[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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March 2007
ZOE
Mark lounges on the sofa, feet kicked up on the arm rest with his legs crossed at his ankles. He nibbles the end of his pencil as he stares at his latest sudoku. Sometimes he'll spend hours at a time on just one puzzle. It's impressive, having the mental capacity to concentrate for such long periods.
From my spot curled up on the armchair, my eyes flit between the magazine in my hands and Mark's relaxed body. Whatever his motivations for going to the gym, it's paying off. His t-shirts are a little tighter, stretching over broad shoulders and clinging to his lean waist. One sinewy bicep flexes when he lowers the pencil to the page, and a flash of heat sears the space between my legs. God, he's so hot.
I look back down at the magazine, at the feature quiz that prompted my shameless staring session. How well do you know your partner inside the bedroom?
Not quite the same calibre as a fiendish sudoku, but my head spins with theories all the same. Mark won't open up to me about anything too personal; our conversations are very much surface-level, and that's fine on a day-to-day basis, but it creates this air of mystery that frustrates me.
How can you live with someone and know nothing about their inner thoughts? Their basic desires? Sure, I've caught him checking me out on a few occasions, but his face has been infuriatingly unreadable, so it's entirely possible he was judging my short skirt or trying to work out why I was wearing a low-cut top with no bra. Apart from his grief- or guilt-driven statement after the funeral four months ago, I've had nothing from him.
"Do you mind?" His dry voice filters across the living room, though he doesn't look up from his puzzle.
"Mind what?" I ask.
"Staring at me constantly. It's off-putting."
I stiffen, my fingers tightening around the shiny pages of the magazine. Do I really lack that much subtlety? Embarrassment creeps down my spine. It's bad enough that I find him attractive when he clearly doesn't reciprocate it; him noticing that is so much worse.
"How's the puzzle going?" I ask.
"Almost done." He jots another number onto the page.
"Taking your time, aren't you? What's it been—three hours?"
His gaze flicks up to mine. "It's tough, and I don't start a new one until I've finished the one I'm on."
He doesn't seem rattled, and that just irritates me further. My eyes refocus on the set of questions in front of me. God, what I'd give to chip into that hard exterior of his. To catch him off-guard. To make him feel the way he makes me feel.
"Maybe you should try it sometime, Zoe." A light-hearted edge accompanies his cool words. "It'd be a good change of pace from that trash you're reading over there."
