Allured, p.2
Allured, page 2
I wink as he begins to turn away and I fit his shiny black card between my index and middle finger. Oh damn, it’s embossed and everything.
Teasing him, I put my lips on the fancy card and blow him a kiss with it. “Thanks, Daddy!” I step backwards toward the door with a little wave of his credit card in goodbye.
“Stop calling me that.” The stoic man rolls his eyes in dismissal, but I know there’s no real threat in the command. If the man had any soft spots, I would be one of them.
“I’ve got your card, I’m gonna use your money– I think that’s the definition of a sugar daddy.” A soft chuckle escapes my lips at the same time he lets out a pained groan. I can’t see him as I’m walking out but I know he has at least a tiny smile on his face. Whatever kind of smile the bastard can muster, at least.
“Hey everyone, I’ve got a sugar daddy!” My voice bounces off the walls of the hallway as I walk away holding more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime.
CHAPTER THREE
ALEK
You better work, bitch.
Friday night hits faster than I expected it would. I spent my week training the new dancers brought onto the team and creating the menu for Knight’s gala tomorrow.
It’s still early September and nearing the end of our summer show season but we’ve got a lot of new material to learn for the fall. Typically I love showing the newbies the ropes and getting to know them. I’m ‘painfully extroverted’ according to T, but he’s a grumpy fucker. He’s one of the reasons this week hasn’t gone as great as it could have. He’s broken up over his ex—girlfriend and taking it out on people around him.
“Dude, they’re ready, you don’t need to be freaking out,” I reassure my brother. I catch T’s eyes through the dressing room mirror as I apply a second layer of mascara to my eyelashes. What can I say? It makes my eyes pop.
“I know they’re ready, Alek,” he sighs and sets down one of his contour brushes onto the dresser. “I’ve just been in a funk.”
“Nah, really?” I ask rhetorically, a playful tone in my voice. “Didn’t notice that when you barked the newbie’s head off the other day.” Crossing my arms, I turn toward my brother to get a good look at him. Setting free a sigh of my own, I put down my mascara wand.
He’s tired, I can tell. It’s not easy training new dancers, especially ones that come in with a primadonna complex because they recently graduated from a fancy dance academy. I don’t necessarily blame T for getting upset at one of the new guys. Jason was being a dick because he didn’t get a lead part, but the yelling was harsher than it had to be.
“I apologized to him, Alek.” He mimics my pose and crosses his arms as well. “I was gonna say, I’m gonna be taking next week off. I’ve got some clinicals coming up and need to focus on my residency,” he voices quietly, not wanting to share the information with the rest of the dancers in the dressing room.
I honestly couldn’t be more proud that my little brother is within reach of his dream to become a doctor but I think he takes on too much. He’s working at the club in order to make money and pay off what he can for school, but I can tell balancing everything has been wearing him down lately. Savannah leaving him was just the thing to make him realize it.
“Good,” nodding, I continue, “you need some time off, T. Shit’s been a lot for you lately.” T narrows his eyes and tilts his head at me with a confused expression. He looks like some giant puppy when he does that.
“You’re okay with that?” His tone doesn’t do anything to hide his surprise. Why would he think that I would be against him taking care of himself? “It’s gonna be a lot more work for you, Alek.”
“It’s not a problem,” I reply, brushing him off with a wave of my hand. It honestly isn’t a problem for me to take on some more hours. I won’t lie– the club is my life, and it’s not like I have any outstanding commitments after Knight’s gala tomorrow.
“The new dancers are trained and we’ve only got a few bachelorette parties next week until we start the Halloween shows. Nothing I can’t handle.” I explain as I clean up my station and pack my makeup bag.
“Alek…” T’s voice is soft as he places his hand on my forearm. “I appreciate you taking over, I really do.”
I turn to him as a small, sad smile begins to play on his face. “My mind’s been messed up lately and I think this will give me some clarity.”
