THE MAGIC WITHIN *2019
Hello, Dear Reader! Long- time lurker, getting my feet wet. Please bear with me, this is a slow build story in the genre of urban fantasy. The magic and fantasy part doesn’t come right away, but it will, I promise! I wanted to try and write a story that was slow and somewhat dark, but very heavy on mood and sensations. I’d appreciate feedback/ comments. *** I first noticed him in October, when I was fumbling in my purse for my keys. It had been raining, and my hair was wet from the walk from my car to the awning of the apartment building. The window at the end of the hall was dark and lashed with droplets—it looked like tonight was gearing up to be a bad one. All I could think about was a hot shower and eating some of that leftover chili from dinner with Angela the night before. I really should have been thinking about unpacking—I had moved in two months ago, and most of my possessions were still in boxes. But I just hadn’t found the energy to sort through my belongings. This weekend, I thought determinedly. I’ll unpack everything this weekend. Su- u-ure. My cold, wet fingers closed around the house keys and I pulled them out, jamming them into the lock, only to find that it would not turn. “Damn it,” I muttered, jiggling the key. It was really stuck. I heard the sound of heavy boots and looked up. It was my neighbor, a mountain of a man, at least six foot four inches if that. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket spotted with rain, he looked perhaps more wet than me. I met his curious gaze, and then, embarrassed, looked back down at my traitorous key. I heard his door ease open and lifted my head to find him looking at me again. When our eyes locked, he pressed his lips into a thin, acknowledging line and flicked his eyebrows up. A universal gesture of a non-committal smile. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut. My shoulders loosened. I sighed quietly, staring down in annoyance at the door knob. Giving it one last try, I re-inserted my key and turned it. With a soft pop, the door opened. For a minute I stared stupidly at it, uncomprehending. Coming to with a little shake, I pushed my way into the apartment, turning on lights and throwing my bag onto the couch. As I pulled the container of chili out of the fridge, my stomach let out a loud grumble. Chuckling, I grabbed the orange juice and drank a glass while I waited for my food to heat. I flicked the TV on so there would be background noise, and wandered into the bedroom. The sofa, TV, and bed were about the only things unpacked. My dishes were still in boxes, and half my clothes had been hung in the closet. I quickly changed into my pajamas and washed the makeup off my face. By the time I was done, the chili was ready and waiting. I won’t lie, it was kind of lonely here. I had moved from my best friend’s house to an apartment an hour away, to be closer to work. But tonight I began to wish I hadn’t struck out on my own. I missed Angela and her little Scottish terrier. They had been lifesavers for me after my break up. But Angela had just gotten engaged to her long-time boyfriend, and I couldn’t stay and be a third wheel. But did you really have to move so far away? A tiny voice complained. You don’t know anyone in this city, and this apartment is on the edge of town. It was the only one I could afford, though. I figured I’d move after a year or two, depending on how awful management was. Sure, the hallways had stained carpeting and wallpaper, and yeah the paint job in my bathroom was kind of patchy, but the bathtub was clean, and I had my own deck with a tiny table and chair. It would do until I could afford something better. Stomach sated, I channel-surfed for a bit before deciding on a whim to move my bookshelf by the window and unpack some books. It was kind of nice to do something instead of sit and stare at the TV. It kept my mind off things—like my own breakup, which still felt raw even though it had been two months ago. Matt cheating on me was why I had moved in with Angela in the first place. Even now, remembering his offending text messages still brought back intense emotions. You’re a sucker for misery, Cara, I thought to myself sternly. I supposed it was somehow true. Why else would I be in a crappy apartment by myself, away from family and friends, a year later? The thought of dating made me feel vaguely sick. I wasn’t sure I wanted the emotional attachment yet, and until I made up my mind, it was just going to be me and a stack of romance novels. Later that night, after I had cleaned up in the kitchen, showered, and was snuggling into my pillows, the shadows from the trees outside gliding along my stark bedroom walls, I thought about the neighbor. Or rather, I thought about his eyes. They were not unusual eyes—but they were very dark. Bottomless. The kind of eyes that seemed to swallow you whole. I feel asleep to the image of them, sleep claiming me as swiftly as the