She flies with her own wings
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Authors: Annie Stone
ANNIE STONE
She flies with her own wings
A very steamy romance
Copyright
©
2015 Annie Stone
Translated by Melanie Anderson
Edited by Chelsea Kuhel (madisonseidler.com)
Cover image: shutterstock.com / Daniel M. Nagy
Contact:
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without my written permission, except of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.
For you
This must be the right place. I look up at the building. Not exactly the best of areas, but the house seems to be in good condition. I check the house number again. It’s the right place. I enter the building and press the intercom.
“Yes?”
“I’m Thea. I have an appointment to view the room,” I say.
“Take the elevator to the sixth floor,” the voice replies. I hear the buzzer, and the door opens automatically.
On the sixth floor, I find myself looking around and wondering which door to choose, when suddenly one of them opens, and a man stands in the doorway. And not just any man. A hot one. For a moment I’m not sure what to do. My brain ceases to function for a few seconds. He’s tall, has broad shoulders, and slim hips. His black t-shirt shows off a muscular chest and defined abdominals. His dark blond, slightly tousled hair looks as if he’s just got out of bed. Green eyes and kissable lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a good-looking man. He looks around my age, so 28-ish. Whatever, hot.
He smiles and sticks out his hand.
“You must be Thea. I’m Tom.”
I’m still in a bit of a daze until I remember I’m supposed to shake an outstretched hand. I take a few steps towards him and put my hand in his. It’s warm, firm, and perfect. I try to smile but somehow can’t. He looks at me, amused. I’m convinced he’s secretly laughing at me, and I begin to feel my cheeks flushing. I hate people making fun of me. Sure, I like laughing or even being laughable, but right now I’m feeling cornered and trapped. This is so not a good start.
He holds the door open for me, and for a moment I consider how rude it would be to simply turn around and go. I’m starting to say that I don’t think this is a good idea when he lays his hand on the small of my back and gently pushes me through the doorway.
I’m about to protest when I catch sight of the open kitchen, dining, and living areas, and I’m lost for words. Bare brick walls, hardwood floors, and cream-coloured beams. The kitchen units are anthracite, and the furniture is a dark wood with deep, chocolate-colored sofas. On the other side of this dreamy living area is a spacious patio covered in plants. Awesome that a flat like this even exists. This is beyond my wildest dreams. I’m still a little speechless and dumbstruck, and that doesn’t happen to me very often.
“Impressed?” Tom asks. His mysterious amused smile is back. He’s laughing at me again, but this time I just don’t care because I’m too busy being dazzled.
I nod and try to reply, but nothing comes out. “Incredible,” I finally manage to blurt out.
Now he laughs out loud.
“Come on, I’ll show you the room.”
I follow him as he leads me into a light and spacious room. There’s a bed in the middle covered with light linens. The walls are white and accented with dusky pink and grey, and the floors are also hardwood. There’s a desk and a couch, bookshelves and charcoal sketches hanging on the walls. Studies of the human form, a nude with her back to the viewer, her thick hair tied in a loose knot, a couple in an intimate embrace, a face framed by hands adorn the walls. Yet again, I’m at a loss for words. Even though these images aren’t very revealing, they’re incredibly sensual.
Tom ushers me into the bathroom decorated with light tiles. Unbelievable that such prettiness does exist. Behind the next door is the answer to every woman’s prayer: a walk-in closet. I can’t begin to wrap my mind around it. I’m in real estate heaven. Any misgivings I had about viewing the condo or Tom’s character are forgotten. I don’t even know who else lives here. Nor do I care, I just want in. That room is mine. It screams my name. Really. I feel it instinctively.
I suddenly come to my senses and realize I don’t have any say in the matter. He does. It’s not my decision to make. It’s his. Now I’m beginning to worry I haven’t made the best impression, and I wonder what I can do to rectify the situation.
“Sorry, I’m just speechless, this place is breath-taking.” I smile at him, keeping eye contact. I try not to let his appearance distract me. Wait, what did he just say?