I pat the hand he has resting on my arm and meet his green eyes with the hazel of my own. “I’m always here for you, y’know? If you want to talk, drink, or punch it out, I’m game, bro.” I earn a genuine laugh with that one.
“No, fuck you, you play dirty.” He shakes his head, shoves me away, and begins clearing his station as well. Our prep time is coming to an end with only fifteen minutes until the show starts, and I’ve instilled in these guys that any messes are their own.
“It was an accident!” I huff out an annoyed grunt. “You,” I start, pointing my index finger at him, “should have watched where the pool was, idiot.” How dare he say it was my fault that he fell into a half empty pool last summer. We were having a bonfire with a couple of friends that night and we both ended up drinking too much. For some reason, a wrestling match sounded like a great idea. So great the night ended with T needing stitches on his upper arm after I tackled his big ass into the pool. Still, I say it’s his fault. He double dared me.
“I have scars, Alek!” he shouts his fake offense and slaps my finger out of his face. There’s no anger there, just good ol’ teasing about a brotherly fight taken too far. He’s totally mad I kicked his ass.
“You got a concussion Alek, I wouldn’t say that you came out clean.” Viv laughs as she appears out of the corner of my eye and begins to fiddle with some of the tassels on my costume.
I’ve got to admit the costume she whipped up is gorgeous. It’s a sparkling shade of champagne with tassels and small gems shining on the criss—cross straps that surround my torso. And of course it’s topped off– or bottomed off I should say– with a matching metallic thong that shows off this ass I squat five days a week to have. The coverup of my costume, a rip—away three—piece suit, sits in my chair behind me. I’ll definitely need her help with that. Funny how easy the velcro is to tear off, but so damn hard to put on by yourself.
“You’re supposed to be on my side, Viv.” I pretend to scold her as T snorts smugly. He’s reaching for his three piece—suit too.
“I’m not on anyone’s side. You’re both ridiculous. Now, turn around so I can help get this suit on you.” Her tiny hands feel anything but small as she practically man—handles me away from the vanity and expertly slips the suit on me.
“Thanks, Mom.” I might as well call her that with how she’s got me feeling like some toddler that can’t get his own clothes on. I love taunting her but I know I’d accidentally flash the audience way too early in the show if she wasn’t here to make sure the costume was in place.
T howls with laughter as he and one of our long—time dancers, Benny, help each other get their costumes on. They’re dressed in something similar to me but their costumes have underlying black and silver strappy lingerie. We’ve got a fun show planned tonight and the excitement is starting to get to me. Nothing beats the rush of knowing you’ve got the crowd’s attention, admiration, and desire. The electricity of it all causes some serious adrenaline to run through you.
“Showtime, my beauties!” Seb, our master of ceremonies, announces over our intercom system. A loud smack of his lips over the speakers punctuates the announcement. Our nightly kiss for good luck.
Once the final piece of my costume is in place, I turn away from my siblings to take in the room full of about a dozen other dancers. It’s time for our pre—show prep rally.
“You better what?” I deepen my voice and it fills the room as if I’m some commanding officer yelling at his soldiers.
“You better work, bitch!” A loud chorus of masculine voices salute back to me.
Music to my fucking ears.
CHAPTER FOUR
EZEKIEL
What in God’s name does ‘sus’ mean?
Yet again, I’ve almost fallen face—first into this pretentious pond. The landscape designer might as well have called it a death trap due to its ridiculous location.
The flowers I’m currently trying to keep intact are wrapped in my arms and blocking half of my vision. I never knew that flowers could be so expensive and smell like the inside of a nursing home.
I’m not quite sure what my aunt was thinking when she made the last minute switch of floral arrangements, but apparently, she wanted me to “see them through.” Which meant I had to drop grading my student’s exams in order to get to my cousin’s house early for the gala this afternoon.
While I do love my family, I’ve never been one for formal events such as these. I would much rather have a night at home, reading by the fire and ignoring the world around me.