rain that whipped past my window. Two weeks went by without any sign of the man next door. Then, one Saturday afternoon as I returned from my jog, he was there, exiting the gym across the street. I didn’t expect to see him, and only barely managed to avert my gaze as he turned his head in my direction. I registered that my heart rate picked up just a bit, which was a feat since I had just run three miles and was pretty wiped out. Wow, he was tall. I feigned nonchalance as I fell into step a few yards behind him, making sure to keep a bit of a distance. I watched as he adjusted his earbuds, his pace leisurely, unhurried. He reached the door and held it open for me, giving me the now familiar eyebrow flick that was his version of a smile. I gave a small smile in return and entered, heading to the bank of mailboxes in the back corner. “Excuse me,” the man murmured, sliding behind me. My heart jumped into my throat at the sudden proximity of his body to mine. I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he moved to stand to my right. He had spoken with a trace of what I thought was an accent, it was hard to tell. It sounded German, or Russian. You’ve never been with a German or a Russian, my mind observed lazily. An image of me in bed with him flickered through my brain. In my fantasy, I saw his hand span the length of my thigh, catching on the bed sheets as it moved up to cradle my hip. There was a jolt of electricity through my mind that caught me off guard as the memory…no, not memory, fantasy, seemed to solidify. I could almost feel the warmth of those fingers on my cool skin. Up close, he was much bigger than I had first observed. Big everywhere, but not disgustingly so, since he was so tall. Not like Erik Gothward, my first boyfriend. He had been all arms and legs, a graceful giraffe. This man was thick and solid. I felt a blossom of warmth drop from my belly to a place much lower. The man riffled through his letters beside me, oblivious. Desperate to break away, I strode to the elevator, taking deep, even breaths, feeling lightheaded and knowing it wasn’t from my run. Those romance novels just weren’t cutting it anymore. The elevator was ancient and on the verge of collapse. It rumbled and groaned its way down to the lobby, reluctantly opening its scratched aluminum doors for admittance. Unfortunately, because it had taken so long to arrive, the man got on with me. It was the longest ten seconds of my entire life. When the doors finally opened on a ding, I let out a silent breath. He was waiting for me to exit first, so I did, flicking him the briefest of smiles in thanks. “Miss?” His voice said, close behind me. I was almost to my door and turned. He held my key fob, which had fallen out of my back pocket. I blushed and took it, mumbling something unintelligible because I didn’t want to stare into his bottomless eyes too long. I could feel him standing there watching me as I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside. There was something dark about him, and it wasn’t just his hair or the fact that he looked like he should be in a movie about marauding Vikings. The distance from the front door to the shower was short, giving me a few moments to turn those thoughts in my head as I walked. The shower sputtered reluctantly to life and I drew the curtain closed to let it warm up, making a note to buy more shampoo that weekend. It took forever for the cold water to give way to heat, and I stepped in as soon as I felt the temperature shift, impatient, letting the warmth cascade in delightful ribbons down my flesh. In my mind’s eye, I was showering in his apartment, and he was opening the door to the bathroom. He would give me that sexy eyebrow arch, his dark eyes traveling the length of my naked body—my slicked back hair, flushed cheeks, soap-tipped breasts, the dark thatch of hair at the apex of my thighs—before coming back to rest on my face. I imagined my fingers running through his hair, water coursing down the planes of his back as we kissed… The hot water was waning. Already? I opened my eyes, droplets dotting my lashes, and groaned in frustration. I supposed it didn’t really matter. Masturbation in the shower had never been something I could do successfully. Turning the water off, I toweled myself dry and finished in my bed, under the covers, my fingers rubbing furiously, bringing me to a rending, roiling fever-pitch of pent-up sexual energy. I gasped in pleasure at the apex of my orgasm, his face fluttering before my eyes. I felt perverted, but strangely triumphant, like I had somehow managed to steal a part of him for myself. I stayed in bed for a little while after, enjoying the quiet, listening to my breath slow. My mind turned back to Matt, and I sobered. He would always play with my hair after sex. He’d bury his nose in it and breathe and tell me it smelled like unicorns, whatever they smelled like. I quickly sat up and dressed, suddenly feeling cold. Tears p

