Chapter 2 You Look Awful- Leora

Twenty years have come and gone since I first made my home in a city called Atlanta in the Human Realm, and it has become more than just my home, it's my sanctuary. This city, with its vibrant music scene, warm-hearted people, and mouth-watering food, has shaped me. In more ways than one. I got the ass to prove it.

  Everything here is diverse and busy, just the way I like it. I left the tranquility of the farm when I was twenty, eager to carve out a piece of the world that was mine alone. I found this snug loft apartment and have made it my haven ever since. The wooden floors creak with history, and the old brick walls seem to whisper stories of the past. There's a cozy sitting area where I often curl up with a book and a corner that I've dedicated as my office. I don't need much, I'm a creature of simple habits, and I don't entertain visitors. Now and then, Lucinda or Lane might swing by if they're in the neighborhood, but these visits are rare.

  After getting back into town today, I discovered a flood of voicemails on my phone, all pinging in from the same number. Becca, most certainly. I wasn't in the mood to call her back just yet. I craved the solitude of a shower. Just as I tossed my phone aside, a sudden, unexpected knock at my door made me jump. I cautiously glanced through the peephole and was both surprised and amused to see Oberion, my neighbor and relentless gym trainer, idling in the hallway.

   I swung open the door, and he didn't miss a beat. "You look awful," he erupted with that giant, mischievous grin.

   I rolled my eyes.  "Try working on that farm all morning and see how you look. Maybe next time, I'll bring you along." I had narrowed my eyes on his waiting for a smug refusal.

              "That’s a good idea," he chuckled, surprising me. "A day on the farm could be fun!" He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sparking with a playful light.

   "Is that right?" I smirked, crossing my arms. "And when would you find the time? Between nonstop training and those endless dates you're always on?"

   He shrugged, feigning innocence. "I might be able to squeeze you in," he teased. "Farm chores could be my new favorite exercise."

   "Now that I'd love to see," I said with a laugh, starting to enjoy where this was going. "Maybe you'll finally understand why I'm so tired by the time I make it to the gym."

   "And maybe you'll see why I'm such a hard ass in our sessions," he quipped.

  Oberion talks a big game, but he's not fooling anyone. He's too much of a city guy to even think about stepping onto that farm, and his sleek style would never allow for dusty designer shoes.

  For several years now, Oberion has been more than just a passing presence in my life. He has been my friend. The friendship began at the gym. I was new to working out in a gym. The outdoors had been my fitness arena. I had no idea how to use the crazy bunch of machines and equipment. He was my savior. He came to my rescue many times when those weight machines tried to kill me.  We had such nice and easy conversations. Nothing seemed forced. Then he talked me into a training program. He pushed beyond what I ever thought possible, challenging me every damn day, and never accepting any excuses. He’s definitely a hard ass! A few months after we met, he moved into my building. Now we are neighbors. He is just right down the hall.

  Oberion's stare was unwavering. There was an undeniable firmness to his expression, a strong, angular quality to his face that lent itself to his iron will, and a jaw set with the tenacity of an unyielding mountain. My chest began to warm. My grin was mirrored back at me, a reflection in the gleam of his unrelenting gaze. I observed him watch me, so intent on the curve of my lips, that I nearly missed the glimmer in his eyes. It was then that he finally shifted his focus, his eyes glancing away from my mouth and up to meet my own.

  “I heard you come in,” he said, disrupting the tension with a sudden lightness, “so I brought you dinner.” His gaze was different now, no longer the laser-pointed stare, but something more open. A warmth. The moment my mind shifted from the distraction of his stare to his unexpected words, I couldn't ignore how the mention of food made an almost immediate impact on me.

  The aroma of spices and cooked meat rose from the plate, filling the hallway with a tantalizing scent that made my stomach grumble with hunger.

  A few bites this morning had held me over through most of the day, but by now my stomach was furious from being empty. It let out a ferocious growl that could be heard across the room, demanding satisfaction, eager for attention. Oberion laughed at my pained expression, while I just rolled my eyes and clutched my belly.

  The mere hint of whatever dish he was holding was enough to send my taste buds into a frenzy. I could almost feel the heat radiating from the plate, igniting my senses, making my mouth water with anticipation.

  “I can hear your stomach growl,” Oberion said, his cheeks rising with mirth. The broad, muscled expanse of his chest shook with laughter, making him seem even taller. His eyes danced and crinkled at the corners, enjoying my predicament as I felt my face burn from a mix of hunger and embarrassment. A dimple deepened on his dark brown cheek, adding a boyish charm to his already handsome features. He held the plate just out of reach, teasing me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

  I made a little mock lunge for it, and he grinned even wider. Then, mercifully, Oberion handed me the plate and the steam began wafting invitingly towards me, wrapping me in its savory embrace. "Thank you," I said, already focused on inhaling the meal. "I'm starving."

  He watched me, half-amused and half-concerned. "You need to eat more than just breakfast." It was as much a scold as it was a joke.

  "Why bother with lunch when this is waiting for me?" I managed to say with a spiteful grin and quickly blinking eyelashes.

             "Will I see you at the gym in the morning?” He questioned.