It’s kind of hard to ignore the world right now, though. Including this oaf. Knight strides by me, nearly knocking me into the pond.
“Unless you would like these to be a floating centerpiece, I would watch where you’re hurrying off to.” My tone is annoyed and I’m not sorry for it. It was he and his mom who roped me into this, afterall.
“Oh, get over it.” He turns around while dismissing me with a flick of his hand. “I’ve got to direct all these unwanted strangers in my home so I would hope I wouldn’t have to babysit you as well, cousin.” His hand stills on his phone before grins wryly and glances up at me.
Things between myself and Knight have always been like this. We’re both grumpy, no—nonsense men, but we tend to get along most of the time. He’s one of the only people I would drop my plans for. Hence, why I’m here playing florist at his estate.
“Why is the gala happening at your place, anyway?” I walk over to an empty table and set down the large vase filled with those putrid flowers.
“While Mother is ill she would still like some control over the situation and didn’t want to ‘leave it in some stranger’s hands’ as she said.” Knight reaches his hand over the table and begins to minutely move around the vase I just set down. I roll my eyes and smack his hand away. “It was fine where I put it. Don’t you have other things on your to—do list besides shoving me into your pool?”
There’s a familiar glint in his eyes as he stares at me. A glint I know very well. It’s the one he would usually get before we did something that got us in trouble when we were children. “Well yes, actually. I do need some help with the dining options. Would you be willing to see the chef about the special dietary needs list?”
That doesn’t sound as terrible as handling the spiny flowers. And it would be a good opportunity to get a quick snack since I had to skip breakfast to obtain said spiny flowers.
“I can do that. Is there someone else who can get the rest of the flowers?”
Knight is already walking away as he responds over his shoulder. “Oh, I’ll find someone. Good luck!” I definitely don’t like the cheeky quality in his last two words.
What am I in for?
If I hadn’t already been familiar with my cousin’s house, I swear I could have found my way floating through the air like I was in some old cartoon, dragged by the delicious smells coming from the massive kitchen.
Whoever Knight was able to wrangle at the last minute to cater the gala is making a name for themselves solely based on the aromas invading my senses.
Turning the corner into the large kitchen area, I look toward the granite island and go still. While I am not usually one for exaggerations or overtly colorful language, a little quip slips through.
“Be still, my fucking heart.”
Before me is the most attractive man I have ever seen.
Which is a thought that leaves me confused. I’ve seen attractive men before. Objectively, I am able to see one’s level of attractiveness regardless of gender, but I have never been attracted to men. At least, not so suddenly and outright.
At first glance I wouldn’t have guessed this man was a professional chef. Light brown waves that look almost blond in the sunlight frame the strong contours of his face. There’s something soft in his delicate but still masculine features, despite the way his nose is scrunched and his brow is furrowed in concentration. But it’s his lips that have me enthralled. Plump and naturally colorful, the bottom one is caught between his teeth as he carefully tops a small dish with an herb. What I wouldn’t give to be the one biting down on his lips…
My eyes continue to trace down in my observation. He’s wearing a black band t—shirt that looks like it’s about as old as I am, with some rather tight fitting faded blue jeans, and a Hello Kitty apron tied around his waist. His body moves so fluidly as he shimmies from counter to counter.
I can’t look away. What is it about him?
Is it the way the man is singing at a level I’m sure he thinks is quiet, and dancing around like this is a normal Saturday morning to him? What do his Saturday mornings usually look like? And why do I suddenly want to know?
Is it the way he skillfully and purposefully mixes, cuts, and plates his ingredients while he makes what smells to be the best lunch I will ever have in my life?
No, no. It’s the way that, while he’s doing all those things, there’s a certain life and brightness he brings to the room. He radiates confidence. Like he’s never afraid of being truly and wholly himself. This is a man who everyone wants to be, or be around.
