is my ticklish spot.

  Giggling uncontrollably as he playfully assaults my neck, I manage to push him away and hop off of his lap.

  “Show me all your photos so I can pick out the ones for you to consider submitting,” I tease.

  Rolling his chair back to the wooden credenza on the wall behind his desk, he slides one of the doors open and pulls out a stack of mattes.

  “Here, boss,” he says with a wink and then follows me as I start making my way to the living room.

  “Want something to drink?” he asks.

  “Yeah, anything hot.”

  Taking a seat on the couch, I cross my legs under me and make myself comfortable as I look at the first photo. It’s a black and white image of a woman’s neck and collarbone. It’s backlit so everything is black except for the outline of the curves. Flipping to the next, it’s another similar sensual photo. Then a photo of a naked woman lying on her back with her legs seductively crossed. I keep flipping, until my stomach is knotted up so tightly that I can’t look anymore.

  I set the stack face down on the coffee table and stand up.

  “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 wome
n 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 with 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 di
sconnect. 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.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  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.