The Magic Within Ch 02

Time grinds to a halt when you stare at the clock. Five minutes seemed like one hour. It was Monday morning and I was wishing I was anywhere else but at work. I stared at my phone, at the missed call and the four text message notifications, all from Matt.

Delete them, Cara. Why haven't you deleted them yet?

I wanted to hear his apology, if that's what he was trying to do. Apologize. I wanted to hear him say he made a mistake. That he wanted me back.

But do you really want

him

back?

I thought about the engagement rings we had looked at, and pursed my lips, focusing again at my computer screen. I would not cry at work. It's been two months.

But you were together for three years.

My chair rattled as I shoved backwards, anger making my motions jerky. I needed coffee. It was four thirty but dammit if I needed a boost to get me through the last thirty minutes. In the kitchen, I loaded the K-cup into the Keurig and hit the brew button.

You need to put yourself out there, go on a couple dates.

I looked at my flats, scuffed at the toes from knocking against the plastic legs of my office chair. I couldn't date. I wasn't ready for that. But I needed to stop reminiscing about Matt.

Maybe you just need to fuck someone. Just have meaningless sex. A one night stand.

Rex?

No. I couldn't. He was untouchable. But God, if I didn't get turned on just a little imagining what that would be like.

But why not Rex?

I fidgeted with the pen in my fingers, staring, unseeing, at the spreadsheet in front of me. Why not, indeed. Well, for starters, he was a lot older than I originally thought, which was kind of a barrier in and of itself. He had no reason to be interested in someone so much younger than himself, especially someone who was still trying to figure out which way was up. Which made this morning's couch episode all the more wrong. Plus, even if age wasn't a factor, the lust was probably not mutual, in which case I didn't need the rejection in my life right now.

I debated in silence for a minute, then whipped out my phone. Before I could change my mind, I downloaded the

ISeekYou

hook-up app and created a profile.

Just sex, Cara. Just meaningless sex.

Between gulps of scalding coffee, I browsed through my matches, finally settling on a man named David. He worked in finance as well, and had a notification on his profile saying he was available for drinks tonight. His profile picture was a bit blurry, but he looked handsome enough and we had a few similar interests. I requested a date for tonight, and it was only after pocketing my phone did I realize what I'd just done.

Am I really doing this?

Yes, yes I was.

***

We had agreed to meet at a local bar close to our offices. It was already dark outside by the time I left work to walk the three blocks to

Tasos Bar.

My wool coat kept out most of the wind, though I wished I'd stuck with flats this morning and not my black patent leather heels. My nerves were fluttering like silk ribbons in my chest as I walked, excited and anxious for my date.

The bar was small, nestled between a bookstore and a Thai restaurant, a wooden sandwich board outside colorfully listing the happy hour menu. I found a seat at the far end of the bar and waited, sipping on a glass of white wine. I knew he would be wearing a red scarf, so when I saw him enter, I had a few seconds to study him before he caught sight of me. He waved and I smiled, thinking how funny it was that we greeted each other like friends in a sea of strangers.

He was easy on the eyes. Not very tall, but still taller than me, with brown curls and warm, brown eyes. He wore jeans and a dress shirt, his company lanyard sticking out of his back pocket. "Cara?" We shook hands and he enveloped me in a hug. Quickly covering my surprise, I hugged him back, pleased. "It's wonderful to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," I said, blushing.

"I see you ordered already. Mind if I?" I shook my head.

The conversation flowed easily, which was surprising considering we had met through a hook-up service. David was handsome, smart, and conversationally engaging. I found myself wondering what his body looked like under those clothes. Just the thought of being with someone new was exciting—thrilling. And all of a sudden, I really did want this to happen. I wanted rough, raw, passionate sex. I wanted to feel sexy and desired. As the alcohol flowed, I got a little less anxious, and a little more flirty. I found excuses to touch him—his hand, his forearm, his thigh. I saw how his gaze dipped down to the V of my blouse, how his eyes followed my fingers as they tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

Three drinks in, I was throbbing with heat and desire between my legs. I shifted to ease the ache, and I knew David could tell the effect he had on me, because he looked at me with a little smile, his eyes darkening. "Do you want to go back to my place?" he asked with a laugh that made me blush.