SOURCE: www.emperorblog.com.ng/the-magic-within-ch-01-by-the_duke_is_in/

THE MAGIC WITHIN CHAPTER 1 CONTD
We’d agreed to meet at a bar called Rusty’s, about halfway between where I lived and where Angela lived, on the corner of Maple and Donovan. I’d made some effort with my dress and makeup, which was saying something since I hadn’t planned to change out of my work clothes to meet them. We’d agreed to meet at a bar called Rusty’s, about halfway between where I lived and where Angela lived, on the corner of Maple and Donovan. I’d made some effort with my dress and makeup, which was saying something since I hadn’t planned to change out of my work clothes to meet them.




The bar was already crowded when I arrived, and the side tables were all taken, so we were stuck at the bar. It wasn’t bad, at first. We had a round of drinks and caught up with each other. Most of it was talk about Angela’s wedding planning. The usual stressors were in place: paring down the guest list, picking out the flowers, and trying to decide if they wanted live music or a DJ. “Just Bleep it all,” Mary-Anne said at one point with a wave of her hand. “Save a bunch of money and elope to Vegas.”



Angela shot our friend a withering look. “If I’m going to elope anywhere,” she said, stabbing the olive in her drink with her toothpick, “It’s going to be somewhere with a beach and margaritas. Not hookers and chintzy heart-shaped beds.” She popped the olive in her mouth, lost in thought. “This is just…not how I pictured wedding planning.” “Why can’t you just tell his mom you don’t want their neighbors there?” I ventured. “You don’t know them and it’s already eighty dollars a head. You only have so many seats.” Angela was one of my best friends, but she was a people-pleaser, often to her own detriment. Her future mother-in-law, Barb, was a hard woman to please. Put the two of them together and you had a combustible mix. I had no doubt Angela would one day have enough of Barb—when that day came, all hell would break lose.




“Plus, you and Logan are the ones paying for it, right?” Mary-Anne pointed out. Angela winced. “They’re paying for the venue, but that’s it.” She looked from Mary-Anne to me. “It’s a huge chunk of change, which is why I don’t know what to do. She’d kill me if we eloped.”




Mary-Anne scoffed. “So dramatic, Angie,” she drawled, leaning to one side, the drinks seeming to have caught up with her. “Roger!” She was on a first-name basis with the bartender, a forty-something man with a gray-white, close-cropped beard. “I think we are going to need another round of drinks.” Out of the three of us, Mary-Anne was the most outspoken, the one with the no- nonsense, dry humor. I liked her because I felt like she would always give me her honest opinion, even if sometimes it stung. She seemed to make friends easily, opening up lines of conversation with complete strangers wherever we were. Rusty’s was a bar she had introduced us to, and Roger a long- time friend, perhaps even a former lover. Angela and I weren’t sure— Mary-Anne had a lot of hot-looking male friends. It was hard to tell sometimes.




Roger set down a couple beers for the two men at the other end of the bar and wiped his hands on the bar towel cinched to his belt. “Long day?” he asked her, coming over to us. “What’ll it be?” As he got our drinks, playfully bantering back and forth with us, I relaxed, thoughts of work and Matt swirling into a pleasant gray blur. What I’d do to have my thoughts wiped clean. Blank.



I didn’t really feel like something was wrong until later in the night, when nausea swallowed me like a tidal wave. We had ordered food, so at first I assumed I had eaten something bad. But the feeling was wrong. I’d had food poisoning when I was younger, and knew what it felt like. This feeling was different. My head felt like it was swimming away from my body. “Cara, are you okay? You look really pale all of a sudden,” Angela said, concerned. “I feel a little weird,” I acknowledged sheepishly.



