Dindi Pt. 01

My mouth was hanging open, I was sure of it.

It was unnerving how clear blue his eyes were. He had absolutely wonderful eyes. I felt naked looking at them. He had those uncanny eyes that can make you feel like all of your secrets are written on your face, clear as day for him to see.

His smile was still there, directed at me. He looked dumb by the way he smiled at me, as if he'd just found some forgotten money in the pockets of his jeans. Slowly his blue eyes moved down to my lips.

The little hairs on my arms stood up at once. A shiver worked its way down my spine. I took a deep breath and felt my hard nipples straining under my bra. I ran my hands up and down my arms and forced myself out of whatever was happening to me.

"Were you trying to blind me?" I asked the man, not being very nice.

He shook his head slowly.

"No." He answered, still smiling.

I lifted my eyebrows and tilted my chin up looking at him and expecting him to explain what the hell he was doing, or who the fuck he was, or why was he smiling down at me that way. But he didn't say anything else, he just stood there with that smile and I looked away, afraid of the feeling creeping inside me.

Why do I like his smile so much?

I felt his smile like a physical weigh on me. It prickled my skin. I tilted my head back and glanced to the side with the corner of my eyes. Sure enough, he was still smiling.

Taking the courage, I turned my whole face to him and somehow his smile got wider, showing more of his symmetrical teeth. His eyes flickered with something...amazement maybe? Amazement by what? Me?

Don't be ridiculous, Morena!

"Are your cheeks hurting yet?" I asked him, not believing he could stand smiling so widely for much longer before his facial muscles exhausted.

He chuckled.

"No." He answered me monosyllabically again.

"Alright." I decided he was retarded and turned to the elevator waiting for the doors to finally open and give me a chance to run.

"You are exquisitely beautiful, you know that?"

I turned my neck his direction so fast I heard my neck vertebrae crack.

"Excuse me?" I wasn't sure I heard him right.

His full stupid grin morphed into a crooked smile.

"You're beautiful." He said, as if that were the most simple thing in the world.

I stared at him stupefied while he just smiled.

The elevator's doors were open, just waiting for me to get in so it could take me away from him. For some reason I had trouble deciding whether to stay or go.

Just go already! Go! Get in! What would you stay for?

"I have to go." I pointed to the elevator, making my decision.

He looked like bad news. What kind of idiot goes around smiling like that at women he doesn't know? A Don Juan maybe. It was smarter to run from him.

I stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button and waited for the doors that didn't seem to know I needed them to close fast. Not too subtly, I risked looking at him and he just...smiled.

We stood staring at each other. Me inside the elevator, him outside waiting for the doors to close. That was the end of my meeting with a strange, handsome weirdo. I felt a sting of some emotion I didn't want to name. Relief was supposed to be the feeling dominating me, but it wasn't.

Finally, the doors started to close. I fixed my eyes on his. That's it? He came running after me, taking my picture and smiling stupidly like that to just let me go now, without saying anything other than 'No' and 'You're beautiful'?

When the gap between the sliding doors was too slim for me to see him I sighed unhappily and looked down at my feet. I concentrated on the little hole in the hem of my dress. George was right. I should have worn something nicer.

There was a cringed mechanical noise and I looked up to see his hand forcing the doors open again. I watched as he stepped in beside me. I opened my mouth to ask 'What are you doing?' but promptly snapped it shut gain, afraid of his answer.

We stood quietly and I felt his warmth, emanating from him in waves that hit me.

Elevators have a thing about them. An awkwardness. You're standing there ultra self conscious. You know that the other person is thinking of you, and you're thinking of them.

Even without looking at him I knew he was looking at me and still smiling. I felt it.

I risked a quick glance his direction and sure enough, he was smiling down at me.

"You're truly very beautiful." He said when I lowered my head again.

Jesus. I could have been naked considering the way he was making me feel.

A rush of blood warmed my cheeks. That was the third time he'd said that. What was the matter with this person? I should be scared. Maybe he was a pervert or a sexual maniac. He was way too handsome a man. I doubted he had to try very hard to make women fall under his spell. I bet just those eyes did it. Nevermind the wheat golden hair, the ridiculous roman bone structure, and those lips...

