Page 8 of Stoker's Serenity

He smiled like the cat that’d eaten the canary and murmured, “You’re a beautiful woman. I find it hard to believe you don’t have to practically beat guys off with a stick.”

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it and sighed, “I think we know what type of guys I attract.” I winced, thinking back on being trapped in that press of bodies with their groping hands.

“Shit, I was hoping not to go back to that,” he said, and sighed unhappily.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine after a long hot shower.”

He nodded slowly, “You should go take one, get comfortable; I can pour the coffee when it’s done.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I laughed. “Seems a bit rude to shower with a new guest in the apartment.”

“Even when the guest insists?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Um, I should give you your shirt back at the very least,” I murmured.

He shook his head. “It’s yours. Use it as a nightshirt or something. No selling it now.”

“Oh, this is your band?” I asked, pulling it out from my body and staring down at the logo on the front.

“It is.”

I peered at it and tried to recollect when they’d gone on. I mean, I could picture the logo on the front of the drum set, but I couldn’t for the life of me recall seeing him on stage. I confessed as much and his lips split into a wide grin.

“It’s okay, it was a battle of the bands, and a lot were up there tonight leading up to the main act. We were the third on stage.”

“Oh, we got there late, like arrived in the middle of your set.”

“See, that explains it. Mystery solved.”

“I forgot all about the ‘battle of the bands’ lead up, you didn’t even get to stay to find out if you won?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’m just happy to play my music and have people listen. I don’t care about bragging rights or ego rushes.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But, nothing, the guys’ll let me know.”

I fell silent, guilt nibbling at the edges of my soul, and I hated that I’d pulled him away.

“Hey.”

I chewed my bottom lip and let my eyes flick from their fixed position on my table to his dark eyes.

“I don’t go anywhere I don’t want to go and I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

I smiled a bit at that and asked lightly, “Like, ever?”

He shrugged his shoulders and answered, “For the most part.”

“Must be nice,” I conceded.

“Sometimes. Sometimes, like with anything else, it’s a struggle to be free and stay free.”

“I can relate to that for sure.”

The coffee maker gurgling and dribbling into its carafe filled the deep silence between us. It was dimly lit in my little apartment, the salt lamp by the bed and the single light over the sink in my kitchen casting a muted golden glow to beat back the deep night outside. The air conditioning hummed quietly, but it was still warm in here as the gulf between us slowly filled with unspoken attraction. It was palpable, like you could reach out and touch it like a living thing, just there, shimmering invisible between us.

“I really hope you’ll call me,” he said suddenly, but it didn’t break the spell.

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