This is a man I have to get to know. A voice in the back of my head nags.
There’s the sound of a whistle from somewhere. With it, I’m pulled out of my trance and find myself taken aback by my borderline obsessive thoughts. I have to brush a hand down my face to ground myself. Suddenly, I also remember I’m at the kitchen entrance where the person I’m gawking at can probably see me staring like a stalker.
“That’s a little sus, man.” A deep, rich voice playfully chastises me with a tsk. Through my hands, I catch a glimpse of the man staring at me as he takes out his earbuds.
What I wouldn’t do to implant that voice directly into my brain, so my inner thoughts all sound like this man. I wish I understood what on Earth he said to me though.
“What in God’s name does sus mean?” I certainly know that is not the biggest question that needs answering but it seems to be the right question to ask. I’ve earned a full—bodied, genuine laugh from him. I gasp at the lovely sound and I feel something spark within my chest.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALEK
Taste it for me.
My not—so—secret and not—so—subtle admirer has me doubled over in laughter. I can’t help it. I’ve never heard someone with such a serious tone and a look that screams Clark Kent say the word ‘sus’ before.
Letting out the last of my laugh, I tuck away my headphones and marvel at the shy smile the man is offering me.
“It means I’ve seen you staring at me for the past five minutes, man,” I reply in a friendly tone, wiping a tear from my eye as I finally calm down enough to talk to him.
“It means you were being suspicious, but I figured you were just watching the food.” I know damn well the food wasn’t what had him drooling, but I want to see where this goes.
“Yes, well– your technique is quite precise.”
I notice how he completely leapt at the chance to cover his staring, and that’s alright. I’ll let it pass. My quiet little Clark Kent is blushing so hard I think those sexy glasses of his might fog up if I tease him any further.
I might tease him a bit more though. I’m no saint and the blush looks damn good on that handsome face. I lick my bottom lip as I brace both my hands on the counter and eye him the way he was eyeing me moments ago. It’s only fair.
A soft—looking, navy blue v—neck sweater with the oxford collar of a dress shirt peeking out fits his lean build perfectly. He stands only a few inches shorter than me. Along with the dark gray slacks and polished black shoes he’s got on, he definitely doesn’t look like another one of the dozen workers hurrying around the place to get the event set up. He looks more like a hot librarian I’m dying to have shush me for being too loud.
Who is this guy?
There’s a permanent furrow on the pale skin of his brow, almost like he’s squinting even though he’s wearing glasses. It’s got me wondering if the guy ever relaxes. Maybe he’s observing, or taking me in, or something. But it’s what’s behind those glasses that has me in my own creeper moment.
Holy shit. His eyes. The perfect shade of azul in them has me hypnotized, feeling drunk and sober at the time in a way I can’t put into understandable words. I can’t stop staring but it’s not like he’s breaking away either. He’s not backing down, lost in the moment like me. His thick, black eyelashes slowly close and open as he blinks, those milliseconds are the only break he gives me from staring into those endless pools of dark blue. It’s cliché as fuck but it feels like time really has frozen.
“Mierda!” I jolt when a timer goes off on the counter, freeing us from our game of gay chicken as I twist to grab it and turn it off.
“Sorry, gotta get these.” I change the stove settings with one hand, and with my other hand, I reach into the pocket of my apron. My Hello Kitty oven mitts don’t work as well as they used to but I love them too much to get rid of them. They were one of Viv’s first sewing projects and I’m going to keep using them even if it means I need to be quick about taking shit out of the oven.
Out of the corner of my eye I see him brush one of his elegant hands against the side of his neck. The moment we shared is gone and I could cry for the sudden sense of loss I’m feeling.
“I— uh, Knight sent me here to check on the dietary restrictions list,” he murmurs.
“Oh, are you an event planner or assistant?” I ask as I take the empanadas out of the oven, fully aware I’m giving him a view most people pay for back at the burlesque club. If there’s an exaggerated bend to my waist and a little pop to my ass, I don’t hear him complaining about it.
