Trusting Desire

Chapter Three

"Roger!" I jump as Mimi runs back in, yelling my name, fuck, what had gotten into her all of a sudden. Where did the sudden energy come from?

"What," I ask, settling back into my spot on the couch.

She doesn't answer immediately, but she is in front of me a second later, dragging the guy by the arm. He's definitely not a bouncer. He is small. Even for an average guy, he is small; his skin is pale, and his thin, really thin. He is wearing a leather top that ends just above his belly button, leather underwear, and a blue bag on his back. But small and pale works for him because he is hot, and I can't take my eyes off him, but something tells me I should, and soon because I can feel heat gathering dangerously low in my stomach. I force my eyes up to his face, but it doesn't help because his face is just as beautiful as the rest of his body. His eyes are bright blue, and they stand out even more against his pale skin. His lips are just as beautiful, and I bet that he looks so fucking hot when he pouts.

"Roger," Mimi says again, pulling me out of my thoughts, "this is Mark."

Mark smiles shyly at me and half raises his hand in a wave, "Hi."

I smile back but don't open my mouth to talk because I know I would say the dumbest shit ever if I did.

"He needs a place to stay," Mimi continues.

I get excited, way too excited over the idea of this man I just met moving in with me, my eyes wander over his boy again, and I wish it was my hands instead; when I realize what I'm doing, I blink and look back at his face hoping he didn't notice. I shrug and say okay, trying desperately to hide my excitement about living with Mark.

"Okay, he can move in?" Mimi asks.

I look at her and then back at him; I wonder if either can tell how much I am internally freaking out, "Sure."

Mark and I leave Mimi's loft a few minutes later and start up the stairs to my, no our, loft. I keep sneaking glances at him; he is focusing on the stairs, so I don't think he sees me looking. We are halfway up the first staircase when I decide I should say something. It takes me until we start the next flight to think of something.

"So, Mark," great start. I roll my eyes at myself, "Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

Nowhere? Fuck, was that too personal to ask?

I laugh and try to joke with him, "Okay, keep your secrets, I guess."

"Sorry–I–"

Shit, he thinks I'm mad, "It's okay, I'm just kidding," I smile at him, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Thanks," he smiles back.

God, why am I so fucking bad at this? I usually don't have any problem talking to people, no matter what gender; I've always been an excellent smooth talker, but something about this guy throws me through a loop. I look over at him; my eyes trace over every part of him. His messy, badly chopped blonde hair, smooth, pale skin, and cute ass.

"Work uniform," Mark laughs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Fuck! He caught me staring; my face was burning as I turned away, "Sorry."

"It's okay."

I want to look and see if he is smiling too or blushing, but I don't dare look at him for the rest of the walk up the stairs.

When we get up to the loft, Mark places his bag on the floor beside the entrance and looks around the loft. I stand facing him, trying not to stare. I'm suddenly embarrassed by the state of the loft. I don't know why. I've never cared before what it looked like when I had guests. Even if I had dates over, I didn't care, but with Mark, I wanted to make the place feel more homey. I look back at him and realize he is waiting for me to say something.

"This is your room," I say, pointing to the first door to the right.

Mark picks up his bag and moves it into the room I indicated. I follow him in.

"Uh–could I take a shower?" he asks, he seems nervous, and I want to make him feel more comfortable.

"Of course," I smile and lead him to a small closet beside the bathroom, handing him a towel.

He thanks me and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The minute the bathroom door closed, I started cleaning, pulling a large trash bag out from a cabinet in the kitchen. I started by picking up all the large pieces of trash from the floor and the tables. Most of the garbage consisted of empty beer bottles, old posters, and scribbled-on scraps of paper that had once been song ideas. As I picked things up, I listened to the sounds in the bathroom. The water didn't start right away. The first noises from the small room sounded like muffled moans of pain, I thought about knocking to ask if he was alright, but I didn't want him to know I could hear him. I wanted to give him his privacy.

So I busied my mind with images rather than sounds, although this was a worse dilemma. Because once the water started, the images of Mark went from him being clothed to him naked, on his knees in the shower. Me standing in front of him, watching as he–I shake my head. What the hell am I doing? I still don't even know if he is Mimi's boyfriend, and I imagine him sucking my dick? I finish the trash and sweep the loft. I try to think about anything or anyone else, but all I can see is Mark. The shower stops, and I put the broom away and sit on the couch. It's just a crush. I'll get over him soon and move on to the next hot guy or chick from the bar. I hope.