I blink uncomprehendingly.
“There are three of us,” he says again, “up until now the fourth room has always been a spare because we’ve never met anyone suitable. The flat’s amazing, and the rent is affordable.”
“It is amazing,” I breathe.
He shrugs. “A couple of other people have seen it, but like I said they weren’t really suitable.”
I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to interpret this information. But…I just want in! Badly, so I really don’t care.
“I’m low-maintenance, have a job, don’t have a lot of friends, so you don’t have to worry about random people hanging around all the time,” I say.
“Sounds good,” he grins, “if you tell me you can cook, the place is yours.”
Is he kidding?
“I’d lie about my cooking skills if it meant I could live here, but as it happens, I don’t have to. I’m a pretty good cook as it is.”
“Perfect! I have a good feeling about you. If you want you can sign the contract now and move in right away.”
This is it…I’ve had to wade through 67-odd rooms to find this dream set-up. If there is a catch, I’m past caring. I have to move out of my place and have run out of options. Moving in here is the only option I have left and besides, what’s the worst that can happen?
We sit at the dining table, and he slides the contract across to me. I scan it, find nothing out of the ordinary, and sign at the bottom. Done. I promise myself a victory dance as soon as I leave and am out of sight. Doing it here might not go down well, as I should work on appearing saner than I possibly am.
“As I said, you can move in immediately if you want. Here are the keys, and the door code is 6459,” he says, smiling.
As I’m leaving my new home, I tell him I’ll be moving in on Saturday.
Incredible, brilliant, awesome! What else is there to say? I feel kind of…I don’t know what to say, what to think, what to feel. Can’t really put my finger on it, but it feels like … intoxication. That’s it; I’m intoxicated.
As soon as I hit the ground floor I’m doing my victory dance and stop suddenly as I hear laughter somewhere behind me. Blushing furiously, I am walking away as fast as I can without watching anyone, my head down.
My roommate, Lacey, tosses me a dirty look as she sits at the kitchen table.
“I hope you’ve found something finally.”
Isn’t she just a delight? The strange thing is she is, or was. We lived together for four years and had great times until she met a man. She wanted him to move in, and I was okay with it until he told her she couldn’t rely on him to be faithful if I was always going to wander around, my bare backside on display.
It did happen, unfortunately. I didn’t know he was there as I got out of the shower, dried myself off, and wandered into my room, naked, as Lacey and I had done all the time. But now he was there, and no matter how many times I had apologized to Lacey, tried to explain that it hadn’t been deliberate or that I wasn’t attracted to her boyfriend, nothing would change her mind. The green-eyed monster had settled in and wrecked our friendship.
“I’m moving out on Saturday,” I reply and go to my room. I have no desire whatsoever to have a conversation with her.
“Thea, wait.” I stop but don’t turn around.
“I...,” she starts.
“It’s ok, Lacey,” I say.
“How can you just throw our friendship away like this?” I hear her sniff behind me.
Excuse me? The look I’m giving her is full of disdain.
“Me? I’m not the one throwing my friend out because her douchebag boyfriend can’t keep his dick in his pants.”
Ah yes, did I forget to mention that bit? After seeing me come out of the shower he got a hard-on and tried to get me into bed.
“I never thought you’d steal a man away from me!” she screams.
We had this conversation over and over again, but it’s just ridiculous. “You know what, Lacey? Let’s just agree the last four years were a farce. Obviously we were never really friends if you can take the word of a man you’ve known for three months over mine.”
I can see I’ve hit a nerve. “He’s my first boyfriend...”
I know this. “And I really don’t get how you think that justifies your behavior,” I reply nonetheless.
She pushes an invisible strand of hair out of her face. A sure sign she’s nervous. “You’re hot, Thea, guys like you. Nobody ever took any notice of me when you were around. Is it really too much to ask for one guy, just one, to like me more than you?”