“I’m sorry,” Mary-Anne apologized. “I was so busy talking about myself I didn’t realize how quiet you’ve been.” She cast a look over me worriedly, noting my pale face. “Maybe you should call it a night?” she suggested. We had been out for a little over two hours. “Yeah, I think I will. I’m sorry,” I murmured, getting up. My friends hugged me, assured me it was perfectly fine, and asked if I needed a ride home. “No, I’m sober, thanks.” “Well, text me when you get home,” Angela said. “It’s raining out, so please be careful.” “I will!”



But my headache was getting worse. By the time I parked I was wincing from the pain. It was raining heavily now, and every now and again a crack of thunder sounded directly above my head. Damn this place and the constant rain. I stumbled toward the awning, doing my best to cover myself with my parka.



Inside, everything seemed much too bright. The lamps flanking the front doors of the lobby, the recessed ceiling lights in the hallway. I took the stairs up, since I didn’t want to wait for the elevator. It took me much longer than necessary to find my keys. All I could think about was the Advil in the kitchen. I felt like I was suffocating. Or maybe I was hyperventilating. My fingers closed around the clunky keychain in my purse.



“Damn it!” I swore. The lock was jammed again. I tried to pull my key out but it was stuck, too. My head throbbed painfully. I bent over at the waist, breathing hard and feeling miserable. I wished I were in bed. Being horizontal sounded like paradise right about now. Tears pricked my eyes. What was happening to me?




Someone entered my peripheral field of vision, a large shadow that knelt to look into my face. “Are you okay?” The accent pinged in my brain. It was my neighbor. He smelled like soap and clean linen. He had changed clothes, though he was still dressed for indoors in dark sweats and a T- shirt. A full basket of clean laundry sat in front of his door.



I looked up at those dark, bottomless eyes, wanting to cry. “I feel sick,” I managed to say. “My head is killing me.”


He was silent, watching me. He got up and tried to open my door. I heard him jiggle the knob a few times before realizing it was jammed.

SOURCE: www.emperorblog.com.ng/the-magic-within-ch-01-by-the_duke_is_in/

Taking the front seat and angrily chewing from a box of popcorn.
Ride on Boss.

EmjayDeeBoss:
Taking the front seat and angrily chewing from a box of popcorn.

Ride on Boss.

make i folloq u chop small nah

emperorblog21:


make i folloq u chop small nah

Come and eat just make sure you come with a bottle of champagne.

EmjayDeeBoss:

Come and eat just make sure you come with a bottle of champagne.

nah bottle water i get

PART 2A


NAME * EMAIL * y The_Duke_Is_In© “It’s stuck. I have to call the super tomorrow,” I said unhelpfully. I remembered I was supposed to call Angela to let her know I made it home safe. Maybe I could crash with her until my lock was fixed.



I reached for my purse and slid the zipper open, the motion taking what seemed like eons. My phone wasn’t there. Bleep. I’d left my phone on the kitchen counter! Now I was really screwed. I got up, ignoring the tilting hallway. I managed to fix my eyes on my neighbor. Rex. That was his name. He frowned when he saw me looking at him. Stepping closer, he bent down to study me, his expression grim. “I think you might be having a… migraine,” he said. His voice was heaven. Rich and gravelly, the kind of voice that curled your toes. He put an arm beneath my shoulders to help steady me. “And a really bad one at that.” He moved to support me more fully, but I summoned up all my strength and gently pushed him away, finding balance on my own two feet. It took effort, but I didn’t want to be too close to him if I could help it— he made me nervous. “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut. I meant to call the superintendent. He lived in a sister complex a few blocks over, otherwise I would have gone to his door.