Teasing him, I put my lips on the fancy card and blow him a kiss with it. “Thanks, Daddy!” I step backwards toward the door with a little wave of his credit card in goodbye.
“Stop calling me that.” The stoic man rolls his eyes in dismissal, but I know there’s no real threat in the command. If the man had any soft spots, I would be one of them.
“I’ve got your card, I’m gonna use your money– I think that’s the definition of a sugar daddy.” A soft chuckle escapes my lips at the same time he lets out a pained groan. I can’t see him as I’m walking out but I know he has at least a tiny smile on his face. Whatever kind of smile the bastard can muster, at least.
“Hey everyone, I’ve got a sugar daddy!” My voice bounces off the walls of the hallway as I walk away holding more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime.
CHAPTER THREE
ALEK
You better work, bitch.
Friday night hits faster than I expected it would. I spent my week training the new dancers brought onto the team and creating the menu for Knight’s gala tomorrow.
It’s still early September and nearing the end of our summer show season but we’ve got a lot of new material to learn for the fall. Typically I love showing the newbies the ropes and getting to know them. I’m ‘painfully extroverted’ according to T, but he’s a grumpy fucker. He’s one of the reasons this week hasn’t gone as great as it could have. He’s broken up over his ex—girlfriend and taking it out on people around him.
“Dude, they’re ready, you don’t need to be freaking out,” I reassure my brother. I catch T’s eyes through the dressing room mirror as I apply a second layer of mascara to my eyelashes. What can I say? It makes my eyes pop.
“I know they’re ready, Alek,” he sighs and sets down one of his contour brushes onto the dresser. “I’ve just been in a funk.”
“Nah, really?” I ask rhetorically, a playful tone in my voice. “Didn’t notice that when you barked the newbie’s head off the other day.” Crossing my arms, I turn toward my brother to get a good look at him. Setting free a sigh of my own, I put down my mascara wand.
He’s tired, I can tell. It’s not easy training new dancers, especially ones that come in with a primadonna complex because they recently graduated from a fancy dance academy. I don’t necessarily blame T for getting upset at one of the new guys. Jason was being a dick because he didn’t get a lead part, but the yelling was harsher than it had to be.
“I apologized to him, Alek.” He mimics my pose and crosses his arms as well. “I was gonna say, I’m gonna be taking next week off. I’ve got some clinicals coming up and need to focus on my residency,” he voices quietly, not wanting to share the information with the rest of the dancers in the dressing room.
I honestly couldn’t be more proud that my little brother is within reach of his dream to become a doctor but I think he takes on too much. He’s working at the club in order to make money and pay off what he can for school, but I can tell balancing everything has been wearing him down lately. Savannah leaving him was just the thing to make him realize it.
“Good,” nodding, I continue, “you need some time off, T. Shit’s been a lot for you lately.” T narrows his eyes and tilts his head at me with a confused expression. He looks like some giant puppy when he does that.
“You’re okay with that?” His tone doesn’t do anything to hide his surprise. Why would he think that I would be against him taking care of himself? “It’s gonna be a lot more work for you, Alek.”
“It’s not a problem,” I reply, brushing him off with a wave of my hand. It honestly isn’t a problem for me to take on some more hours. I won’t lie– the club is my life, and it’s not like I have any outstanding commitments after Knight’s gala tomorrow.
“The new dancers are trained and we’ve only got a few bachelorette parties next week until we start the Halloween shows. Nothing I can’t handle.” I explain as I clean up my station and pack my makeup bag.
“Alek…” T’s voice is soft as he places his hand on my forearm. “I appreciate you taking over, I really do.”
I turn to him as a small, sad smile begins to play on his face. “My mind’s been messed up lately and I think this will give me some clarity.”