“It’s not too much to ask,” I sigh, “but you could do so much better than that dick. He’s just keeping you around until something better comes along.”
“That’s not true, he loves me,” she whispers.
“Lacey, you need to wake up. Your boyfriend tried to get with me, and he’ll try with someone else.” I let her have it. I tell myself I’m doing it for her good, but maybe I’m a bit harsh? I don’t know.
“You’re just jealous because I found someone who’s good for me, and I’m not stuck in your shadow anymore. It must be hard for you not to be in the limelight especially when it’s shining on your ugly friend Lacey. You only wanted me as a friend because you thought I could never steal your thunder.”
That stings a bit, but I decide to try it one more time. “You are the only one who thinks you’re ugly. Nothing could be further from the truth. You’re beautiful, but you can’t see it because you’re so busy finding fault with yourself.”
She obviously hasn’t considered this, and her eyes fill up with tears.
“If you could see what I see, there’s no way you’d ever just settle.”
I really wish I could give Lacey some of my confidence. She’s so consumed with her hang-ups that she’s blind to what’s clear to everyone else. And it’s exactly these insecurities that are a complete turn-off for men.
“Give it a rest, Thea,” she pleads.
“You should be with someone who’s good to you, who worships the ground you walk on, who believes you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Someone who loves you and thinks you’re special. That’s what you deserve, not some pathetic asshole who belittles you.” Why do women let this happen? Why do beautiful, clever, funny women do this to themselves?
Tears are running down her face, and her bottom lip quivers.
“You count, Lacey. You’re important because you’re a person. A person who deserves love and respect, it’s that simple.”
I stand there for what feels like an age, waiting for an answer or some kind of sign she’s understood what I’ve been saying. Nothing comes.
I turn back, go to my room, and pack my things. It’s not a lot, a few books, some clothes. It all adds up to five boxes and three suitcases.
I came to San Francisco ten years ago and have never really managed settling here. I’ve lived in this furnished apartment for four years, and before that I was in student accommodations and a different apartment with a roommate. I’ve been working for a biotech company for the last two years, and before that I graduated from Berkeley with a PhD. Dr. Theodora Bennett. Not bad for a little girl from a small town in Florida, huh?
Life there was shit. The only thing that got me through it was knowing I’d get out some day. I worked hard, got good grades, got a scholarship, and was finally able to escape. Since then I’ve never looked back and have never returned to those hellish days. It took a long time and a lot of hours in therapy to get to a frame of mind where I’m okay with what happened. I still see my therapist every now and again when things get to me or I just need an objective view.
After five years she told me I was ready to face the world on my own, and she was right. I’ve learned to live with my past and accept what happened. It is what it is. And yet I still can’t quite cut the cord. She’s my security blanket. I might go months without seeing her, but I still can’t bring myself to end the sessions.
One thing that hasn’t changed is my inability to live alone. It’s like I need the feeling someone’s missing me when I’m not there. My worst nightmare is lying dead and undiscovered in my home until my corpse starts to smell. I know that sounds like I’ve thought about it too long and I should point out that it’s not a literal nightmare. It’s just a deeply-embedded fear, hence the roommates.
So onto a new roommate. I wonder if Tom has a girlfriend.
Oh for goodness sake, don’t start complicating things already
, I scold myself. Starting something with a roommate is a slippery slope. One might want more than the other and then it’s just a mess.
I start to wonder about the other two who also live there and whether they’re boys or girls. For a moment I consider the possibility of three boys and what I would do, but as I said, I’m in a bit of a tight corner. Would it be that bad if it was all boys? Not really, I’m pretty much married to my job and hardly ever at home anyway.
My cell rings. “Hi, Sam!” My only female friend in the city is Samantha Michaels. I met her in my first year at university, and you could say it was love at first sight. She’s always been there for me and I for her—the two musketeers. Then there’s Josh, our third, who we met at the induction at school.
“Thea, we going drinking?” Sam is always sunny and up for partying the night away.