"Thank you," was the only thing I could think to say -awkwardly- back to him.

The atmosphere was tense and awkward. Why was beyond me, but the sexual tension I felt made it hard to breath.

I heard him clear his throat.

"What's your name?" He asked.

The question stunned me. I was beginning to think his vocabulary was strictly narrow.

"Shouldn't you have asked me that before taking my photograph without my permission?" I said, glancing from his face to the camera hanging on his neck.

He laughed and I liked the sound too much. More than I should have.

"I'm sorry. I've told you I'm sorry. But really, it was your fault."

What?

He really was insane.

"Excuse me?" What the fuck did he mean by that? My fault?

He lifted a corner of his mouth.

"Well, you can't just walk around looking like that and not expect me to take a picture of you."

I opened my mouth, but my first instinct was to laugh, so I clamped it shut again, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead I let out a breath, faking annoyance, when really I was beginning to feel too flattered for my own good.

He shifted on his feet and I could feel he was preparing to say something so I decided to put an end to the whole thing, I didn't like the way he was making me feel. Too warm and giddy inside.

"Look, Mr-"

"Travis." He cut me off, offering what I supposed was his name. "Travis Keegan."

He extended his open hand to me.

There it was, an excuse for me to touch him. I was afraid to, though. What if it felt the I way I feared it did? What if I liked the way it would feel?

I took his hand. I half expect to be electrocuted, the way people say it happens to them in movies or melodramatic romantic novels. Instead I felt heat that went up my arm and pooled in between my legs, slick and moist.

He drew circles on the skin on the back of my hand with his thumb. I shivered lightly. Those blue eyes of his stared into mine with way more intensity than I knew how to handle.

The elevator doors opened with a 'ping' noise and saved me from throwing myself into his arms. I just needed to get away from this man.

I tried to pull my hand from his grasp, but he didn't let me go and just tightened his hold on it. His other hand came on top of mine.

"Tell me your name." He whispered, and I shivered again. His hooded blue eyes seemed to shine even more.

My name was on the tip of my tongue, ready to be offered to him, but I didn't say it.

No.

It was too dangerous to give him my name. He'd have too much of me if he knew my name. He already had my picture, and I was sure he'd have a good amount of my thoughts from now on. My name was too much to ask. Too much for me to give.

Once again, the elevator doors started to slide towards each other, and doing the opposite, I slip my hand from his and rushed out, sliding away from him, almost running towards the building exit.

I didn't look back. I didn't dare to. I just walk away, breaking into a run down the stairs.

I stopped in the sidewalk and bent down with my hands on my knees, breathing hard. My lungs were strong. I was a keen runner, so I knew that little running session wasn't the reason for my shortness of breath. No. It was how affected I was by the way I had affected him.

What the fuck had just happened?

Travis Keegan. The smiling man.

I jumped inside the first taxi I stopped and sagged in the car's leather seat. When I closed my eyes, his eyes were what I saw. Blue like the ocean, leaving me wet and moldable like the waves did to the sand.

***

TRAVIS

I woke up with the noon light hitting my face like a slap.

Wake up, you fucker.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched lazily on my bed. My hand landed on a something hard and round, like a head. Lifting my sheets I found a naked blond sleeping beside me.

Oh, right. Last night.

NYFW was always hell. I worked like a dog, then went to some party and came back home with a leggy model. It was the same ritual every year. Work, party, drink, sex. But then in the morning came the hangover. And the guilt.

Careful not to wake the woman up, I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror was hard to look at. I looked like shit. Purple heavy smudges stained the pale skin under my eyes. My skin was actually paler today than usual. I could see the blue little veins under it. Scratching my beard I opened the cabinet. Inside I found some ibuprofen and swallowed two pills dryly, with no water. The pills stuck in my throat and I coughed hard, forcing them down. A cold shower was probably all I needed to feel better.

I turned on the shower and I let the cold water cascade over my face and hoped that it could wash away all of me. I knew water wouldn't clean me, however.

Thirty minutes later, I was physically clean and walking towards the lump under my sheets.

"Hey, sweetheart." I shook her shoulder lightly. She didn't move.

I tried again, this time not so gently.

"Hey! Wake up, darling."

This time she moved and moaned, but then fell quiet again.

