EVECATES-ROMANCE

A nervousness flitted about in my stomach as I reached my hand out to open the door. The moment it swung open, my eyes went wide and my breath caught in my chest. This wasn’t the bathroom. It was André’s room. And wow. It was obvious he was a photographer.

Where the rest of the apartment was bare, André’s room was covered with pictures – all the walls, from ceiling to floor. Black and whites with bursts of color, different print sizes, but each and every one of them was…beautiful.

I was drawn in, my eyes hungry to see all the places this man I’d never met and didn’t know had been. It was as if I was getting to know him by what he chose to put on his wall. And from what I saw, his mind was a kaleidoscope of beauty and sorrow. I felt a darkness in him – a loneliness that rang loudly in the hollowness of my own. They spoke to me. They told me stories. And I took my time, listening to every one, drinking the beautiful melancholy into my soul.

Some photos were like Dave’s and showed friends and good times, but most of them were artistic shots of landscapes, animals, people in war torn countries, dilapidated buildings, homeless people…

I didn’t know how long I spent looking at them. I just knew that the emotion of them all was sweeping over me, pricking at my eyes and running down my cheeks. My hand covered my mouth as I saw a sickly child clinging to an old dog, his big brown eyes looking into the camera lens showing no expression at all. It hurt my heart to see that boy, trapped in the existence that was forced upon him. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Looking at all the photos somehow made me feel connected to the people in them and the man who took them. I began to think that he must have an incredibly sensitive soul to be able to capture so much emotion in a single frame. I was in absolute awe.

I couldn’t wait to meet him…

An accented voice broke through my quiet wonder. “Who are you? What are you doing?” he demanded.

I whipped my head around quickly, practically jumping out of my skin with the surprise of someone else in the apartment. The guy from the photos – the guy who took these photos – André, stood in the doorway to his room, and he didn’t look very happy to find me in his personal space.

I froze and stood there staring at him, unable to move or speak.

I was stuck.

Breathe…

André was tall, like absurdly tall. And built – he filled the entire doorframe. His green eyes seemed to glow somehow, set against the deep tan of his skin and his messy golden brown hair. He had possibly a week’s worth of facial hair that looked obscenely enticing to my fingertips as it softly coated his strong jaw. The photos of him didn’t do him justice. He was probably the most stunning man I’d ever seen in real life. Even though he looked incredibly angry, he was still gorgeous. My mouth hung open. I couldn’t even speak to explain who I was.

Breathe…

His eye narrowed. He was waiting for me to explain. I began to stammer, still unable to find my words.

Shaking.

“I…I…um…I.”

Before I knew what was happening, his strong hand closed around my upper arm, and I was being dragged through the apartment toward the front door.

“Go and squat somewhere else,” he growled as he opened the door and flung me into the hallway, slamming the door after me. I was so shocked that I stood there for moment, my mouth open, my eyes blinking, before I came to my senses and began to bang on the door.

“Wait! Let me back in, my stuff is in there!”

He opened the door again and threw my bag on the ground next to me, a stormy look on his face as he muttered something under his breath in a language I didn’t understand but thought it sounded a lot like German.

“Wait!” I yelled again, slapping my hand against the door to stop him from closing it. “I’m Dave’s sister. He told me to come here.”

He paused for a moment, eyeing me suspiciously. “Dave doesn’t have a sister. He has a brother.”

“No. He has a sister – Willa – Will for short.”

In response, he slammed and locked the door, leaving me in the hallway, essentially homeless.

What an asshole!

I gave the door a swift kick and told him as much. “Asshole!” I kicked it again, wishing I still had the key with me. “Wait until I tell Dave you kicked his little sister out onto the street – he’ll beat your sorry ass!” I didn’t know what came over me. Normally, I would never yell a threat at some guy I’d only just met – I’d never normally threaten anyone at all – but I had nowhere else to go. I needed to get back in there.

The door swung open again, revealing him standing in front of me with a cellphone pressed to his ear. He gave me a look that suggested he didn’t think my brother could beat him up if he tried, and he probably couldn’t – André had a good head of height, and at least an extra twenty pounds of muscle on my brother.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he held his finger up to silence me, so I folded my arms and looked at him with my best aggravated expression plastered across my face.