  "Yes," I responded, stretching out the word and rolling my eyes. "I swear, you and Lucinda will be the death of me."

  He grinned again. "Seems like we both just want you to be at your best." A low grumble came from him.

  A shudder ran down my back. I started to feel nervous.  "Well”, I drew the word out and paused for a moment. “Thanks for the meal. I need to shower before this place starts to reek."

  "I can help with that too, if you'd like." His grin was mischievous.

  His suggestion was daring; it almost left me speechless. Normally, I could count on him to be a bit brazen and playful, but this time there was a boldness in his words that made me falter. My breath caught, and I could feel the tips of my ears burning hot. Oberion was always a flirt, but there was something unguarded about him in this moment, something I had never seen before, and it made my pulse race. A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up inside me, part disbelief and part genuine amusement.

  I tried to muster a witty comeback, but my tongue betrayed me, leaving me vulnerable and without my usual defenses. My cheeks flushed crimson, and I knew I was caught. I was suddenly aware of my cell phone ringing.

  "Maybe another time," I eventually replied, my voice wavering more than I'd hoped. I tried to act nonchalant, but his playful eyes betrayed that he wasn't fooled. His laughter was light and carefree, a melody that filled the air and made me smile despite myself, the tension fading away in the warmth of his amusement.

   "See you tomorrow morning, don't let me down. I really enjoy watching you sweat," he said, casting me a final look before turning and heading to his apartment.

  The hallway seemed to stretch on forever as I stood there, watching him cross to his door.

  "Ancients help me," I murmured to myself. Regaining my composure, I placed the plate on the small wooden table and went to take a much-needed shower.

   After finishing my shower, I slipped into a pair of cozy black leggings and an oversized t-shirt. I eagerly devoured the meal Oberion had prepared. It was incredible. It wasn’t my normal meal. I was very much a piece of cheese and chunk of bread kind of girl. That’s probably why these thighs won’t shrink. I cleaned up and washed the plates. I will return them tomorrow. Right now, it was a little too risky. I was still a little worked up from our conversation earlier. And I haven’t felt the hands of a male on me in a while. Not that the last encounter with a Human male was anything to brag about. 

   By now, I was desperate for a nap, but I knew the moment I shut my eyes, that annoying phone would start ringing. So, I opted to brew an extra strong cup of coffee and headed over to my desk instead.

   This was undoubtedly my favorite part of the apartment. The warm wooden floors shone brightly under the copper lights. I had painted the walls in a shade of green reminiscent of the grassy fields at the farm. My exquisite dark wooden desk featured custom-made cut glass knobs that glittered. Lane and I had found it at an adorable antique shop.  The chair was a rich brown color, the leather smooth and well-worn from years of use. It was large and welcoming, with soft edges and a luxurious feel.

              The room filled with the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, intermingled with hints of wood, leather, and the lingering scent of Oberion's delicious cooking. I took a deep breath in to savor it all.

   As I take a sip of the strong coffee, the bitter yet satisfying taste fills my mouth and awakens my senses.

   The sound of my chair creaking slightly as I settle into it, the clinking of the cup against the saucer as I take a drink, and the soft hum of the computer as I start typing has me at ease as I begin to work. 

            Journal upon journal of information sprawled across the surface of my desk like a chaotic sea of knowledge. Each one was filled with notes, meticulously scribbled to ensure every piece of my writing was as precise and accurate as possible. The bookshelves that lined the walls were crammed to capacity. Leather-bound novels, their covers rich and textured, stood alongside thick volumes of historical documents, their pages yellowed with age. Endless tomes of geography were nestled in between, their spines a mosaic of colors and fonts, whispering stories of the world's vast and varied past.

 With increasing velocity, I typed through the pages of the novel, my hands dancing over the keyboard with an almost supernatural speed. Composing it had been astonishingly straightforward, as if the words materialized unbidden from my mind. Maybe the task was so fluid because I wrote of what I understood most intimately: the secretive world of the Fae. I embellished it generously, scattering bits of knowledge about other mythical creatures throughout the narrative and allowing them to intertwine with the main thread, creating an intricate tapestry. At times, I found myself utterly immersed in a single tale, expanding it with elaborate details that rendered it far more thrilling and captivating than it had been in reality.

              By the time I had completed my work, the sun's golden rays were streaming through the intricate stained glass window near my desk. The vibrant colors of the glass, deep blues, rich reds, and vivid greens, danced and shimmered across the room, casting a breathtaking rainbow of light on every surface. The walls were awash with a kaleidoscope of hues, creating an atmosphere that felt almost magical.  

    I completed my tasks much earlier than I had anticipated. With a sense of triumph, I swiftly sent the freshly polished chapters off to Becca. I could almost picture her face lighting up with satisfaction as she read through the new material, confident that she would be happy with my work.

   A gentle breeze drifted into the room, prompting me to look around for its source. I couldn't recall leaving a window open, but as I scanned the room, I noticed the window behind the couch was slightly ajar.

   I walked towards it to close it, but before I could I one leaf floated into the room. The leaf was a rich shade of brown, its edges curling slightly from age. Upon closer inspection, I could see faint lines etched into its surface, forming two words in elegant script: "Come home!"

“Well fuck!”