I step into the fantastic shower and let the warm jets wash over me. My mind wanders to all those nights I've been at home with him; I never, not once, thought it was weird that I didn't see him anything but fully dressed. It never occurred to me that he was hiding his body. My heart hurts for him. He’s as scarred on the inside as he is on the outside. That is some scar, half of his torso is completely burned. And yeah, it looks bad, but so what? It’s a scar - he is a fine man - a scar on his chest doesn't change that.
I wish he would come back. I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. Quickly, I dry myself and put on my underwear and pyjamas while I get ready. I wonder about phoning him, but I see his phone on the bedside cabinet when I look around.
I'm drying my hair in the mirror when I see the door open in the reflection. I shut the hairdryer off and stand up to face him, so bloody relieved that he has come back.
He’s out of breath and sweating.
“I'm sorry I stormed out.” His voice is husky.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Let’s get ready and forget it happened, can we?”
“No Dec, I won’t forget it happened. I want you to listen to me. You don't need to hide anything from me - we live together. I don't want you to feel like you can't walk around with your top off if you want to in your own house,” I give a short laugh, “in fact, feel free to do that anytime you like.”
His brows draw together. “My scars don't bother you? You're not repulsed?”
“Dec, you're still you, the you before I saw them, so what if you have a scar? We all have scars. Some are harder to see than others. Some are hidden way deep. Believe me, I am anything but repulsed by you - I wish you didn't affect me the way you do - you're my landlord, and we’re friends. But yeah, you affect me, and if you think some scar, which is part of who you are, will change my mind about that, well, you don't know me as well as I thought you did.
He tilts his head and looks at me. “Are you saying...” He clears his throat. “Are you saying you're attracted to me?”
I give a short laugh. “Er yeah, I have eyes, only me and half the population.”
His eyes widen as though that's a thought that never occurred to him.
I wave my hand dismissively. “Don't worry, I can control myself. That's what vibrators are for, right?”
“Jesus.” He mutters. He puts his hands on his hips and looks down to the floor. He’s dripping with sweat that, quite frankly, I want to lick off his neck right now; I bet he tastes divine.
I need to sort this out now. “You get in the shower, we have to be ready in an hour, and I haven't even done my hair yet. We can talk about this later - right now, we have to move your career along. So hop in.”
He slowly turns and walks into the bathroom; he turns back to me before closing the door. “Thanks Blue, you're amazing, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah - get your smelly butt in the shower. I have work to do!”
He gets in the shower and I get back to my hair. I feel better that we seem to have dodged a bullet of some sorts, but I'm not stupid enough to think that this subject isn't going to raise its head again. Dec has issues, and if he wants to actually live his life, instead of just surviving it, he's going to have to face them. I'm going to help him - if it kills me, I'm going to be the one to help him. He’s always everyone else's hero, well I'm going to be his.
When he gets out of the bathroom showered again, he’s wearing boxer briefs and is buttoning up his shirt. I sigh; I guess I can't get through to him in one conversation - that was a little too much to hope for.
I grab my skirt and top that I'm going to wear and head into the bathroom to slip them on, my playlist on in the background andTeardrops on my Guitarby Taylor Swift is currently playing. Very fitting for the mood in the room.
When I come back out, he’s already dressed in dark jeans, boots and a white fitted shirt. He has his hair up in his half manbun that he likes to wear. The result of all this package put together makes my mouth go dry. He has no idea of the effect of him and what it has on women. I find that hard to believe, but I know it to be true. I mean, I kind of know the effect I have on men - I'm not stupid; I've seen it over the years. I have learnt that men have a type, for sure. Some like curvy girls, I'm not curvy, not in the sense that I'm talking about, but most of them like long hair, and boobs of any kind are usually a hit, but yeah, I can tell when a guy is looking at me and likes what he sees. I'm happy with my appearance, well, once I've spent an hour getting ready anyway. Makeup is my armour to the outside world - only a selected few get to see me with my face completely naked! The first time Dec saw me without makeup, I was self-conscious, but he just frowned at me as though he noticed something was different and told me I looked nice. I still don’t think he knows what was different about me, but the fact that he liked me without the makeup – that meant a lot.
“You look nice,” I say.
He looks up from his phone and takes in what I'm wearing. His eyes rake down my body, lingering on my legs - that I have on show tonight - and then go back up and meet my eyes.
“So do you. How long are your legs?” His voice is husky.
I give a short laugh. “Long enough.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Long enough for what?”
Is he...is heflirtingwith me? I don't say anything - I raise my eyebrow back at him in a hopefully flirty way. What goes on in this guy’s head? I thought he’d be in a foul mood - but if anything, he seems lighter. I don't get him. I can usually work people out quickly, but this guy is a closed book.
He looks at me for longer than he should, then gives his head a little shake. “Ready?”
“Yup. Ready to be my boyfriend for the night?”
