Lydia
WHENEVER I MEET a new client, I’m always a tad nervous. First impressions are everything and you don’t get redo’s. That’s why presenting a professional front both in preparation and appearance is so important. Add in the fact that this new client requested me, and I’ve spent the whole drive squirming in my seat and nervously tapping on the steering wheel.
I looked into the area he lives in beforehand to get a feel for the neighborhood and draw inspiration from his surroundings, but the pictures online did not do it justice. Pulling through the wrought iron gate after I punch in the code, I’m guided into the community by a curvy road lined in tall trees. A pond sits off to my left as I make the first right onto his street. I continue down the street at a snail’s pace to give myself the opportunity to appreciate each home with its gorgeous architecture and stunning landscaping. These homes are pricey, and it’s easy to see why with their size, appeal, and close proximity to downtown Apex.
I pull up to the curb and double check the address to make sure I’m at the right one before parking and stepping out of my car. The front of the two-story house is done in light gray with white trim and a perfectly manicured lawn.
After I walk up to the porch and knock on the door, I run my hands down my favorite pencil skirt. I will the butterflies in my stomach to calm down, but they won’t listen. About a minute goes by with no answer, so I ring the doorbell figuring Mr. Riley didn’t hear me. It doesn’t take long before the door opens in a rush. At first I can’t see his face, but what I can see has my eyes widening and my mouth hanging open. On full display is his bare chest and ripped abs that are quickly covered as soon as he finishes pulling his shirt over his head. Seeing who it is before me, I take those butterflies from earlier and pluck their wings off and obliterate them.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to second guess them as I stare at the unapologetic grin of none other than Marcus.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Kelley. Please, come on in.” He steps aside to let me pass like this is no big deal, but I’m not going in.
“No, forget this. I’m out of here.” With one swift move, I spin around and make a beeline for my car, for a safe place.
“Lydia, wait!” I’m not fast enough and he catches up to me easily.
“You lied to get me here, Marcus. That’s low.” The disappointment I feel right now is shocking. I thought I’d be mad over everything, but to see that I wasn’t requested by a client for my talents stings a little.
“I didn’t lie,” he argues.
“Really? So I should start calling you Christopher?” My arms cross over my chest. I can’t believe I didn’t think anything of the last name when he emailed me.
“I was named after my father. Marcus is my middle name. I just left out the part where Christopher is the same ass that pulled you over not too long ago.” He shrugs innocently, but I know the truth. He’s the damn devil.
“Lie by omission is still a lie.” My lips purse together as the dull ache in my head builds.
“But would you have shown up if you knew it was me?”
I let out a sigh. He’s right. There’s no way I would have come here. Not because I don’t want to, but because I do. I’m not ready to get involved with a man, even on a casual level though. So what’s the point? “No, I wouldn’t have,” I finally admit, my face void of emotion.
His shoulders slump as if he expected me to argue with him. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I’m persistent. I want something, I go after it, and all I wanted was to get to know you better. I’m not asking for lifelong commitments or anything like that. All I asked for was one date.” I start to speak, but he holds up his hands. “But if you really want me to stop pushing, I will.”
Looking up into his hazel eyes, I see so much optimism and hope.
And I’m about to crush it.
He makes it damn near impossible to say the words that must be said. He hasn’t been wrong; I felt the connection between us that night too, but that’s all it is. All it can be. One night of drinks and dancing, nothing more.
“I want you to stop.”
His lips pull down in a frown as he nods several times, never breaking eye contact. “Okay. I’ll stop.” There’s such finality in his tone and I don’t like it. I’m a mess and don’t know what I want. “That still leaves me with one problem though?”
My brow furrows in confusion. “What?”
“I still need someone to fix my place.”
With my hands on my hips, my head tilts to the side. “I’m not falling for that. You said you’d stop.”
“And I will, but I moved in not too long ago and I’m sick of looking at the plain walls. I’m a guy. I don’t know shit about this stuff. Why don’t you come inside and look around just to see if you’re interested. I promise, there’s no hidden agenda.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.
I squint my eyes at him, trying to get a better read, but he seems sincere. “Okay,” I say cautiously.
“Cool, right this way.”
As soon as we walk in, my mind starts spinning with the possibilities. It has an open floor plan that could definitely use some tweaking to help define each individual space. All the walls are done in a boring, light beige color that makes me cringe on the inside. It’s like the standard paint color for all builders and it should be destroyed immediately. The furniture is nice, but doesn’t maximize the space. God, I could go crazy in here.
“It has a lot of potential. The bones are solid, it just needs a little finesse,” I tell him as I look up at the ceilings and inspect the lighting fixtures in the living room.
“So you’ll help me? Clearly I need your expertise.”
I want to do this job so bad. I could do amazing things here and it would definitely help my portfolio. But at what cost? With Marcus’s sweet eyes and smooth appeal, I know it would be so easy to let my guard down, and I’m not ready to go down a path that could lead to disaster. I’ve been hurt enough in recent years, so I avoid everything that has the potential to cause me more pain. That’s why I’ve been resisting Marcus.
As I run my hand along the chair molding in the dining room, I wonder if my resolve is strong enough to get the job done and leave. With one more look around the downstairs, it looks like I’m about to find out.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Great. What’s the next step then?”
Building an impenetrable wall that keeps you away from me.
“I brought some design samples for you to look at,” I say, pulling my binder out of my bag.
So it begins. Let’s hope this isn’t the second worst decision of my life.