Author's Note:
Hey! Thanks for all the comments! I hope you enjoy the next segment, it's a bit longer and isn't quite as virginal! Please continue to let me know what could be improved! Sorry that it's taking a bit long to start...and I apologize in advance for the fairly obvious 'twist'.
Chapter 2:
I awoke exhausted to the sunlight streaming through the large wall to floor sliding doors blighting the room and rousing me from the much needed slumber.
"Eurgh," I moaned and reached for my phone lying on the coffee table where I'd left it. I grabbed it and hit the power switch. Nothing happened. I hit it again before noticing the spider web crack creeping across the glass face.
Shit, that's right. My phone broke when I fell...
then the memory came back in a flash. I'd fallen over a naked beauty lying in the middle of the street, I had driven her home, carried the unconscious woman up into my apartment, put her to bed, and then I came out to the couch and crashed.
I quietly roused myself and hit the espresso machine, warming it up, before disappearing into the shower. I glanced over myself in the large full length mirrors that adorned one wall next to the small tub.
I didn't look too bad I supposed, my brown hair was starting to get a little long and stuck up in shocking directions.
I suppose it has been 2 months, maybe another haircut is in order?
I slipped the t-shirt off and dropped it on the floor examining my bare chest. I'm not what you'd exactly call fit, not fat, but definitely not the Adonis look alikes that you see all over Sydney these days. No, I was slim and had fairly decent body, working in a bar carrying cartons up from the basement had given me enough muscles to give me some sex appeal.
Maybe I should go to the gym? Nah,
I like my sleep too much.
I slipped off the blue boxers which I was wearing, the soaking jeans had been left in a crumple on the floor almost as soon as I'd gotten home last night, and stepped under the shower, allowing the hot jet of water to massage my body and bring me back into the land of the living.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around my waist, I was freshly shaved, had minty clean teeth, and a smatter of cologne adorning my wrists and neck. I saw the strange beauty from last night hovering around the coffee machine trying to figure out to make it produce the essence of life.
In the bright room I got my first decent look at her, it was too dark and I was too conscious of her nudity last night to really look her over. She wore an old t-shirt of mine that hung limply from her frame but instead of making her look comical it made her even more stunning.
I finally get why seeing girls in their boyfriend's shirts is such a turn on... not that she's my girlfriend... Oh you tool.
"Hey," I greeted, one hand gripping the towel around my waist the other outstretched as I approached her, "I'm Ryan, I don't think I properly introduced myself last night."
"Rachel," she delicately grasped my hand and I felt soft smooth skin meet mine. There were no callouses her, no dry skin, and no healing cuts. No, these hands were nothing like my own, they were the epitome of feminine perfection.
"Thanks for last night," she graced me with a smile and my heart melted.
"Oh, uh, no problem" My composure was slipping and I forced myself to pay attention to the conversation, not stand here gaping like an idiot over a pretty girl, "Are you feeling okay? What happened last night anyway... where you hit?"
"I'm feeling great, thanks," yet another smile, yet another skipped heartbeat, "And I don't think so, more fainted than anything I think. Honestly, I'm fine."
"Right, and you're um... state of..." I couldn't bring myself to say naked, it just seemed so wrong.
"It's a long story. Now how about a bit of help? I could murder a coffee," I was only more than happy to oblige. I filled the cups, steamed the milk and within a few short minutes we were both holding perfect lattés.
"Mmm," Rachel complimented after her first sip, "Where on earth did you learn how to do this?"
"90% of it's the coffee," I laughed, shrugging off the compliment. Truth be told I worked as a barista for three years, two in Sydney and one back home in Port Macquarie and had made more lattés, cappuccinos, flat whites, short blacks, and skinny organic cinnamon macchiatos than I could count. I excused myself to grab some clothes whilst Rachel sipped her coffee and snooped around the small flat.
I re-emerged wearing a purple polo shirt and a pair of worn grey jeans to find Rachel standing out on the balconey starring out at the expansive view. I slipped out to stand next to her, watching Sydney fall away to the south and west.
"Beautiful isn't it?"
"Amazing," we stared out across the red terracotta tiled roofs and watched as a plane lazily ascended to cruising altitude in the distance, "How much does a place like this cost each week?"
"Uh, I'm not really too sure. I own it," she turned to me and shot me a quizzical look.
"Trust fund?"
"Inheritance," I corrected and saw the familiar shift of facial expression from slight judgment to empathetic concern.
"Oh, I'm sorry,"
"Don't worry about it. It happened years ago, I'm fine with it now," that was the first lie I told Rachel. I wasn't fine, I never would be fine. No amount of time would heal this wound. Nothing could stop me from awakening in the middle of the night coated in sweat, the gunshot echoing around me head, the darkness pressing in on me, suffocating.
We stood there for another minute letting the silence engulf us until my stomach came to the rescue and broke in with a loud grumble.
"Sorry, I guess I'm a bit hungry. Breakfast?"
"I'd love some," I bustled away to the kitchen whilst she kept watching the city come alive as thousands of people left for jobs, absorbed in their own little bubbles. They crawled below concerned with rising petrol prices, roadwork along Parramatta road, how Guillard was screwing up the country, or whether their wives had cottoned on to the illicit affair with their secretaries.
"Sort of makes you realize how insignificant we all are doesn't it?" I asked, holding two plates of eggs on toast. I placed them on the small outside table and pulled out a chair for her.
"I'm used to it," she said as she took her seat, patting my arm in thanks, "I've spent most of my life watching people go about theirs."
"Oh really, what do you do?" It was the first really personal question I'd asked her. Here I was having breakfast with a girl who had just spent the night naked in my bed,
alright so I wasn't in it with her but it still counts right?
and I knew next to nothing about her.
"Did," she corrected, "and it doesn't really matter now. I got fired."
"Oh sorry," conversation was put on hold for a few minutes as we hungrily filled our mouths with the runny eggs and warm toast, "So, were do you live?"
"I'm in between actually, sort of how you found me like I was last night."
"Oh, so why are you in Sydney?"
"Never been here, thought it would be fun. Didn't think I'd meet a sweet guy and he'd take me home, but I'm not complaining," she shot me a smile that was 80% mirth and about 20% salaciousness. I joined in, chuckling along with the joke.
"So you thought you'd come to the big city with nothing but... well... I'd say the clothes upon your back but..." I shot back a similar smile, hoping mine just as teasing and not 80% rapist 20% homicidal maniac. Thankfully it appeared I managed to pull it off because instead of running for the door screaming she let out a giggle that was perhaps the most melodic sound I'd ever heard.
