Authors: Vanessa Black
He said all of this in a calm and collected manner, his voice seemingly matter-of-fact.
Nevertheless, he was unable to hide the probably ever present hurt and rejection which he seemed in a habit of repressing, and which must have accompanied him his entire life.
I kept quiet, sensing that he had surprised himself by sharing such a significant detail of his personal life with me, clearly not having intended to do so, and that he felt embarrassed about the feelings he must know had shown, even though he had tried to act blasé about the whole matter.
Trying to give him the emotional space he needed, while at the same time feeling for him, and wishing to convey my sympathy, I managed to refrain from reaching out to him, tucking my hands carefully under the bedspread to keep from slipping up.
Two words, however, needed to be spoken. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend I hadn’t heard a word he had said. Keeping my voice as untainted by pity as I could muster, I looked into his eyes, and said in a soft solemn voice, “I’m sorry.”
Even though he could probably tell that I felt a bit sorry for him, since I wasn’t very good at hiding my true emotions, he seemed genuinely grateful that I hadn’t made a huge deal out of it.
Clearing his throat quietly, he managed to say, “Thank you” in good grace. Then he picked up where he had left off before I had interrupted him, and said,
“As I was trying to say before … I would like you to meet someone … a former professor … and I would like to ask you to accompany me to his house. I realize this is a lot to ask, since I’m a complete stranger to you, asking you to accompany me to God knows where. But I swear, I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you either!”
“So, basically you’re saying you won’t give me any answers unless or until I accompany you to Professor ‘whatever his name is’, correct?” I inquired ― my tone severe.
I couldn’t believe he was trying to worm his way out of having to explain, or attempting to put off answering my question, which was just as bad.
Nothing he had to say could warrant the fuss he was making. The suspense was already killing me. And now he was increasing it by delaying. By the time I found out what it was he hadn’t wanted to tell me, I would probably laugh myself silly at the inconsequence of the matter.
“Yes … that is ― no. I promised I would give you an answer, and I stand by my promises. But in the event that you would consider accompanying me to Professor
Adam Wright’s
home,
”
he emphasized the professor’s name for my benefit, “I would like your consent to hold off further discussion on the subject until we can talk to him.”
“Why?” I persisted stubbornly.
I could tell by his expression that he was about to reply something equally stubborn that in no way related to what I’d just asked.
“Uh-uh, forget it!” I continued before he even had a chance to open his mouth.
“If you want me to agree to
anything
, then this is it; this is the one question I need an answer to right away! That’s the deal. Tell me why, and if your answer’s reasonable, I won’t argue anymore.”
“That’ll be the day,” Aaron muttered under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear.
“I beg your pardon?” I growled, letting him know he was on dangerous ground.
“Okay, sorry … don’t get all worked up! Fine, I’ll tell you why if you promise not to run screaming from the room and have me committed.” Despite his seemingly humorous allusion to having him committed, his voice was dead serious.
“Why would I have you committed?” I asked carefully, no trace of humor in my voice.
“Because you won’t believe a word I tell you, and you’ll have no choice but to believe that I’m crazy and need help; the kind of help only provided by straitjackets and comfy little cells!” Aaron Chambers said, looking very serious, and making me consider every word he had said before coming to a decision.
“Okay, deal,” I said, “I won’t have you committed ― even if I come to the conclusion that you’re completely off your rocker ― if you tell me, truthfully, why it’s so important to see this professor.”
“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand to me so that we could close the deal. Before I could clasp his hand, though, he pulled it back slightly, saying:
“Wait … I just thought … I don’t remember your name. I think it bad luck to close a deal with someone whose name you don’t know. So … what’s your name again?”
Trying not to let on that I felt slightly wounded by the fact that I wasn’t important enough for him to have remembered the name I’d given at our first meeting, I gave him a look saying he better remember it from now on, and then said:
“Persephone Jones ― Persephone.”
“Aaron,” he said simply.
Aaron’s mouth turned up at the corners at my expression; obviously, he had gathered much more from my face than I’d wanted to show. Holding out his right hand to me once more, I reached out with my own to seal the agreement.
The moment our hands met, skin touching skin, an electric shock coursed through my body. Yanking my hand out of his grasp at the same time as he wrenched back his, I looked up into the startled blue eyes of Aaron, who looked just as shocked ― in the literal sense of the word ― as I felt.