I pat the hand he has resting on my arm and meet his green eyes with the hazel of my own. “I’m always here for you, y’know? If you want to talk, drink, or punch it out, I’m game, bro.” I earn a genuine laugh with that one.
“No, fuck you, you play dirty.” He shakes his head, shoves me away, and begins clearing his station as well. Our prep time is coming to an end with only fifteen minutes until the show starts, and I’ve instilled in these guys that any messes are their own.
“It was an accident!” I huff out an annoyed grunt. “You,” I start, pointing my index finger at him, “should have watched where the pool was, idiot.” How dare he say it was my fault that he fell into a half empty pool last summer. We were having a bonfire with a couple of friends that night and we both ended up drinking too much. For some reason, a wrestling match sounded like a great idea. So great the night ended with T needing stitches on his upper arm after I tackled his big ass into the pool. Still, I say it’s his fault. He double dared me.
“I have scars, Alek!” he shouts his fake offense and slaps my finger out of his face. There’s no anger there, just good ol’ teasing about a brotherly fight taken too far. He’s totally mad I kicked his ass.
“You got a concussion Alek, I wouldn’t say that you came out clean.” Viv laughs as she appears out of the corner of my eye and begins to fiddle with some of the tassels on my costume.
I’ve got to admit the costume she whipped up is gorgeous. It’s a sparkling shade of champagne with tassels and small gems shining on the criss—cross straps that surround my torso. And of course it’s topped off– or bottomed off I should say– with a matching metallic thong that shows off this ass I squat five days a week to have. The coverup of my costume, a rip—away three—piece suit, sits in my chair behind me. I’ll definitely need her help with that. Funny how easy the velcro is to tear off, but so damn hard to put on by yourself.
“You’re supposed to be on my side, Viv.” I pretend to scold her as T snorts smugly. He’s reaching for his three piece—suit too.
“I’m not on anyone’s side. You’re both ridiculous. Now, turn around so I can help get this suit on you.” Her tiny hands feel anything but small as she practically man—handles me away from the vanity and expertly slips the suit on me.
“Thanks, Mom.” I might as well call her that with how she’s got me feeling like some toddler that can’t get his own clothes on. I love taunting her but I know I’d accidentally flash the audience way too early in the show if she wasn’t here to make sure the costume was in place.
T howls with laughter as he and one of our long—time dancers, Benny, help each other get their costumes on. They’re dressed in something similar to me but their costumes have underlying black and silver strappy lingerie. We’ve got a fun show planned tonight and the excitement is starting to get to me. Nothing beats the rush of knowing you’ve got the crowd’s attention, admiration, and desire. The electricity of it all causes some serious adrenaline to run through you.
“Showtime, my beauties!” Seb, our master of ceremonies, announces over our intercom system. A loud smack of his lips over the speakers punctuates the announcement. Our nightly kiss for good luck.
Once the final piece of my costume is in place, I turn away from my siblings to take in the room full of about a dozen other dancers. It’s time for our pre—show prep rally.
“You better what?” I deepen my voice and it fills the room as if I’m some commanding officer yelling at his soldiers.
“You better work, bitch!” A loud chorus of masculine voices salute back to me.
Music to my fucking ears.
CHAPTER FOUR
EZEKIEL
What in God’s name does ‘sus’ mean?
Yet again, I’ve almost fallen face—first into this pretentious pond. The landscape designer might as well have called it a death trap due to its ridiculous location.
The flowers I’m currently trying to keep intact are wrapped in my arms and blocking half of my vision. I never knew that flowers could be so expensive and smell like the inside of a nursing home.
I’m not quite sure what my aunt was thinking when she made the last minute switch of floral arrangements, but apparently, she wanted me to “see them through.” Which meant I had to drop grading my student’s exams in order to get to my cousin’s house early for the gala this afternoon.
While I do love my family, I’ve never been one for formal events such as these. I would much rather have a night at home, reading by the fire and ignoring the world around me.
