Layers(13)

Bet you can … “Thanks a lot for the offer, but I always prefer to make it on my own.”

“That’s good, really good,” he says, his gaze drifting away thoughtfully as though he’s assessing something. I wonder what it is. His briefly wandering gaze gives me a minute to observe his face. He has a straight nose, just the right size, thick, dark, long lashes, fencing hazel eyes. His face is tanned, enhancing his handsome features; he has tiny laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which is the only sign of his real age. A short beep comes from below the table. The distraction pulls him back. He fetches his phone from his pocket and answers sharply, “Stark.” He listens, his stare capturing mine. Though I feel a tad self-conscious, I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. His eyes are hypnotizing, drawing me in. Something’s happening at the pit of my stomach. Are those butterflies? I shouldn’t go there, not with him.




Moments into his conversation, his eyes narrow and his brows pull in. I notice his jaw sawing under his skin, and in a microsecond his look turns unnerving.

“For f**k’s sake, isn’t there anything you can do by yourselves? Do I need to baby sit you every step of the way?”

Wow, I wouldn’t want to be the person at the other end.

“I’ll be there shortly,” he says in a low, voice, blended with fury. Hearing that, a stab of disappointment surges through me. Is he leaving?

“And one last thing, Jake. Have a box ready, because I might want to fire you when I get there.”

So long Dr. Jekyll, and welcome Mr. Hyde. Psycho …

Daniel stands up, all annoyed, and takes a long sip of his cup, draining it. Is that it? Our time’s up? Just like that?

“I’ve got to go work for the people I pay salaries to,” he explains, agitated, sarcasm dripping from his voice and his smile far from touching his eyes.

“Well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” I smile at him, trying to conceal my growing disappointment. “It was a pleasure,” I add. He seems as though he isn’t with me anymore, his thoughts elsewhere. Daniel, back to earth … no reception, none whatsoever.

“See you,” he mutters and starts walking toward the exit. I sit frozen, looking at him, stunned. That’s the goodbye? That’s the same playful, charming person I just had coffee with? I follow his departing back with my stare and I notice his shoes again, the same ones as mine, those he complimented me on in his office, which now seems like ages ago.

“Hey, Daniel,” I call after him. Startled, he turns to look my way.

“Cool shoes.” I grin at him. It takes him a moment but as he seems to register what I said and regards me with a radiant smile, and then, all of a sudden, as if recalling my presence, he comes back. Reaching my side, he bends to give me a hug, catching me totally off guard. Well, Dr. Jekyll is back. Doing that, he manages to spill the mineral water bottle on himself, and his black tee gets wet.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Is that a request?” I ask faintly, blinking, mirroring his own words from our first encounter. His face lights up as if on cue.

“I have a meeting,” he adds, referring to his soaked shirt, his smile still intact.

“I live close by,” I say. “I can have it dried for you in ten.” He stares at me introspectively, and then grimaces. “That would help.” And all I can think of is: Daniel Stark is coming to my apartment.

~~~

On our way to the apartment, walking side by side, I ask him what he meant by “that rarely happens” in his email.

“Nothing passes by your exhaustive observation, does it?” He sends me a small side smile. I nod, biting my lip, looking forward to his reply.

“People rarely amuse me, and I don’t usually do coffees.” Saying that, he fetches his phone and appears to start checking his emails, his expression altering to an impassive seriousness. So people don’t usually amuse you, Daniel, and you don’t do coffees. Am I a special case? Charity case, I mock myself.

“And here is our humble casa,” I declare as we step inside.

Daniel observes the surroundings. “Nice casa, very colorful.” He gestures toward the “royal” orange and green dining area. I shrug, amused.

“So, I’ll need your shirt now, Daniel,” I playfully command, putting out my hand, leaving my arm stretched in front of him, demanding.

“We aren’t even a foot in and you already want me naked? Everything has its time, Hayley.” His eyes manifest sin. I know that he’s kidding but the thought of him without a shirt plus his innuendo make me uneasy. He observes me profoundly and with the wickedest look, as if I were bait, and without tearing his eyes from mine he lifts his shirt off over his head. Holy hell, he should be banned from wearing tops, ever. I gasp.

“Here you go,” he hands me his shirt, still warm with body heat. His eyes burn into me as I swallow hard. I can’t help but quickly peek at him before heading toward the dryer. He has a spiral tattoo decorating his left shoulder; it looks like phrases in some ancient characters. Any other thought but of his body flies out of my mind.

I return to find him standing in the entrance to our corridor.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks. Our stares immediately latch.

“Next door to the left,” I reply, stealing yet another quick glance at him as I do. For a minute, we stand facing each other, eyes intently connected; tension is building between us, charging the gap between our bodies. He starts walking slowly toward me, not leaving my stare; my heart is in my throat, welling with anticipation. Facing me, his eyes move to settle on my lips and my breath grows heavier.