Rex studied me for a good two seconds as though weighing a decision. “My phone is inside.” He opened the door, then looked at me, hesitating. “I’ll be right out,” he said finally, and disappeared through his front door, leaving it ajar. The ache in my head was a slow, persistent burn. I had never had migraines like this before. I could taste something coppery on my tongue. I needed water, and I needed to lie down. The hallway was a blazing white purgatory at the moment. Why did it rain so much on this side of town?


“Here.” Rex was back, a small black cell phone in his hand. I took it and dialed the super’s number from a card in the pocket of my purse. Almost immediately the emergency tone sounded, three shades too loud. The towers were down. Thunder reverberated faintly through the building above the noise of the storm. I tried Angela’s, feeling stupid because it didn’t go any differently. “You’re welcome to come inside for a bit,” Rex said. There was a trace of wariness in his voice, as though he expected me to refuse. Well, I had rebuffed his earlier effort to help me stand. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t…I don’t think…” Words failed me. My shoulders slumped. He was doing what any good neighbor would do. I almost wanted to refuse, but then I would be stuck in the hallway all night, of which he was perfectly aware.




“Look, just come in for a bit, I can get you an Ibuprofen or something.” He picked up his laundry basket and pushed the door open further, the motion drawing my attention to the way his shirt stretched across his chest and shoulder. I realized I was staring and blinked. Rex was watching me with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Thank you,” I said sheepishly, ducking under his arm. My eyes reveled in the darkness, a stark contrast to the hallway. There was a lamp on in the living room, and it was this that provided the dim glow as I walked farther in. I could see a laptop sitting on the couch at an angle, and an empty bowl and glass on the coffee table in front of it. It looked like he had been working. Working on an article. My brain reminded me. You know, because he’s a journalist. Rex moved past me, his forearm gently brushing against my hip. I shivered, picking at the hem of my dress, damp with rain. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I watched as he moved about the kitchen, completely comfortable in darkness.


“Here.” Rex angled past me, taking my elbow in one hand to steer me toward the couch. He set the water and pills on the coffee table. When he released me, goosebumps prickled anew along the skin where his hand had been. He picked up his dishes and put them in the sink and then returned. He sat across from me and watched as I swallowed the tablets. I wondered how long he had lived in the U.S., and if he missed Sweden. The semi-darkness of the apartment eased the heaviness in my head. My eyes caught on the framed photographs gracing his walls. A curl of smoke from a smoldering campfire, backlit by a shell-pink and gray sunrise. A black sand beach with driftwood lumped in amorphous piles. “Those are beautiful pictures,” I said softly, moving my chin in the direction of the campfire.


Rex looked, his face in profile to me, showing me the angles of his nose and jawline lined with dark stubble. “I took that photograph in California. It had rained the night before, almost as bad as tonight.” The rumble of his voice loosened the tension in my shoulders and I leaned back into the plush couch to watch him. “Are these all of your photos, then?” I asked, looking around the room. I was surprised to find animal pictures as well, and a few portraits, too. “You’ve traveled a lot.” He gave me a polite smile. “I do freelance journalism and photography.”




“That must be an interesting job to have,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “It pays the bills.” He glanced at my dress. “Would you like to change into something dry?” He stood up, and I was reminded of how tall he was. Seeing the look on my face, he amended, “It’s ok if you’d rather not, but you might be here until morning and that dress doesn’t look comfortable to sleep in.” He went over to his basket of clean laundry and pulled out a gray shirt. “You can put this on if you want. I’ve got some sweatpants in here somewhere.”




Was it weird, putting on a stranger’s clothes? They were practically his pajamas. Or was it more weird insisting on staying in a wet dress all night? “Thanks,” I finally said. “It’s all right, I don’t mind. Don’t want you getting sick.” He handed the clothes to me. “I’m Rex, by the way,” he said, somewhat sheepishly, holding out a hand. “Cara.” His grip was warm and strong. Rex looked at his watch. “I have to pick up my laundry from downstairs. Will you be okay while I’m gone?” “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you,” I added whole-heartedly. I watched him leave before changing into the pajamas. In the silence, the throbbing in my head seemed to increase in intensity. I stretched out on the microsuede couch, my bare feet tucked under a pillow, and closed my eyes. My head was thick with sleep and a dull pain. I had been dreaming, but the images were blurry, hidden behind a thick gray fog that I couldn’t see through. I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know why.