It’s kind of hard to ignore the world right now, though. Including this oaf. Knight strides by me, nearly knocking me into the pond.
“Unless you would like these to be a floating centerpiece, I would watch where you’re hurrying off to.” My tone is annoyed and I’m not sorry for it. It was he and his mom who roped me into this, afterall.
“Oh, get over it.” He turns around while dismissing me with a flick of his hand. “I’ve got to direct all these unwanted strangers in my home so I would hope I wouldn’t have to babysit you as well, cousin.” His hand stills on his phone before grins wryly and glances up at me.
Things between myself and Knight have always been like this. We’re both grumpy, no—nonsense men, but we tend to get along most of the time. He’s one of the only people I would drop my plans for. Hence, why I’m here playing florist at his estate.
“Why is the gala happening at your place, anyway?” I walk over to an empty table and set down the large vase filled with those putrid flowers.
“While Mother is ill she would still like some control over the situation and didn’t want to ‘leave it in some stranger’s hands’ as she said.” Knight reaches his hand over the table and begins to minutely move around the vase I just set down. I roll my eyes and smack his hand away. “It was fine where I put it. Don’t you have other things on your to—do list besides shoving me into your pool?”
There’s a familiar glint in his eyes as he stares at me. A glint I know very well. It’s the one he would usually get before we did something that got us in trouble when we were children. “Well yes, actually. I do need some help with the dining options. Would you be willing to see the chef about the special dietary needs list?”
That doesn’t sound as terrible as handling the spiny flowers. And it would be a good opportunity to get a quick snack since I had to skip breakfast to obtain said spiny flowers.
“I can do that. Is there someone else who can get the rest of the flowers?”
Knight is already walking away as he responds over his shoulder. “Oh, I’ll find someone. Good luck!” I definitely don’t like the cheeky quality in his last two words.
What am I in for?
If I hadn’t already been familiar with my cousin’s house, I swear I could have found my way floating through the air like I was in some old cartoon, dragged by the delicious smells coming from the massive kitchen.
Whoever Knight was able to wrangle at the last minute to cater the gala is making a name for themselves solely based on the aromas invading my senses.
Turning the corner into the large kitchen area, I look toward the granite island and go still. While I am not usually one for exaggerations or overtly colorful language, a little quip slips through.
“Be still, my fucking heart.”
Before me is the most attractive man I have ever seen.
Which is a thought that leaves me confused. I’ve seen attractive men before. Objectively, I am able to see one’s level of attractiveness regardless of gender, but I have never been attracted to men. At least, not so suddenly and outright.
At first glance I wouldn’t have guessed this man was a professional chef. Light brown waves that look almost blond in the sunlight frame the strong contours of his face. There’s something soft in his delicate but still masculine features, despite the way his nose is scrunched and his brow is furrowed in concentration. But it’s his lips that have me enthralled. Plump and naturally colorful, the bottom one is caught between his teeth as he carefully tops a small dish with an herb. What I wouldn’t give to be the one biting down on his lips…
My eyes continue to trace down in my observation. He’s wearing a black band t—shirt that looks like it’s about as old as I am, with some rather tight fitting faded blue jeans, and a Hello Kitty apron tied around his waist. His body moves so fluidly as he shimmies from counter to counter.
I can’t look away. What is it about him?
Is it the way the man is singing at a level I’m sure he thinks is quiet, and dancing around like this is a normal Saturday morning to him? What do his Saturday mornings usually look like? And why do I suddenly want to know?
Is it the way he skillfully and purposefully mixes, cuts, and plates his ingredients while he makes what smells to be the best lunch I will ever have in my life?
No, no. It’s the way that, while he’s doing all those things, there’s a certain life and brightness he brings to the room. He radiates confidence. Like he’s never afraid of being truly and wholly himself. This is a man who everyone wants to be, or be around.
This is a man I have to get to know. A voice in the back of my head nags.
