We arrived at his house, it was bare but furnished. A leather couch when we walked in and a TV mounted on the wall with an entertainment center below it. There was no wall to separate the kitchen from the living room, an island with 2 chairs sat in the middle of the kitchen, all brand new appliances, countertops, cooking utensils next to the stove, the whole nine yards, I could almost smell the packaging. He has no family pictures hung up or anything hung up for that matter, anywhere, I assume he just moved in but there are no moving boxes to support it.
He headed into the kitchen, where I followed and took a seat on the island. He pulled out a water from the fridge to offer me which I took, alcohol is extremely dehydrating, so I wound up taking a second bottle. "So... what do you do Miss Emma?" I explain how I'm a dermatologist at a hospital in the city, I would work closer to home but it's less pay and one of the worst-rated hospitals in the area. We talked for a bit, and by the time I hit my third bottle of water, he was already making something on the stove, I was so lost in talking I didn't bother asking what he was making.
Eventually, there was a plate of spaghetti sitting in front of me, he put the pot in the sink and sat next to me, eating in silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, which I liked, but a comforting silence with an at-home feeling. He looked at me and chuckled, "What?" I asked, without saying anything he put his finger up to the corner of my mouth and wiped, "You had sauce on your face," we made eye contact but he quickly broke it to get up to grab our plates. I hadn't noticed I had already finished eating. He finished washing the dishes before standing in front of me.
"So what, are you afraid to fall in love with someone?" That was his first question come on. "To fall in love you must have feelings," "And you have none?" "At this moment yes," not entirely wrong, I have been single so long I have forgotten how to have an emotional connection, it's as if a part of my brain and heart came together to shut it off to protect myself from being hurt. His silence is deafening, "I have to go pee, I drank a lot of water." He pointed down the hall, "First door on your right, I'll be in my room across the hall." The warmth in his voice dissipated, good, it's easier to remain neutral about a situation before anything goes down if anything goes down.
I peed for what felt like forever, pulling my now crinkled jeans back up, I washed my hands and accessed myself in the mirror, some eyeliner smudged, fixed, overall I looked, decent. I head across the hall and Eric's already lying in bed, with black sheets, and a black fluffy comforter to match, different than the usual navy blue sheets I'm used to. Laying down with no shirt, shoes, and shorts well at least I know where this is going. "Have a seat," he sat up in bed and I sat next to him. He stands up in front of me and gets on his knees, very eager. Without saying a word he unbuckles my heels and puts them near the door, "Stand up," this time more demanding, taken aback by his demeanor I stand. He pulls down my pants, then my thong, it's smooth nude pink, nothing fancy. Then he pulled my shirt over my head, snapped my bra off, standing completely naked. He grabs my clothes and leaves the room, without saying a word. I've been through some WEIRD shit before but this might take the cake, it's always the hot ones that are weird. A few minutes go by and I hear water running like a... bath maybe.
He re-enters the room and holds out his hand expecting me to grab it, I do, because even though he's weird, he is hot. Come on ladies we're not above weirdness here. We enter the bathroom where the bathtub is filling up with bubbles. Okay, what is going on here? "We're taking a bath?" "Yes now get in." I stepped into the large bathtub, I didn't notice before because I was peeing, but there were jets in the bathtub, and marble countertops to match the kitchen, the faucets do not have the basic stainless steel look but have grooves and designs. He takes off his shorts before entering and well... that definitely isn't something you see every day. Besides the tattoos on his arms, they follow down the sides of his hips and legs, all intertwined like a maze.
We're facing each other in the bathtub, he doesn't say anything but grabs a bottle, squirts it in his hands, and goes to put it up to my face. "What are you doing?" I grabbed his wrist before his fingertips could touch my cheek, "I'm taking your makeup off, don't worry it's for sensitive skin." "Odd." I let go of his wrist and allow him to "clean" me, truth be told this is a first for me so I have no idea what to expect. Most men are easy to understand, flirt, drink with, invite, and then have sex. Unless he's prolonging the inevitable, which would make the most sense. "What's odd?" he asked, we're in a bathtub, I'm almost a stranger, barely an acquaintance and he's asking me what's odd. "You want to clean me." he finished cleaning my face and stopped when he put shampoo in his hand and met my gaze, "I want you clean before I destroy you." For the first time in a while, I actually blushed.
YOU ARE READING
It's Not Love
Short StoryEmma is single, has her mind made up about men, and has given up on love from her past. But when a man she knows nothing about comes into the picture, she doesn't realize how much he knows about her, and how little she knows of him. This is my firs...