A
aron and I just stared at each other, neither of us knowing exactly what to say about what had just happened between us.
Finally, evidently having had enough time to recover, Aaron turned around and walked to his dresser which stood against the wall next to the entrance, opened a drawer and took out a large, fluffy, light blue towel. He handed it to me.
“Here, if you’re up for it you can clean up in there before we talk,” he said, pointing to something behind my back.
Turning around, I saw a door I hadn’t noticed before from my position on the bed. The door stood slightly ajar, and I could make out many white tiles and the corner of a shower.
“You have your own bathroom?” I asked in a rather jealous tone.
Obviously trying hard not to laugh or look too smug, Aaron carefully controlled his expression and then said:
“Yeah, I have my own bathroom.”
“Wait ‘til you see the Jacuzzi in the corner,” he added after a moment, thereby completely countermanding his earlier attempt at not being smug.
I unsuccessfully tried to hide my frown as I took the towel from him, got up very slowly, and started to gauge my ability to stand on my own. My knees no longer seemed to be made of jelly, and the room didn’t start spinning.
Feeling I would be okay if I just took it slowly, I walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. Even if I had another fainting spell, I would rather lie on the cold tiles for hours than have Aaron find me naked on the bathroom floor.
Completely ignoring the magnificent, gigantic Jacuzzi in the left back corner of the spacious bathroom ― now was not the time to indulge ― I walked to the right back corner, hung up my towel on the hook next to the shower, and stepped into the small rectangular space, closing the see-through door behind me.
Turning the heat right up to the point where it was almost scalding hot, I left my worries behind, concentrating only on the heavenly feeling of the soothing hot water running down my maltreated body in comforting waves.
Careful to turn the temperature back down after a couple of minutes, so that I wouldn’t get dizzy from the heat, I proceeded to wash all of the grime away, shampooing my hair twice, and cursing under my breath when I realized that there was no conditioner to be found.
Of course, I realized most men probably seldom used a conditioner; that didn’t really make me feel any better about having none, though.
Getting my wet, long, thick, and incredibly tangled hair brushed, would turn out to be a nightmare now!
Maybe I ought to just cut it, and save myself the trouble and frustration,
I thought grumpily. I was in a bit of a bad mood with everything that was happening of late.
Having finished my shower, I opened the shower door ― shivering slightly in the much cooler air of the room ― grabbed my towel from the hook, and retreated swiftly to my haven of hot steam. After I dried myself off and dabbed at my wet hair with my towel, I stepped from the shower, realizing only now ― now that I needed it ― that I had no fresh change of clothes.
Slinging the towel around my naked body, letting it overlap in front, and tucking the corner of it under the rim of the towel above my left breast, I took the drier from a shelf next to the mirror above the sink. Plugging it in the socket, I started to clear away the haze that clung to the mirror.
After carefully evaluating my image, trying to find out if I looked decent enough to be seen by Aaron with only a towel covering my otherwise naked body, I was eventually satisfied that my most private parts were all hidden from view. After all, it wasn’t necessary to open the door all the way in order to talk to him; I would just have a small part of me showing and keep the rest of my body out of view behind the door.
Opening the door to the main room, I slowly sidled to the left, cautiously peering around the door, the left half of my carefully covered body the only part in plain view.
I nearly jumped when I found myself face to face with a completely bewildered Aaron, who had seemingly chosen that precise moment to knock on the door and ask me if I had everything I needed.
Though it was more than apparent that I indeed did
not
have everything I needed, I decided to state the obvious, if only to make him snap out of his motionless state: for he was standing opposite me, his body frozen in place. He was gazing at my half-naked, damp-haired appearance, his eyes glued to a spot on the left side of my chest.
“Um,” I muttered uncertainly, feeling very self-conscious being scrutinized so openly by this most gorgeous of men, and already wondering if he could detect all the little imperfections I myself was constantly aware of.
My cheeks growing hotter by the minute, I managed to let him know I would need some clothes, before swiftly retreating and closing the door on his now equally embarrassed countenance.
After about ten minutes, during which I started to tackle my tangled mass of wet hair with Aaron’s comb, which was the only even remotely suited object for the task ― no hairbrush! ― a quiet, tentative knocking interrupted my strenuous efforts.
