Page 50 of Knot Just for Show

Idon’t know exactly what I had been expecting from my introductions to my future potential packmates…but it certainly was nothing like this evening.

I’ve already made my way to two out of three of the pack lounges I’ve gained access to after the scent matches.

Suzi’s lot of professional sports players and so-called-‘entrepreneurs’ didn’t recognize me on sight. Though I know that one or two of them have likely had to run out onto a field backed by one of my top 40 singles—none of them had been well acquainted enough with gossip rags or music videos to identify me as me.

Not to mention—I nearly slammed headfirst into a dude who looked like he could have turned me inside out and used me as a throw rug on my way into my second pack lounge of the night. I was worried he might have kicked my ass for nearly stepping on his expensive looking shoes—but he only introduced himself as ‘Teddy’ with a funny little smile before he took off—presumably to check out another lounge.

Almost as soon as I got into Brit’s lounge, however—Kurt, the software bro, had recognized me. Apparently, he had been studying abroad during my residency in Ibiza. A few drinks in, he had screamed and slapped the bar excitedly as I had arrived in the pool area—already critically underwhelmed by my earlier lounge experience of the evening.

Once he’d put a name to my face, Hunter excitedly—and very drunkenly, told me about how the first NFL team he’d been with used to run out onto the field to Invincible Now, one of my first #1 singles.

The two of them had been so marinated they barely noticed when I slipped away from their drunken conversation about their other potential matches with relative ease.

Timmy had been waiting dutifully just outside the door to Brittney’s lounge, his clipboard and smart phone in hand.

“Ready to move on? Once I’ve shown you to your third and final accessible lounge, you’ll be allowed to move freely between your quarters and the common areas,” he explains pleasantly, guiding me through several sets of doors and down another incredibly long hallway until we reach another heavy compositedoor with a big brass ‘U’ on its face above a blocked out peep hole.

“Here we are, I think you know the drill by now.” Timmy gestures to the door, passing me a key card as he does so.

I give him a crisp nod and sweep into the room.

For a moment I’m worried it’s entirely empty—then I hear a distant splashing and the chatter of voices coming from the other side of the huge sliding glass doors to the patio.

I emerge into the pool area and am immediately struck with how different this scene is from the others.

Two men, both tall—one with a toss of thick flaming red hair and the other with a messy half-updo of dreads; stand behind the swim up bar assembling what appears to be a tray of snacks and drinks. Even from this distance I can make out bits of fruit, hunks of cheese, thin slices of bread brushed with oil and toasted; little tumblers of bright orange liquid and crags of ice being garnished with what appears to be edible flowers.

In the swimming pool, Teddy—the brick wall of a man I nearly crashed into during my entrance to Brit’s, along with a short, sleek man are laughing loudly and taking turns disappearing beneath the water’s surface to do handstands—quick to shout praise or criticism on the strength of one another’s pointed feet.

All four of them are so engrossed in what they were doing, they hardly seem to notice I’ve arrived at all.

Could it be…they’re actually having fun? Enjoying one another’s company?

I look around at the camera team carefully following both groups of men at a respectable distance. It seems that I’ve managed to escape their notice as well.

“Ahem!” I clear my throat meaningfully, ready to shake off the mantle of stealth I’ve somehow managed to slip in under the auspices of.

“Hey! You made it!” The red-headed man looks up from his delicate work of steadying a blossom atop a delicate configuration of ice and waves to me before wiping his hands on his jeans and lifting one of the beautiful drinks from the bar.

“Alright—there he is, Mister Number Five!” The second bartender laughs, tossing the long cables of his locks over one shoulder as he hefts the large tray of delicious looking goodies onto one shoulder. “C’mon Teddy, Lysander—get outta the pool! Now that we’re all here—it’s time to chow down!” he shouts to the other men in the pool.

“Yeah, get that sloppy pike outta here!” Teddy guffaws, dunking his shorter compatriot beneath the water before splashing his way toward the steps. He only makes it a little further before he disappears beneath the rippling surface of the pool—Lysander presumably pulling him under before exploding from the surface like a lithe merman—bounding for the steps in the shallow water.

“You little shit!” Teddy spits water from his mouth on a laugh as he emerges from the pool, bounding up the tiled steps, deftly catching the balled white towel Lysander throws at him before it hits him square in the face.

“You know what they say—bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Lysander taunts—his towel already wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

I am all at once reminded of summers at my aunt’s swimming pool; me and my cousins running wild under the summer sun as our mothers and fathers—aunts and uncles struggle to wrangle us for meals, baths and bedtime.

As if sucked in by some gravitational pull, I shuffle toward them—the four of them dragging pool loungers and chairs into a crude circle around one of the larger tables.

The redhead leans across the table and places a drink in the open space before me—his river stone eyes fixed on me.

“Hi, I’m Ronan—and this is a ginger-mango spritzer made with a delicious sparkling white burgundy and a bit of elderflower liqueur.”

“Does the mysterious Mr. Number Five have a name?” he ventures, raising his rusty orange eyebrows at me for effect.

“I do, as a matter of fact—Mr. Number Two,” I play along, lifting the glass from the table and giving its contents a gentle swirl before taking a sip. “I’m Ash Dressaliers—and you are?” I raise my glass to him.

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