There was movement nearby. I felt someone drape a warm blanket over my shoulders. I would have started awake, but a hand came up to brush my hair back from my face, and the touch was tender so that I stilled, burrowing further into the soft cushions of the couch, stretching out under the blanket. “Matt,” I mumbled unintelligibly. He was home late. I brought my hand up and encircled his wrist, pulling him toward me. I wanted to wrap myself around him. There was a growing pulse of warmth between my legs. I squirmed in pleasure, squeezing my thighs together. The hand stopped and gently extricated itself from my grip.



“Don’t go,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t sleep alone.” Through the heaviness in my head, I knew vaguely that something had happened between Matt and I, but not what. This migraine was worse than I thought. It was a migraine… right? Matt paused for a long time. In the dark, I felt for his hand and tugged. He slowly sat down next to me, letting me snuggle against him. It was a bit awkward, though, and I think he realized it too, because after what seemed like eons, he swung his legs up onto the cushions. My arms encircled his chest and I breathed in his scent, wrapping my legs around his. I nuzzled my nose against his chest, tucking my head into the crook of his arm.



The dream images were back, I could feel myself being pulled through the mists toward dark figures with no faces. Overwhelming sadness and anger filled me. Something had happened in my dream…someone I loved had hurt me. Matt. I could feel my throat catch on a sob. Tears sprang to the corners of my tightly shut eyes. He used to love me. We used to love each other. This brought another memory, one I much preferred. I clung to it, reveled in it, and pressed myself closer to the body next to me on the couch. Matt stiffened, and for a minute I thought he would push me away. I could feel my shoulders tense, and tears spring to the corners of my eyes. That’s right, I realized suddenly, a bit dazed, and definitely no longer confused. He doesn’t want you. He cheated on you.




But…I wasn’t in Matt’s house. This was Rex’s apartment. My heart skipped a beat. I was in Rex’s apartment, sleeping off a migraine on his couch…then that must mean this —I was suddenly very much aware of the body I was half lying on top of— was Rex. Oh God. I suddenly was very much aware of which parts of me were pressing against which parts of him.



I began to stiffen and pull away, horror, dismay, and shame etched into my face, but Rex tightened his grip infinitesimally and shushed into my hair. I felt his body relax, and I sensed he was trying to calm me. He worked his fingers into the muscles of my back, his other hand cupping my head, allowing me to listen to his heart beat. I let out a breath and slowly let my head fall back on his shoulder. In that moment, I didn’t care that we had just formally met a few hours prior. All I knew was that I was hurting, and he was giving me what comfort he could. So I took it, and fell asleep in his embrace.