Quickly checking that my towel was still slung correctly ― and securely ― around my body, I walked to the door and opened it only enough to peek through it, my neck craning around the door while the rest of my body remained fully hidden behind it.
By the expression on his face, it was apparent that Aaron was well aware of having behaved improperly earlier, staring at me in such a rude manner ― and just as aware of the fact that I had now completely hidden my body behind the door, escaping his gaze.
“Ah … I went through my drawers, and I picked out … these for you. I hope they fit … well enough,” he said uncomfortably, holding a bundle of clothing out to me, not mentioning his behavior in any way nor apologizing for being rude.
Maybe he’s too embarrassed to mention it,
I thought to myself, not feeling sorry at all that he hadn’t brought up the subject; I didn’t want it mentioned either!
Taking the bundle of clothes, I mumbled my appreciation ― though secretly thinking I would probably look dreadful in them ― and closed and relocked the door. Setting the bundle on top of the seat cushion of a combination bench laundry chest that sat against the wall between the Jacuzzi and the large sink, I started sifting through the pieces, searching for underwear of any kind, and hoping fervently that he hadn’t brought me boxer shorts.
When I recognized the unmistakable black lace of sexy underwear peeking out from under the pile, I dug through the clothing with a sinking feeling, finally holding out the black bra and slip in front of me. They were even my size! Well not a hundred percent, but they would fit well enough.
It was a very sexy pair of underwear, sexy yet tasteful. Whoever it belonged to ― for it certainly wasn’t mine ― not only had a lot of taste, but apparently also a lot of money.
My heart sank lower with every second I stared at the undergarments. The sexy bra and slip could only mean one of two things: either Aaron had a girlfriend, fiancé, or wife ― which I seriously doubted due to the distinct impression I got of him not being the steadfast type ― or he had an easy affair … or more than one affair!
Most definitely, with the sexy kind; the kind of woman who always looked gorgeous, never wore the wrong shoes to match her outfit, always knew exactly what to say to wrap any man around her little finger, and was incredible in the sack.
All of which I was not. At least, I didn’t think I was. I felt awkward most of the time, never knew what to say, and my outfit would probably be the first to be openly criticized by society experts or journalists if I ever found myself on the red carpet.
Which, granted, would never be the case,
I thought cynically.
Not to mention that I had absolutely no experience with men. I had never been with one before, in the biblical sense, or in any sense for that matter. I felt anguished and small. And incredibly foolish!
Sure, I had probably hidden my true feelings from him very well, to the point that I had fooled him into believing my indifference toward him. And I would have done anything to fool myself! For nothing could feel worse than wanting so badly to be with someone who would rather be with anyone else!
But I couldn’t fool myself. It was the one thing I was completely unable to do!
And even though I hadn’t let him see how much I yearned for him ― for which I was profoundly grateful at the moment ― I felt embarrassed for feeling this way about a man who didn’t feel the same way about me and would never deem me sexy enough to really tempt him.
It was true that he had wanted me; we had kissed, after all. And he had carried me to his room that first night when I had been unconscious, obviously intending to deepen our connection after I came to.
But to me that didn’t mean that he was really interested in me, it only meant that he was a male, driven by hormones and unable to control his … urges … and I had been conveniently present. For me, that was all there was to it. Given the choice among many women, he would never choose me!
I would have given anything to be able to erase the last hour. Before I had awoken in his bed, I had only felt an incredibly strong physical attraction toward him. Then, things had suddenly begun to get complicated.
After our little ‘misunderstanding’ I had seen a side to him I hadn’t expected to see … a vulnerable side. Feelings he hadn’t meant for me to see … hidden behind a careful façade that had started to crumble, revealing what had presumably been buried a long time ago … forbidden to surface.
It was that forbidden side to him which held the most allure for me. Suddenly, I wanted more than anything to see more of his true self, to get to the bottom of the mystery he presented to me.
The small glimpse of true emotions that had seeped through the façade had started to reveal the person behind all the cruelty, disrespect and inconsiderate behavior; it had started to make me feel … something … for him.
When he had acted indifferent about never having been loved by his parents, the hurt I had nonetheless been able to see behind his eyes had made me want to hold and soothe him.
Finally, I was able to understand his behavior; though still inappropriate, and certainly inexcusable, I could understand how he could have turned out this way, never having felt loved or appreciated by his parents. My heart had reached out to his, had ached for him; but I hadn’t dared show it!