Page 14 of Body and Soul

A faint flush stained his pale cheeks, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes. “So what, this is some kind of fucked up savior complex? You want to swoop in and rescue the poor, damaged kid?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don't see you as someone who needs rescuing. I see a young man who has been through hell and come out the other side. Someone with incredible strength and resilience, even if he doesn't fully recognize it in himself yet.”

Eli's fingers stilled on his tattoos, but he still wouldn't look at me. “You don't know me.”

“You're right,” I agreed. “I don't know everything about you. But I'd like to, if you'll let me. I'm not offering to be your savior, Eli. I'm offering to be your guide. Your mentor.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air between us. “Your dom.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes wide and startled. “What?”

I leaned forward. “I saw how you reacted to me at the club. How desperate you were to please me, even in that briefencounter. You have a deep need to submit, to give yourself over to someone else's control.”

Eli swallowed hard, a mix of fear and longing flickering in his eyes. “I don't... I can't...”

“Yes, you can,” I said firmly. “You're afraid. Afraid of your own desires. Afraid of what it might mean to truly let go.” I reached across the table, slowly so as not to startle him, and laid my hand over his.

Eli’s hand twitched beneath mine, but he didn’t pull away. His breath hitched slightly, his gaze still wide and startled. I could feel the conflict rolling off him—the fear, the yearning, the hesitation.

“You’re not alone in this, Eli,” I said softly, my voice threading through the tension between us. “I’ll be here, guiding you. I’ll help you embrace what you’ve been running from.”

His eyes flickered, panic rising to the surface again. For a moment, I thought he might bolt, pull his hand away, make some excuse to leave. But instead, he sat there, frozen in place, his fingers trembling under my touch.

“I’m not asking you to decide anything right now,” I continued, my tone steady, soothing. “Think about it. Let it settle in. And when you’re ready, you’ll know where to find me.”

Eli swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. His eyes dropped to the table, his voice barely a whisper. “I... I don’t know if I can trust you.”

I squeezed his hand gently, then released him, leaning back in my chair to give him space. “That’s okay. Trust takes time.” I offered a small smile. “Take all the time you need.”

He looked at me, uncertainty written all over his face, but there was something else there, too. Something deeper. Something I could use.

Eli stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. “I should go. I have a shift at McHappy’s in a few hours.”

I nodded slowly, keeping my expression calm. “I’ll see you soon.”

Without another word, he turned and left, his steps hurried, but his gaze lingered on me one last time before the door closed behind him.

I watched him go, the corner of my mouth curving up.

He would be back, and next time, he’d give me everything I asked for and more.

I bolted awake suddenly,heart pounding as the remnants of a nightmare slipped away like fog. The sickly red glow of the alarm clock told me I had less than an hour before my shift at McHappy’s.

“Shit,” I muttered, throwing off the sweat-soaked sheets and scrambling to find something clean to wear in the disaster zone that was my room.

Discarded clothes, crumpled sketchbooks, and empty beer cans cluttered every surface. I grabbed a white tank top that didn't smell too rank and tugged on the least-stained up pair of uniform pants I could find. My work visor was nowhere to be found. I'd have to borrow Hal’s again and hope the manager didn't notice.

Stumbling out into the narrow hallway, I nearly collided with Ketchup coming out of the bathroom, a cloud of weed smoke and cheap hair gel trailing behind him. He grunted something that might've been a good morning before shuffling back to the room he shared with Cherry.

In the grimy kitchen, I yanked open the fridge, hoping there might be a slice of pizza or some leftover Chinese food I could grab for breakfast. No such luck. Nothing but a half-empty jar of pickle juice and some moldy hot dog buns. There were a few packages of ramen in the cupboard, but I knew better than to touch Hal's stash. Looks like I’d be surviving on ketchup packets and stale fries again—my gourmet breakfast of champions.

As I reached for my nametag, buried under a pile of crumpled receipts and old napkin sketches, my mind drifted back to the coffee shop yesterday. Shepherd had sat across from me, all chiseled jawline and tailored suit, looking like he'd stepped out of a high-end magazine. And there I was, in my fraying hoodie and scuffed sneakers, trying not to gape at the price of his watch.

He'd sipped his espresso, dark eyes never leaving mine, as he'd laid out his proposition to be my mentor and my dom.

I'd nearly choked on my Americano. A guy like him, polished and confident, and a screw-up like me? It felt absurd, like a fantasy I had no right to entertain. But there was something in the way he looked at me, something hungry and intense, that made my skin prickle with a strange mix of fear and anticipation.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the memory as I shrugged on my uniform shirt and tucked it in. I couldn't afford to get distracted, not when I was already cutting it close on my share of rent this month. Shepherd and his world of fancy suits and BDSM dungeons would have to wait.

I patted my pockets, hoping I'd stashed a crumpled five or a few ones somewhere, but they were empty. Figures. I was flat broke until payday. Looks like I'd be hoofing it to work again.

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