Page 16 of Light Up The Night
I look at him—bearing, for his sake, direct eye contact for as long as possible. "I thank you, Riley."
He shakes his head, sighing. "That shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
"I am alright now. I was…discombobulated, which triggered an anxiety attack due to unusual surroundings and an unexpected noise during the initial stages of REM sleep."
“Yeah, that'd do it. Well, again, I apologize. Think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"
I nod. "Yes. I believe so."
"I'll leave you to it, then." He smiles at me, and my goodness, the man is just so handsome.
The smile makes my stomach do flips, or so it feels. One's stomach cannot actually flip, nor can one's heart flutter—if it does, one should seek immediate medical attention. In this case, the flip of my stomach indicates a specific emotional response: I am attracted to Riley Crowe.
This is concerning.
My heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, would say that Riley and I are of vastly different stations, and thus eminently unsuitably matched.
It simply will not do to waste any further time or effort considering any manner of attachment between Riley and myself, as such is patently impossible.
He is debonaire, wildly, ruggedly handsome, confident, charming, a homeowner, and a man with useful skills.
Men such as he do not enter romantic entanglements with women such as me.
I shall simply have to recognize my attraction and endeavor to move beyond it without allowing hope to enter the equation.
But my gosh, that smile.
I hear myself sigh as I look in his direction once more, performing a smile in return. "Riley?"
He stops in the open doorway, partially turning back to me. In the light of the hallway, his bare torso is displayed and illuminated to wondrous effect. His abdomen is magnificently developed, with eight large, blocky rectus abdominis muscles which draw my gaze. Most beguiling of all are his iliac furrows—those deep, sharp grooves running beneath the rectus abdominis and the internal and external oblique muscles, vanishing in a V beneath the waistband of his shorts.
Which are…well…quite short, and quite tight. They cling to the enormous girth of his quadriceps, hamstrings, and gluteus muscles, to the degree that little is left to the imagination.
To one with such vast and intimate knowledge of human anatomy such as I, little imagination is required to form a rather accurate visual understanding of his appearance,sans culottes, as the French would say.
I am being disrespectful. It is shameful, and I feel my cheeks burn with the flush of blood as a physiological response to mortification.
I force my gaze away, eyes shutting. I had been about to say something to him, but the thought has fled in the wake of my spinning thoughts.
"Cadence?" He leans against the doorframe. "Was there something else?"
I shake my head. "No. Only…no. Nothing else."
He slaps the frame lightly. "Cool. So, yeah. You need anything, I’m right out there."
"Yes. Thank you."
He closes the door, returning me to darkness.
This time, my sleep is uninhibited.
When I wake again,sunlight is a hot yellow lance bathing me in light and warmth. I am sweating beneath the blankets, and toss them away.
A glance at the cursed alarm clock informs me that I have, most unusually, slept until eleven. I feel refreshed, although the specter of my failed fundraising attempt occupies a large portion of my attention. But once one has rested sufficiently, one can reassess the situation and formulate a new plan.
First, however, I must see to my bodily needs. Once I have finished in the restroom, I return to the bedroom. I dress in the change of clothing from my rucksack—a pale blue ankle-length dress made from loose, breathable cotton with cap sleeves and a square neck- and back-line. Clean undergarments, of course. My worn clothing I roll into a tight cylinder and slot into place with the rest of my things.
Dressed, I withdraw my small satchel of toiletries and brush my teeth and attempt a futile detangling of my hair; without a shower and my curly-hair regimen supplies, however, there is little I can do about the state of my hair.