"Mine is closer," I murmured.

It was a little after ten o'clock when we left the bar for my apartment. We didn't make it past the lobby.

***

To be more specific, we made it to the back stairwell. We were both pretty drunk, and when you're that drunk, everything feels good. David tasted like Guinness and smelled like the leather from his car. He pressed me hard against the wall, letting the door to the stairwell slam shut behind us. Beneath the fluorescent lights, he kissed me, his body pressed against the length of mine. It was quiet, save for the echo of our heavy breathing and the rustle of fabric as we fumbled with each other's clothes. I wasn't planning on getting naked, but heavy petting was definitely on the menu, and I think David had the same idea in mind.

"You are so sexy," he breathed into my ear, and playfully bit my earlobe, making me sigh. His hands gripped my waist, pulling my dress shirt up. His fingers were warm against my bare skin. It felt nice, considering the stairwell was a few degrees colder than average. He mumbled something unintelligible, bringing his hands up to cradle my face.

I wrapped one leg around his waist, which he took as an invitation to slide his hand up my skirt. His hand massaged my ass cheek and dipped forward, tracing the growing wet spot on my panties that signaled my arousal. I groaned against his mouth as he pressed firmly with his hand, rubbing and occasionally pushing his fingers a little further in. God, that felt so good. I wanted him to push the fabric aside and touch me with his fingers, skin-to-skin. I wriggled in frustration, my own hand reaching down to his crotch, wrestling with his belt buckle.

My fingers closed around his rigid length and he made a noise between a gasp and a sigh, aggressively capturing my mouth with his own. All I could think about was getting him out of those pants and—Rex's face floated into my mind's eye.

No!

I did not need to be thinking about Rex right now.

An image flashed across my vision, of Rex and I locked in a fiery embrace in a darkened room. He was playing with my breasts, gently tugging my nipples into hard, dark pebbles while I undulated restlessly beneath him, my fingers running tracts down his back. He was moving over me, thrusting slowly, and I was crying out from the searing heat of him inside me, filling me just right...

I tore my mouth from David's, feeling traitorous. He pressed his forehead against my own, panting.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I wasn't sure how to respond. I wasn't aroused anymore—at least, not by him. "I'm sorry." I blinked, coming down from my high. "I'm just...a little overwhelmed."

Disappointment passed across his features, but David managed to compose himself. "Overwhelmed?" he repeated, trying to understand. His eyes searched mine. "Overwhelmed in a bad way," he confirmed when I looked away. "Did I do something wrong?"

I let out a breath, still not looking at him, hating myself for what I was about to say. "I—I don't think I can do this."

There was a moment of awkward silence as we both stood in the stairwell, our clothes rumpled. I felt like an asshole. "I'm sorry," I said again as David tucked himself back in his pants. He looked more than unhappy.

"It's fine." It wasn't. I'd ruined his night. He opened the door to the lobby and paused, turning back to look at me. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, looking worried this time. Great. He thought I was going to call the cops and report a sexual assault. "Can I walk you to your apartment?" I was about to shake my head, but thought better of it.

In the lobby, we pressed the button for the fifth floor and waited in silence. I fervently wished I hadn't had that last glass of wine. I could already tell I'd have a headache the next morning. The front doors opened with a whoosh and footsteps sounded behind us.

"Late night?" Rex asked. I turned around. He had just come from the gym. Standing next to David, I was acutely aware of how the man dwarfed my date, and not just in height.

David chuckled. "A little too late, apparently," he muttered.

I bristled. "Actually, David, you don't need to walk me to my floor."

Not after that comment,

I wanted to add, but decided to keep things civil.

"No, I insist," David said, sounding like he'd rather swallow a hairball.

I glanced quickly at Rex, embarrassed at having him witness our exchange. He was looking at my dress shirt, which was halfway untucked from my waistband. Crap. Why did I feel guilty? I shifted, feeling wetness between my thighs.

"You left your dress at my place," Rex said conversationally. I blanched.

David looked confused.

The elevator dinged.

"I can walk her up," Rex said to him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I live down the hall from her."

"Oh." David looked unconvinced. "Okay. Well—" he cast a nervous glance at me. "I guess I'll head out, then."

Asshole.