Why were the hottest guys always the biggest jerks? And why did I always find myself so damn attracted to them? It was probably because I knew they wouldn’t stick around. Life was less complicated when relationships were fleeting.

My eyes strayed from his eyes and began to drift over the toned lines of his muscular body. I literally had to force myself to keep my eyes from gluing to the hard curve of his bicep as he held the phone to his ear.

Eyes. Focus on the eyes.

“We got evacuated,” he stated, obviously talking to the person on the other end of the phone call. He kept his eyes on mine, but lowered his hand to his hip as he stood there looking annoyed, and obscenely sexy – even though his expression was hard as his jaw ticked.

He listened for a moment, made a couple of non-committal sounds then handed the phone to me.

“Dave,” he informed me as I took it with a shaking hand. I’d never felt as though someone hated me so much at first sight before. His expression was positively stormy and there was something about the energy coming off him. It made me feel tiny even though I was five nine and not that tiny at all.

“He-Hello,” I said in a small voice as I pressed the phone to my ear.

My brother sighed down the line. “He found you in his room? Jesus, Will, he doesn’t let anyone in there.”

“Well, I didn’t know that! Besides, I wasn’t snooping – I was looking for your linen cupboard.”

“It’s in the bathroom.”

“That’s what I thought, but all the doors look the damn same. I got the wrong one…”

“Jesus,” he said again, sounding exasperated. “Listen, he’s pissed. You should’ve just shut the damn door and moved on.”

“How was I supposed to pack it up if I wasn’t allowed in there, then? You asked me to come here, Dave, and now your German roommate hates me.” I said, turning away from André and speaking in an almost whisper. André was standing in the doorway still listening in on the conversation. I glanced back at him for a moment. “Did you at least explain to him why I’m here?” I looked André in the eye to see his reaction, and I swear I saw his eyes soften a little, although I couldn’t really tell, he looked past me down the hallway when the elevator opened and let a girl with bottle blonde hair off. She looked a little familiar as she lifted her hand and waved. He nodded once. I watched the exchange and could immediately tell there’d been something between them – she wanted more – he didn’t want anything at all. I was good at reading people. I was good at being the one who nodded politely. I never wanted anything either.

My brother’s flustered sigh pulled me back to the reason I was standing in the hall. “Listen, I’m sorry he freaked out when he saw you. I should have left a message for him, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I fucked up.” I heard him cover the phone and say something to someone else. “Hey, I have to go. They’re calling us to board the plane. Just…put me back on to André. I’ll explain what’s going on.”

I handed André back his cell and said, “He wants to talk to you.”

André’s green eyes landed on mine again as he listened and made a few noises before saying a simple, “You have my word.” Then he disconnected the call and stepped back from the door, jerking his head to the side to indicate I could go inside.

Giving him a small smile, I picked up my bag and went inside. “About before. I was looking for the bathroom and your photos – they’re beautiful, I mean, really, stunningly beautiful.”

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to the side slightly as if assessing me like an animal would.

I went on, “Perhaps we can start over? I’m Willa, Dave’s sister.” I held my hand out to him, expecting him to be civil and take it.

All he did was flick his gaze to my offered hand then return it to my eyes, unmoving. “I’ll pack my stuff. You pack Dave’s. I’ll find somewhere else to live once we get to LA.” He turned and picked up his own bags before pausing. “Just stay the fuck out of my room.” Then he walked through his door and slammed it shut behind him, causing me to jump for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath, hating that I found someone so rude so beautiful, while also hating that his art had tricked me into thinking he might be also be beautiful in his soul. So far, his soul seemed quite ugly to me, and nothing like mine at all. I’d read him wrong. It was unsettling.  

Holding back emotions of self-pity, I went into the bathroom and got some clean sheets then flopped on top of Dave’s bed before putting my headphones on and turning up the music so I could pretend I was anywhere but here. If today was any indicator, the next few days were going to be very uncomfortable. I couldn’t wait to get home.