8. MAYBE IT’S ME #2
I walk hesitantly up the steps, my eyes adjusting to the light slowly when I open the door.
There’s another bar up here, but it looks even more extravagant.
It’s set up toward the back, and there are people ordering drinks and walking around.
Most tables are occupied, and I briefly wonder where he is, but then I get a glimpse of golden hair at the far end of the rooftop, near the rail.
He’s standing with a camera in his hands, and as I get closer, I can hear the shutter going off as he captures the setting sun once more.
I can’t help but stare, enchanted by his otherworldly beauty.
His posture is perfectly straight, and he carries himself with a confidence and poise I’ve never seen on anyone before.
It’s fascinating to see him in his element, completely entranced and focused on what he’s doing.
Seems he really is obsessed with sunsets. Seems I really am obsessed with him.
My hands grip the rail beside him, and I gaze at his profile—small nose, curved slightly upward at the tip, full lips that are set in an almost pout right now, a cleft in his chin.
His eyes are focused even when he lowers his camera momentarily, the blue of them such a light shade that they’re almost transparent.
I’ve noticed that his eyes turn different shades depending on what he’s wearing, how the light hits them, and how he’s feeling.
The sun makes them look lighter. Black suits make them brighter than ever.
Arousal makes them darken until they look like the deepest parts of the ocean—places I’m not sure anyone has ever visited before.
I want to drown in those depths. I want to never come back up. I want—
“You made it,” Kenneth says with a grin, eyes sparkling as if he’s happy. Is he happy? Is this what that emotion looks like on his perfect face? “Didn’t think you would.”
“I, uh—” I can feel my cheeks heating as I stammer. “Really wanted to see the sunset.”
Kenneth smirks. “So you didn’t want to see me? I’m wounded.”
“Sure you are.” I roll my eyes. “You’ve been dying to see me so badly, you didn’t even talk to me for three days.”
“Have you been counting the hours?”
“Would it make a difference?” I snap, and he chuckles.
“I guess not,” he says with a frown, looking ashamed of himself.
“Are you going to apologize, Kenneth?” I ask tersely, and I know I’m being bitchy, but I can’t even help it.
Ken flinches, and I let out a long exhale, trying to calm down. His eyes are full of pain when he looks at me, and he brushes his thumb under my eye as he cups my cheek. The touch is so soft it’s barely there, but I feel it. I feel everything he does.
“Did you lose sleep over this?” he asks as he brushes his thumb under my eye again, and I know he’s referring to the dark circles underneath.
I huff. “I’m leaving.” I can’t believe him.
Ken’s hand tightens on my face, and he grabs my hip, trying to get me to stay. “I’m so sorry, Conrad.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask stubbornly through gritted teeth.
His eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry for ghosting you.”
I nod slowly. “Why did you ghost me?”
“Because I’m scared?”
“Of what?” I look into his eyes, at the tears that won’t fall.
“I don’t know,” he lies, but I let it slide for now.
“Then why come back?”
“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he replies, getting closer, pressing his nose to my neck and breathing me in. “I want you.”
I stay silent, closing my eyes as I feel his nose trailing up my neck, and then he presses a soft kiss to the side of it. “I—”
But I don’t finish.
I don’t know what to say.
Ken steps back and looks at me. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad you’re here.”
I don’t even know what to say, so I just stare at him for a long moment while I gather my thoughts. But before I can think of a clever reply, he raises his camera and snaps a picture of me.
My jaw drops. “Did you just take a picture of me?”
“You’re gorgeous,” he says, coming closer once more until his body is flush with mine.
He’s using it against me, I know he is. He’s aware of my weakness when it comes to him.
I can’t quite resist him. He’s a weapon right now, and I know I don’t stand a chance at survival.
“Your green eyes darken in the sun instead of growing lighter. Did you know that?”
I shake my head.
“They’re the color of pine trees. A forest. Absolutely hypnotizing,” he breathes against my ear. “You look so handsome, Conrad.”
I take a shaky breath in, letting it out slowly. “So do you.”
And he does.
He’s wearing brown dress pants and a fitted cream top. It’s cropped, exposing his abdomen slightly, right above the waistband of his pants. His cream Oxford dress shoes tie everything together, and I can’t help but admire him.
“Can I take another photograph?” he asks, his right hand squeezing my hip. The heat of his body against mine is a reminder of the night when he was on top of me, moving against me, and I can feel myself growing half-hard in my pants.
I nod once, and he moves away, turning me this way and that until I’m facing away from him.
He stands to my side and takes a picture of my face, gasping slightly when the shutter goes off.
I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
I wonder if I make him feel anything at all.
He doesn’t do relationships—that’s what he said.
It only makes me want that even more. Maybe I am a masochist.