I ran a hand over my face summoning some patience. Today wasn't a day I had time to be a gentleman.

Usually I made them breakfast, talked some, told them they were beautiful and that the sex had been great, and hoped they had nice lives. But today I had a shit ton of work to do, and the only reason this girl was here this morning was because last night I had been too drunk and lonely to turn her down when she, literally, threw her panties at my face. Deep down they hoped sleeping with me would somehow catapult their careers. What they didn't know was that Travis Keegan The Famous Fashion Photographer was actually Travis Keegan The Greatest Shit That's Ever Lived.

"Hey...uh...You...uh..." I didn't remember her name. Fuck, maybe I didn't even know it.

The girl was asleep like the dead. It was past 1 p.m. already. I had to go or else I'd be late. Depleted of time or patience I pulled the sheets off the bed and revealed miles of legs and skin. She finally woke up.

"Hmm, it is morning?" She had a foreign accent, I didn't even remember that. Her voice was heavy with forced sexiness.

"It's 1 p.m." I said gravelly. "Look, I'm have this thing I'm late for. Can you get dressed?"

In the back of my mind I knew I was being an asshole, but I just wanted to get rid of her.

She pulled herself up to her knees and moved towards the edge of the bed, where I was standing. Tentatively, she wrapped her longs arms around my neck.

"Maybe I don't go so soon." Her breath reeked of stale alcohol and I winced.

Her face fell and I suddenly felt like the great shit I was. I forced my lips into a smile that I hoped looked genuine enough. Last night I needed her to fill a void. Now I needed her to be gone.

"Get dressed and I'll buy you some coffee by the corner cafe." I said in a failed attempt to make amends for my asshole behaviour.

The girl slid her arms from my neck and snaked them around herself covering her breasts in a defensive move. I hated when they did that. It made me feel like a bastard and them like victims when they knew well enough what they were in for when they accepted to come home with me.

Women come to me like flies. They say they like me because I'm complicated. Most of them seem to think they can fix me if they just try hard enough. The thing is, I'm fucked up and I don't want any fixing. I just want to fuck them and forget I exist while I'm inside them.

Fifteen minutes later I was already walking to the subway by myself. She didn't even accepted the coffee. She left as if she couldn't run from me fast enough. Who could blame her?

I was supposed to meet my brother, Max, for lunch an hour ago. When I turned the corner in the street of the restaurant I saw him walking out of it.

"Max!" I yelled after him, already running towards him. "Hey! Max!"

He stopped and turned. Even from afar I could see the disappointment in his face.

"Hey, Maxie." I said breathlessly when I reached him.

Max sighed and ran a hand over his perfectly arranged blond hair.

"Travis." He greeted me not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"I'm sorry, man. I woke up and there was this girl. I came as-"

Max held up a hand and I stopped talking.

"There's no need to explain yourself, Travis. I already know how it goes." He turned his back to me and then turned back again, chuckling. "Look, I love you, bro. But I just can't do this anymore. When you've grown up you should call mom. She misses you."

And with that he walked away from me. I just stood there. I had nothing to say. What could I say? It was all my fault. Always my fault.

***

My gig was over. I was hired to do the photographing of the collection of this big shot designer and since that was done I was ready to go home before someone could invite me to some party I would regret going to.

I sat on some dark corner near the makeup area to gather my gear and leave when I heard her. I heard her laugh. It was a heartfelt, genuine laugh among all that meaningless noise.

My eyes began searching for her.

Laugh again. I thought. Laugh so I can find you.

And she did.

The moment I heard her laughter I spotted her, by the far corner of the makeup stands, talking to George.

The air got stuck inside my lungs. She was many feet away from me, but I was afraid to breathe too loudly so that she'd hear me and see I was no good and run.

She was so beautiful the word wasn't enough to describe her. She was beautiful in the classical meaning of the word. Not languid and sexy like most of the girls around us, but soft and natural. There was this intrinsic elegance that clung to her like moisture to a cup of ice water.

She was beautiful just being herself. I have never seen a woman look so real. She was sitting there with her back pressed to the mirror wall, her legs crossed and her hair a glorious mane of soft curls framing her heart-shaped face, stopping a few inches below her shoulders.