SOURCE: www.emperorblog.com.ng/?s=the+magic+within

THE MAGIC WITHIN PART 2B
A ray of sunlight filtering through the blinds woke me up. I stretched, only to find myself unable to move. I was on someone’s couch, pressed into the cushions. And that someone was currently lying on the couch with me, still sleeping, his body curved around mine, trapping me. His head was above my own, and I could feel his breath on my hair with every exhale. One large hand had somehow found its way beneath my shirt during the night, and was splayed across my stomach, just brushing the underside of my breasts. It felt good to be touched, but wrong to accept it from a man I hardly knew. I pushed against Rex gently, trying not to notice how long his legs were, or how there was a growing bulge pressing against my ass. Rex growled into my hair and hugged himself closer to me. I let out a barely suppressed gasp when his hand moved upward to fully engulf my left breast, my nipple caught between his knuckles. A sharp wedge of pleasure arrowed down to my pussy as his hand gripped me, holding me essentially immobile, wedged as I was between him and the back of the couch. My breaths came in short and quick. My body felt hot everywhere. It had been a long time since I’d felt desire, and for a moment I let it wash over me. I sighed after a long moment, and slowly pushed back against Rex. “Um. Rex?” I said softly, turning my head and getting a mouthful of my own hair. The callused hand covering my breast squeezed ever so slightly, the motion causing his knuckles to pinch against the sensitive nub trapped between them. A shudder that traveled the length of my body. Oh God. I didn’t want him to stop. As though he could sense my growing arousal, Rex shifted to reposition his cock directly in line with my pussy. I could feel wetness pearling at my swollen entrance, probably beginning to soak, drop by drop, into my borrowed sweat pants. It took all my strength not to thrust myself backwards onto him. Snap out of it, Cara. You only just met him last night. He isn’t Matt. Loud, muffled banging sounded from the hallway. “Cara! Cara!” “Crap!” I hastily extricated myself from Rex, nearly tripping over my own feet as I hit the floor. I could hear Rex behind me letting up a muffled curse, but getting up. There, in the dimly-lit hallway with the one flickering wall sconce, illuminated only by the window at the far end of the hallway, was Angela, standing outside my apartment door. She turned, surprised to see me standing in baggy sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Her mouth was open, ready to shout my name again, but they died on her lips when she saw me, to be replaced by confusion. “What are you doing? You never called! Matt called me after you left last night, he was drunk off his ass and couldn’t reach you…” Her voice died out as Rex stepped out behind me. I could see her gaze travel up past me to rest on him. I blushed, unable to help myself. I had no doubt what she was thinking. “Matt?” Rex asked. I cringed. Fu-u- uck. I did not want my personal laundry to be aired out in the hallway. “Her ex-boyfriend,” Angela explained, blithely unaware of my glares. “He cheated on her two months ago and she moved across town to get over him.” “Angela!” I hissed. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I had a migraine and my key jammed.” I turned to Rex, who was watching me with some amusement. I could feel my face burning. “This is Rex, my neighbor. I crashed on his couch.” Angela’s lips thinned as she struggled to decide whether or not to believe me. “How convenient.” I wanted to strangle her. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She looked at Rex. “Thanks for letting Cara stay with you.” Rex chuckled. The sound pinged at something inside me. “It’s not a problem.” He took a step back from the doorway, angling his body. “I’ve got to get going in a bit. Would you two like some coffee while you wait for the super? I think it should be okay to call him at nine.” “That sounds amazing,” Angela said. She waggled her eyebrows at me when Rex’s back was turned. I gave her a glare. We followed Rex into his apartment. Angela’s sharp eyes took stock of his living space, taking in the couch and a cushion that had somehow gotten dislodged overnight, and lingering on the clothes I was wearing. “So, you’re a photographer?” Angela said abruptly, evidently remembering the in-depth conversation we’d had last night concerning Rex, somewhere between wedding planning and my zoning out. Rex tipped the ground beans into the coffee maker and set the cup on the counter. He looked at Angela with that familiar quirk of his lips. My body warmed as I remembered the feel of his hand resting on my bare stomach. “I see Cara has mentioned me to you.” His eyes flickered over to me briefly as he set coffee mugs on the counter. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from those hands, wondering what it would feel like to have them on other parts of me. Would they feel hot or calloused or cool? What would it feel like to have one of those fingers inside me? I flushed and looked away. “She may have mentioned something in passing,” Angela said. She surveyed the room again. “Are you on assignment currently?” It was then that I noticed the spare room crammed with boxes half-unpacked. “Actually yes, I am. I’ll be in the city for several months on a project for Intrepid USA. After that I’ve got plans to work on my photography book.” Angela’s phone tinkled at the same time the coffee maker beeped, signaling it was finished. Angela checked her phone. She made a face. “That’s it. I’m blocking him. He’s been pestering me all night and all this morning wanting to talk to you. I can’t imagine what your phone looks like, Cara. Thanks, Rex! It smells wonderful,” my best friend said, accepting a steaming mug from him. I scowled. “It’s been months.” I tried to put on a brave face but my stomach was in knots. The hurt was deep, and it continued to seep into my thoughts. We had talked about engagement rings. My fingers slid around the warm mug Rex set in front of me. I drank in silence, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Memories of Matt resurfaced, weaving in and out of a montage—of me, walking to our front door only to see another woman leaving, Matt playfully smacking her ass as she did so, laughing; the ensuing argument that lasted for hours, ending with me packing my essentials and crashing at Angela’s; long nights crying myself to sleep; my move across town, to this apartment complex. And then, for some reason—I thought about my night with Rex, how warm and safe I had felt in his arms. How I had ached for more. Confusion swept through me, that I should feel sexually attracted to another man so early after ending a three year-long relationship. I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed when Angela hugged me and told me she had a doctor’s appointment, and would give me a call later. “So,” Rex’s voice startled me from my thoughts. “How’s that head of yours feeling today?” “Better,” I said sheepishly, giving my mug a swirl. I rolled my shoulders and looked over at him. He seemed bothered by something, and I gave him a questioning look. “Listen, I’m sorry about this morning,” he began, running his mug under the tap. “It won’t happen again.” His voice was gruff now, and there was a frown on his face. “I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you,” he said more firmly, turning to face me. He ran a hand over his face, the trace of a five o’clock shadow on his jawline. My face grew hot, embarrassed. “You weren’t,” I assured him quickly, my voice a squeak. I wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure what. I paused, watching him set the mug on the drying rack. “I’m sorry for…for last night.” Those dark eyes fixated on me again, making my insides quiver. “For what?” Rex searched my face, his eyes pinched. I floundered. “For mistaking you for my ex. I—I was in a bad place.” I swallowed. There was a long silence as we stood opposite each other. I felt small, like a minnow in a trout pond. What had I been thinking, pulling him onto the couch next to me, this man that I hardly knew? “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” His words were short and clipped, clearly not wanting to be having this conversation. Rex padded into the living room and tidied up the coffee table. I wandered in after him after a moment’s hesitation, not really having anywhere to be, and vaguely wondering if I was intruding on him. He didn’t seem to mind, so I watched him clean, taking sips of coffee in between. “What’s this project you’re working on with Intrepid USA?” I asked, to fill in the silence. Rex’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt as he picked up some books to shelve. “I’m writing about Mount Rainier National Park—it’s history, allure and natural beauty.” He straightened. “I’m only here for a few weeks to interview some people and take some photographs.” That explained the sparseness of his apartment. “Maybe a month tops, if I really wanted to take my time about it. It’s a feature piece, otherwise they wouldn’t give me so much slack.” He laughed, looking at the framed photograph of the black sand beach, clearly thinking of something else. I smiled in response at seeing him unguarded. It was nice to see that side of him, since until last night, I had only seen him from a distance, both literally and figuratively. “Have you always wanted to be a photojournalist?” I asked, watching as he finished clearing off the coffee table. “Ever since I was a kid,” Rex acknowledged. “I’ve been freelancing for the past fourteen years.” He saw the look of shock on my face. “Did you think I was younger?” he asked, amused. I could feel my face heating up again. “Maybe a little.” That would put him in his mid-thirties. I hadn’t been with anyone more than five years my senior, and he was over…by a lot. Oh stop it, Cara, you haven’t “been” with him. Just maybe groped him a little. And been groped in return. Well, Bleep me if I wasn’t getting turned on again. “Do you have a home b

SOURCE: www.emperorblog.com.ng/?s=the+magic+within

base?” I asked, curious. I didn’t know anyone who was as transient as Rex. He shook his head. “Not really. Unless you count the house I grew up in.” He picked up a pillow that had gotten tossed to the floor and set it back on the couch. We were both silent, perhaps remembering what had happened on that particular piece of furniture.

D story is kinda boring. I think I'm out.