I stepped into the elevator, for some reason feeling apprehensive. I wasn't sure why. Rex moved in behind me.

Keep your eyes on his face,

I thought to myself sternly, all too aware of how close we were standing in the small elevator. The sleeveless shirt did everything to reveal the body underneath. I thought of his fingers rolling my nipples to puckering peaks.

It wasn't a memory...or was it?

"Who was that?" Rex asked.

"A date."

"Some date."

"It wasn't

that

kind of a date," I scowled, wanting to burrow into my comforter and forget the whole night had happened. "I just—I just needed a distraction." I felt helpless agains the tide of frustration building in me. The elevator was too small, I needed more air.

He was looking at my rumpled dress shirt again. "A distraction," he repeated.

What was he thinking? Why did I care? He caught me watching him and looked away, the corner of his eyes tightening ever so slightly.

Look, I want to fuck you. Really badly. But I can't, so I thought I'd settle for a casual hook-up. Except that ended in disaster because I kept thinking about you the entire time.

I squeezed my thighs together, trying to soothe the throbbing at their apex. I felt another pearl of wetness seep from my swollen entrance and slide down to the slippery mess between my thighs. Why did he make me feel this way? Was it because I spent the night on his couch? Was it because of my breakup with Matt—I just threw myself at the first guy who showed compassion to me? And what was with the strange emotions and fantasies? Fantasies that felt so very real?

When the doors opened, I made a dash for it.

"Cara," Rex called. "Don't you want your dress?"

"Oh!" I stopped and waited for him to catch up. "Sorry." I made a face. "Memory like a goldfish."

"Hang on, I'll grab it," Rex muttered, opening the door. I could hear the TV blaring in the living room. Uncertain, I waited outside.

When he opened the door, I caught a glimpse of a blonde in the living room, sauntering toward the couch. Her back was to me, but she looked young judging from her skinny jeans and loose T-shirt. There was a black suitcase in the foyer. Her boots were next to them, scuffed black leather and worn heels.

Not your business, Cara.

"Here you go," Rex said, handing me my dress. His thoughts were already pre-occupied on something else.

"Thanks," I said, feeling two feet tall. "I'll see you later."

Back in my apartment, I hung my dress in my closet and showered, all the while kicking myself for how stupid I must have looked next to him in that elevator, looking like I'd been felt up and perhaps more. It was a wonder he wasn't able to

smell

me.

I was still wallowing in self-disgust when I emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a tank top and jersey shorts. Toweling my hair dry, I plugged in the Google Dot on my nightstand and directed it to a classical station on my Spotify account. Soft notes from a piano floated through the bedroom, putting me in a better mood. I spent some minutes tidying up, taking empty glasses to the sink and tossing old mail.

Mary-Anne texted, asking how the date went.

Not well,

I replied, a dish rag in my other hand as I wiped the kitchen counters clean.

I'm home alone.

What happened?!

Kept thinking about someone else.

Who?

Some guy in my building.

A loud gust of wind whipped by the living room windows, sending the wind chimes sounding two balconies down. I jerked my head up, staring into the blackness beyond the glass.

My phone chimed and I looked down, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. I hoped it wasn't another migraine.

I checked my phone but Mary-Anne was silent. I did, however, see about five notifications from my work email. My head throbbed. I popped some Ibuprofen and curled up on the couch, thumbing the TV to reruns of

Friends.

Eventually, the throbbing eased and I fell asleep, bathed in the glow of the TV and the gentle notes of Beethoven.

***

Smoke obscured my vision. It was night, but there was a bright light in front of me. I realized they were fires—many fires, blazing with angry red and orange flames, spitting sparks and roiling waves of intense heat. I was in the middle of the blaze, crying, angry, running down a corridor of red. My mouth was open and I was screaming something.

I was on my back, outside. It was dark and cool. Hands held me down but I struggled against them, got one arm free, was crouching. Someone was at my shoulder, pleading, but all I could hear were the sounds of my own sobs.

I awoke with a start, my hair matted to my neck, breathing hard. Panic and fear filled my senses. There were tears running down my cheeks. Gulping for air, I scrambled to a sitting position, wiping my face but still feeling like I had had my heart ripped from my chest. One look at my phone showed me it was two thirty-two in the morning. The TV was still on, but now it was showing late-night product sales programs. A man stood behind a counter slicing soda cans with a long-handled knife.