I was too far. I needed to get closer to her.

Taking my Nikon I got up to my feet and crossed the room to Stella's makeup station, three stations away from George's, away from her.

How come I've never seen her before?

"Travis." Stella greeted me.

"Stella." I greeted her back. "Can I hang here for a minute?" I asked her, not looking at her, but already positioning myself where I could have a perfect view of her through my lens.

I used the zoom of my camera to focus her face and see her better.

Jesus, she was just fucking gorgeous.

At first, I zoomed in her lips. Plump and perfectly symmetrical. Her nose was small and the tip pointed upwards, giving her a self assured air. But her eyes were the best part. Slightly slanted, their color was unbelievable. Hazelnut, mostly light brown with hints of green, surrounded by lashes so long they looked fake. The contrast between her light eyes and dark skin was mesmerizing.

She was listening attentively to something george was saying to her. She furrowed her brows. Whatever it was he said, she didn't seem to like it.

"Travis."

With an automatic motion I turned my head at the sound of my name, but my eyes were still on her over my camera.

"Travis!"

I was forced to look when Stella called me a second time.

"Yes!" I snapped at her, and realized I had sounded rude. "Sorry." I added lamely, but was secretly bothered she had forced me to look away from her.

Stella didn't seem to mind my tone or my apology. She glanced to her left and then knowingly back at me.

"She's George's sister. She just moved here." She said, obviously understanding my interest. I sure wasn't hiding it.

George's sister?

Now I knew something about her.

They didn't look anything alike. She was black, he was ginger. Maybe she was adopted? Or maybe it was one of those crazy genetic mysteries. Both their eyes were hazelnut, though his had more green than hers.

Dismissing my theories about her heritage I turned to look at her again, but to my despair, she was no longer there. I panicked. I put my camera down and started looking around.

I searched for about thirty seconds before deciding I had no time to waste. So I went to the most trustworthy source of her whereabouts.

"Oh, hello, handsome! What-" George began.

"Where is she, George?" I blurted out, cutting him off.

He shrugged, looking confused.

"That woman. The one who was sitting right here a second ago!" I explained, pointing to where she'd been sitting against the mirror. There was a smudge there, where her skin had touched. "Where is she?"

"Mo?!" George asked, still at a loss.

Mo? What was that? Her name?

"Yes. Mo! Where is she?!" I asked again with urgency.

God, just fucking tell me already.

"She just left-"

I was running to the elevator's hallway, to where he had pointed, before George had even finished his sentence.

Right enough, there she was. Standing with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot on the floor, impatiently waiting for the elevator. She was wearing some t-shirt long enough to cover half her thighs. It was some dusty rose color, it matched her skin with perfection.

My Nikon was in front of my face and I was focusing my lens on her, yelling for her attention almost unaware of myself. It was something I had learned with my profession; whenever I saw beauty I photographed it. And she was beauty itself.

"Hey!" I called.

She was maybe ten feet away from me, and she turned, giving me a perfect view of her face. I clicked a button and the camera flashed.

"What the bloody-"

I heard her start to speak, but the second click and flashing of my camera made her turn her back to me.

I wanted a third picture, a fourth, as many as I could take. Unable to resist, I took another one, of her back.

By the movements of her arms I could see she was rubbing her eyes. I had momentarily blinded her with my flash.

What the fuck are you doing, man?

As stupid as I knew it was, I walked towards her. The scent of vanilla instantly engulfed me. Temptation crept up my spine and twirled around my fingers urging them to bury themselves in her hair. My hand was in the air, an inch away from touching her soft curls but I refrained myself and instead I apologized.

"I'm so sorry." I said.

Immediately, she turned around and stepped back with her eyes still closed. She opened them, and an expression of panic loomed over her face, before she shut them again.

"God, I'm really sorry. I couldn't resist it." I apologized again, needing desperately for her to know it wasn't my fault. It was hers. I just couldn't help myself.

Again, she rubbed her eyes and her eyelids flew open. Up close the beauty of her eyes was even more striking. She blinked those impossibly long lashes. The skin of my cheeks tensed with the wide grin that split my face in half. Slowly, her eyes went up from my chest to my neck, and then to my face. She stopped, eyes fixed on my stupid smile.