CHAPTER SEVEN
ERIS
An unusual subject
†
KYLE’S APARTMENT, ALTHOUGH TEMPORARY, was nothing like I imagined a bachelor pad would look like. No messy sports memorabilia, remote controls, dirty laundry and tacky art. This was most definitely far from what his riverside penthouse probably looked like – which was currently undergoing a major refurbishment - but the campus apartment was still quite modern with a few classic industrial accents here and there. He explained that Professor Merkel arranged he stay here in the interim.
The space was stylish contemporary and more spacious than I’d have thought. The kitchen had dark wooden floors, with white cabinets and matching granite countertops. The bookshelf in the lounge displayed an array of his personal photos as well as housing a few items clearly collected from his extensive travels, giving it a homely feel.
I turned to find him already busy with dinner, tearing the washed Romaine lettuce into bite-sized pieces before adding the Parmesan. He scrunched up one of the leaves before stuffing it into his mouth as he turned to reach into the top cupboard next to the fridge.
“Open this?” He handed me a small plastic bag of croutons without looking at me, busying himself with the salad again. I found myself slightly envious of the salad.
As if he heard my thoughts, he suddenly looked up, glaring at me with steel-blue eyes.
“You need to eat more. Get some meat on that skinny little body of yours,” his gaze burning over me, lingering on my hips.
Wiping his hands on the kitchen-towel, he flashed me a quick smile before tossing it back into the basin, then taking the croutons and emptying the contents into the salad bowl.
“Will you watch the shrimp, please? It’ll be done in a bit. I need to take a quick shower.” He started walking toward his bedroom.
He stopped in front of me, catching me off guard. I tilted my head back to look up at him, my lips parted slightly as I drew in a sharp breath. He brought his hand to rest at the nape of my neck as he leaned forward, just to plant a quick kiss on my forehead.
“Can’t have Alex’s little sister starve now, can we?” His face was only a few inches away from mine as he smiled down at me. Then he suddenly turned and walked away, leaving me breathless.
So he’s doing this for Alex – great. And did he really need to confirm it with a damn kiss on the forehead!
†
Kyle emerged from his bedroom, his chest bare… cotton tracksuit pants hanging loosely around his waist. Small droplets of water still glistened on his exposed chest. He was ripped; from his tight, chiseled bare chest to his washboard abs. His well-defined, muscular arms looked ridiculously sexy. His hair was still damp and disheveled. In one smooth movement, he pulled a grey T-shirt over his head, pushing his arms through the sleeves before he raked his fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face now showing a clear five-o’clock shadow.
Fuck me.
I tore my eyes away with difficulty, looking intently at the shrimp as I started to push it around in the skillet, nearly pulverizing a few of them with my eager stirring.
“All done?” he smiled questioningly.
Oh, you have no idea…
I nodded and flashed him a quick smile. He came up behind me, peeking over my shoulder to check on the shrimp. As he reached over to turn off the heat, his chest brushed against me, my body reacting immediately wanting to lean back against him. He smelled just a good as he looked, if that was even possible. I felt light-headed and quickly slipped back behind the counter, allowing him to step in and take over. I needed to put some distance between us to gather my thoughts.
“Chardonnay?” he asked, setting down a long-stemmed glass in front of me. I nodded, thankful for the offering. I needed something to calm my nerves. As soon as he handed me the glass, I brought it up to my lips, eagerly taking a large gulp.
“Your boyfriend knows you wander the streets alone at this time of night?”
My head jerked upward and I nearly spluttered, but quickly pressed my fingers to my mouth and swallowed.
“Well?” he persisted, one eyebrow lifted, seemingly unaware of my reaction to the question.
“No… no… I mean. I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said, my voice trailing off into a near whisper as I took another sip of the fruity liquid.
“Why not?” he asked, taking a sip himself.
Oh my God. Can we please not talk about this?
“I don’t have the time. I need to focus on my studies. And besides, I haven’t met anyone that I’m remotely interested in,” I said flatly, my irritation now obvious. “Can we please not talk about this?”
His eyes twinkled with mirth as he gazed down at me and a smile plucked at the corners of his mouth.
“Why does this make you so uneasy? You’re a sexy woman Eris and besides…”
He thinks I’m sexy?
“… it’s only natural that I’d concern myself… you being my best friend’s sister after all.”
Ugh! That again!
†
Over dinner, I asked him about his travels and some of the pieces displayed on his bookshelves. We settled into a comfortable chatter, talking about everything from the places that I’d still like to visit one day, to a silly a topic as what our all-time favorite ice-cream flavors were.
“So what were you working on so late tonight?” he enquired, spearing the last shrimp from his plate.
I shrugged, trying to disguise my unease. “Well… I’m struggling a bit with my final journalism paper. I need to present it as well and it’s not really going according to plan.”
He frowned slightly and took another sip of his wine. “Wait, I’m confused. You’ve always been a great writer, Eris. Why are you struggling?” he asked gently.
I shuffled in my seat, biting my bottom lip, my discomfort evident. I gave a nervous little laugh. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to make light of it. “So how’s the refurbishing going?” I asked enthusiastically, attempting to steer the conversation into another direction.
“It’s going great,” he said without emotion. “So back to my question… why are you struggling with your assignment? Talk to me.”
It was clear that he’d no intention of dropping it. I conceded.
I sighed as I leaned forward, perching both my elbows on the countertop, resting my chin on my interlaced fingers. “The problem is that this is not just another assignment. This is more of a last chance assignment.”
His brow twitched into a frown, but before he could ask the obvious question, I continued.
“You’re right Kyle. I know I’m a good writer… that’s not the problem. The problem is that I need to present my paper before the entire class to pass this course and I’ve already failed once,” I admitted, my embarrassment now apparent as I could feel the heat already touching my cheeks.
“I really find it difficult to speak in front of people. You could probably call it a bad case of stage fright and the larger part of me passing this course hinges on me presenting the paper. Then I also need to find a subject to actually write about. This is an autobiographical piece on someone that inspires me, that does something that is interesting and worthwhile writing about, but every idea I had so far just didn’t feel right. By some miracle, my professor gave me a second chance. I cannot mess this up!” I was breathless when I finished, feeling like a sinner confessing to a priest.
Kyle stood up and started to clear the dishes, motioning me to stay seated as he made a quick job of it. He had a pensive look on his face and I wondered whether he even heard a word I said.
He turned around, looking at me intently as he leaned forward, pressing both his palms on the countertop.
“Write about me. I’ll be your subject.”
I was taken aback.
“What?”
“You heard me. Use me.” As if my confused expression seemed to somewhat irritate him, he folded his arms in front of his chest. “Come on Eris. It’s not that complicated. I own a publishing company, have traveled the world, now co-writing a book and teaching. Writing is your passion, so this is a perfect fit. We can work on this together and I’ll help you with the presentation.”
He looked at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for the penny to drop.
And it did.
He was so right. He was the perfect subject.