The Magic Within Ch. 01

"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. Fuck. 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.

***

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, fuck me if I wasn't getting turned on again.

"Do you have a home 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.