There’s the sound of a whistle from somewhere. With it, I’m pulled out of my trance and find myself taken aback by my borderline obsessive thoughts. I have to brush a hand down my face to ground myself. Suddenly, I also remember I’m at the kitchen entrance where the person I’m gawking at can probably see me staring like a stalker.
“That’s a little sus, man.” A deep, rich voice playfully chastises me with a tsk. Through my hands, I catch a glimpse of the man staring at me as he takes out his earbuds.
What I wouldn’t do to implant that voice directly into my brain, so my inner thoughts all sound like this man. I wish I understood what on Earth he said to me though.
“What in God’s name does sus mean?” I certainly know that is not the biggest question that needs answering but it seems to be the right question to ask. I’ve earned a full—bodied, genuine laugh from him. I gasp at the lovely sound and I feel something spark within my chest.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALEK
Taste it for me.
My not—so—secret and not—so—subtle admirer has me doubled over in laughter. I can’t help it. I’ve never heard someone with such a serious tone and a look that screams Clark Kent say the word ‘sus’ before.
Letting out the last of my laugh, I tuck away my headphones and marvel at the shy smile the man is offering me.
“It means I’ve seen you staring at me for the past five minutes, man,” I reply in a friendly tone, wiping a tear from my eye as I finally calm down enough to talk to him.
“It means you were being suspicious, but I figured you were just watching the food.” I know damn well the food wasn’t what had him drooling, but I want to see where this goes.
“Yes, well– your technique is quite precise.”
I notice how he completely leapt at the chance to cover his staring, and that’s alright. I’ll let it pass. My quiet little Clark Kent is blushing so hard I think those sexy glasses of his might fog up if I tease him any further.
I might tease him a bit more though. I’m no saint and the blush looks damn good on that handsome face. I lick my bottom lip as I brace both my hands on the counter and eye him the way he was eyeing me moments ago. It’s only fair.
A soft—looking, navy blue v—neck sweater with the oxford collar of a dress shirt peeking out fits his lean build perfectly. He stands only a few inches shorter than me. Along with the dark gray slacks and polished black shoes he’s got on, he definitely doesn’t look like another one of the dozen workers hurrying around the place to get the event set up. He looks more like a hot librarian I’m dying to have shush me for being too loud.
Who is this guy?
There’s a permanent furrow on the pale skin of his brow, almost like he’s squinting even though he’s wearing glasses. It’s got me wondering if the guy ever relaxes. Maybe he’s observing, or taking me in, or something. But it’s what’s behind those glasses that has me in my own creeper moment.
Holy shit. His eyes. The perfect shade of azul in them has me hypnotized, feeling drunk and sober at the time in a way I can’t put into understandable words. I can’t stop staring but it’s not like he’s breaking away either. He’s not backing down, lost in the moment like me. His thick, black eyelashes slowly close and open as he blinks, those milliseconds are the only break he gives me from staring into those endless pools of dark blue. It’s cliché as fuck but it feels like time really has frozen.
“Mierda!” I jolt when a timer goes off on the counter, freeing us from our game of gay chicken as I twist to grab it and turn it off.
“Sorry, gotta get these.” I change the stove settings with one hand, and with my other hand, I reach into the pocket of my apron. My Hello Kitty oven mitts don’t work as well as they used to but I love them too much to get rid of them. They were one of Viv’s first sewing projects and I’m going to keep using them even if it means I need to be quick about taking shit out of the oven.
Out of the corner of my eye I see him brush one of his elegant hands against the side of his neck. The moment we shared is gone and I could cry for the sudden sense of loss I’m feeling.
“I— uh, Knight sent me here to check on the dietary restrictions list,” he murmurs.
“Oh, are you an event planner or assistant?” I ask as I take the empanadas out of the oven, fully aware I’m giving him a view most people pay for back at the burlesque club. If there’s an exaggerated bend to my waist and a little pop to my ass, I don’t hear him complaining about it.
