Aubrey (Revolving With Axis)

003:

"Are you upstairs?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Looking at your photos."

I had framed photos on the walls of the hallway. I supposed one could be interested in them. It did feel a little invasive having him here. Having him looking at my personal stuff. No one who wasn't family had ever been upstairs in my house. I closed the bathroom door, and quickly changed.

When I came out I stood staring into the mirror. I checked my teeth and then decided to brush them, the handful of mints I'd had in the last two days did not masquerade for a good tooth brush. He must have heard the buzz, because there he was suddenly standing in my bedroom doorway.

Watching me.

O-k-ay.

I should maybe think that was slightly creepy.

But my eye caught his and that amused and very knowing smile was in place on his incredibly sexy lips. For another nanosecond, I had to wonder if his lips-- which were ridiculously expressive were full, or thin, or just very pliant, full, sort of thin...

He actually one finger saluted me and then turned and walked back down the stairs. I let out my breath as I rinsed my mouth, not even realizing I'd been holding it. I re-gathered my heavy hair into another ponytail and tucked it into a messy bun at the nape of my neck. Then mustering all my flagging strength, I skipped down the steps barefoot. Slipped into my flip flops and stood at the door waiting.

"The cat went out." He stood at the patio sliding glass door looking sexy hot. The punker facade was replaced in favor of suave... more mature... less goofy....

"Oh good. You saw it go?" I made my way over to him, intending to shut the door and leave out the front. But he pushed the glass farther open for me.

"I did." He followed me out onto the patio, a slab of stucco cement painted a lovely rusty orange, with white wicker patio furniture leading out to the sea. It was a private beach, as this was also a private gated community. I had lived in something similar all my life.

His hand on my back was warm through my cotton workout suit. I usually wore a camisole under the loose fitting robe in case I got hot, but rarely took it off. I might have to change that habit if he kept touching me.

"You said your picture was an old one. What rank are you now?" He asked me politely.

"Red and Black." I answered as we made our way across the sand to his patio. Sure enough, a little gray tabby cat was pacing on the wall. She meowed as we neared, and I knew she had to be hungry. "You? What rank are you?"

"Black."

"Impressive." I really was impressed. I knew how much work went into mastering the forms and patterns of taekwondo.

"I'm sorry we have to walk through my living room to get to the stairs that go to the basement where my studio is."

"Why? Is it messy? Don't worry about it. I don't care." I assured easily, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

"No, it's not messy. I'm known as a clean freak most of the time, but it does have--- well, you'll see and then the gig will be up."

That was rather cryptic, but I rightly assumed it was because he was about to reveal his professional identity.

We entered the cool air conditioned interior and instantly the cat ran to what I assumed was a hallway leading to the laundry area, at least it would have been if it was my house. I guessed that her food was there. I also realized that perhaps I was about to see clues to his own marital status and family. The gamin punker I'd seen in my garage had taken on a whole new identity since I'd googled him upstairs. It dawned on me that instead of me being older than him as I'd originally assumed, it was very likely he was older than me.

I didn't remember all of Axis history, but I knew enough to be confident that their music had been around since the late-nineties. They were a pop-rock phenomenon with an original flare all their own, owing to Rafe's signature falsetto voice and his incredibly sexy presence. He had the moves for sure. Not that I had seen him in concert. I had been to very few actual concerts in my life, and most of them revolved around family members.

I kicked myself. I really should have recognized him.

"I live here alone." He said, and I knew my brows rose in surprise. He turned to look at me as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Huge monolithic shapes collided on the stairwell and the interior walls and overhead. Hidden lamps illuminated the shadowy perfection of his indie art culture decor. A gigantic poster of the band graced the walls above the fireplace.

I smiled. He was watching me for a reaction.

"I get it." I pretended not to be impressed.

"You knew all along?" He sounded surprised.

I couldn't keep up the pretense and grinned. "I should have. Really. I'm a big fan."

He hung his head. "Aw, shucks."

"What?" I laughed. "Are things going to be all weird now that I know that you're famous? Come on! You're in good hands. I am not impressed by celebrity. I know too many to be crazy about it." Even though my heart was beating a bizarre rhythm.

"I suppose you do." He ran his hand over his bald head and wobbled his head. "Well, neighbor. Shall we? I see that James is already here." He indicated a jacket hanging on a coat rack in the middle of his second living room, and I shook my head curiously. Why would anyone let that be the only furniture in their living area?

We went down the stairs, him following me far too closely, and me trying not to rush, and seem anxious or concerned. It was a strange dance we two were dancing.

James was all business. The studio was far larger than the one I attended in Los Angeles, and we both instantly set out to warm up by running around the significant perimeter. Screens were set up on the walls higher up than I would have been used to, giving it the feel of an indoor gym. I saw the retractable basketball hoops and was doubly impressed. My second love...

James introduced himself briefly, and simply started putting us through forms that would have been fairly easy just to see where I was with my training. After a few minutes, I lost my nervousness and began to concentrate on the Grand Master's skilled voice, and working my body free of several days' worth of tension.

We didn't talk, of course, you wouldn't. It would have been very disrespectful, but I caught Rafe's eye more than once and saw a lot of things in his expression.

Interest.

Attraction.

Respect.

The work out was over too soon. I felt far more loosened up. The weariness had been replaced with tranquility. I thanked them both profusely and prepared to make my way back across the space saying that I was so glad that we'd met, have to do it again-- etc. etc.

"You're not really leaving, are you? Virginia has just arrived. She's ready to give you a massage.

I can't deny that my tired muscles literally jumped with joy at the thought of a massage right now. But staying here was being all too intimate. I declined politely as James let himself out the main front doors.

Rafe eyed me curiously. "Come on."

"Thanks, Rafe, but... yeah, I can't accept a massage. I've already taken advantage of your hospitality."

His gaze narrowed critically, and then he reached out and snagged my shoulder. "I insist."

I pulled away with a laugh to cover my sudden apprehension. "Too much of a good thing, Rafe..."

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