I took a gulp of water from the glass sweating on the coffee table, my hand shaking. That was not a normal dream.

There was a sound outside, and I turned to look out at my balcony, empty save for a chair and small table. The window by the balcony doors was open, letting in a cool breeze.

That's weird.

It was closed when I fell asleep. I was sure of it.

I got up and inspected the latch mechanism along the middle rim. Nothing was broken or loose. Uneasy, I closed it, then opened the door to the balcony, going to sit on the lone fold-out chair.

It's nothing,

I reassured myself. The window had probably been unlatched for a while just waiting for a heavy gust to pry it open.

Kicking my feet up onto the railing, I took in the view, letting the breeze dry the sweat on the back of my neck. Four floors below me was the parking lot, a checkerboard of glinting hoods and empty spaces. Beyond it, Hunter Boulevard with its strip of median, and on the other side, Hawthorne Park. A row of thick oak trees obscured my view of the lake at its center, but I could see glimpses of the walking trail and a bit of the tennis court off to the side.

As I sat there, I thought about the uneasy wisps of dreams I'd been having, and the fantasies involving Rex that felt strangely real. This late at night (or early in the morning, technically), with no one outside, it was deathly quiet. Peaceful. Well, it would have been peaceful, if I hadn't just woken up from a nightmare. My thoughts turned inward.

There had been a fire in a house or building, and I had been inside it, running to get out. The scene had felt both familiar and alien. I knew that dreams sometimes felt very real in the moment, but there was something about this one that was unusual. It bothered me more than it should have, but I didn't know why. Something was niggling at the edge of my mind, in much the same way as when you fail to find the right word to describe something—you know it's there, but for the life of you it fails to come to mind.

There were muted voices coming from Rex's apartment. The blinds were closed, but I could see a faint blueish glow around the edges of the sliding door of the patio. At least they weren't sex noises. That would have been awkward.

Unbidden, an image of Rex and I surfaced, as if from the depths of a black and endless ocean. My skin was hot and damp. Hair was in my eyes. And there was a delicious sensation between my legs that left my mouth parted for a gasp that was never-ending. And Rex...Rex was behind me, over me, one hand between my legs, parting my folds with fingers large enough to make me squeal, helpless, beneath him.

I stood abruptly, the patio chair skidding backwards. The back hit the glass of the sliding door with a clank. I knew I had grown wet.

I thought back to David and our failed coupling. Maybe I should have soldiered on with him instead of brushing him off. Maybe if we'd fucked, I wouldn't be craving Rex still.

The sound of a sliding door being pushed open interrupted my tangle of thoughts. The source of my problem stepped out onto his balcony. I felt my breath freeze inside my lungs.

He didn't notice me at first, his gaze going down to the parking lot, perhaps trying to suss out the source of the noise he'd heard. Maybe if I stood very still, he wouldn't see me. A slight breeze ruffled his dark hair and brought his gaze up level to mine.

"Bad dream," I blurted out lamely when our eyes met. "I'm sorry if I woke you." Over his shoulder, I saw the blue light of the TV, and wondered if there was anyone else sitting on that couch just out of view.

Rex saw where I was looking and reached over to casually slide the door shut, effectively blocking my view into his apartment. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Of all the scenarios I expected this conversation to go, that question was not in the script of any of them. "It was nothing," I said lightly. "But thanks."

He nodded. "Does that happen a lot? You not being able to sleep?"

I shrugged, looking out at the park. "Not really. The past week or so has been particularly bad."

Rex's brow was furrowed, staring down at the cars below. "So you've had other nightmares?" he clarified.

At that moment the blonde stepped out, sleep-eyed but instantly alert when she realized Rex was speaking to someone.

"Oh, hello," she said curiously, her eyes going from Rex to me, questioning.

"Marabelle, this is Cara. Cara, this is my colleague, Marabelle."

Colleague, my ass.

She was wearing a thin tank top with obviously no bra, and linen shorts. I felt disgusted with myself for even entertaining those prior thoughts about Rex, and would have pushed off into the apartment if I wasn't so damn polite.