Page 57 of Knot Just for Show
Ronan chokes on his mouthful of lunch—coughing loudly as he tries to catch his breath.
“Oh shit dude, I didn’t mean to like—be a jerk or anything.” Teddy has the sense to feel badly, his eyes trained on his empty glass of protein shake.
There’s a long silence before anyone speaks again. I’m relieved when Lysander finally lifts the quiet with his low, steady voice.
“Since we might end up being pack anyway.” He shifts in his seat—his eyes darting around the room, falling everywhere but on each of our faces; myself, Ash, Teddy, and Ronan. “Might as well just spill the fucking beans,” he sighs, preparing to bare his soul.
After lunch and Lysander’s confession, I’m newly unmoored.
When Ursula had mentioned her lack of heat experience, it had been intriguing and somewhat exciting.
Seeing Ronan had been surprising, and more thrilling than I had anticipated—but I hadn’t done much examination of my ‘feelings’ about it.
Sitting across the table as Lysander poured out his soul—admitting that after a life of near asexuality paired with crippling hopeless romanticism he now found himself experiencing sexual attraction in all sorts of places he had never before considered possible.
Though he didn’t name any names beyond the obvious Ursula—I got the impression that he’s been developing feelings for other members of the pack. The stolen glances that passedbetween him and Ronan—laced with surprising heat; were also not lost on me.
I’m both startled and perplexed at the sudden swell of jealousy within me, as I drag myself out to the pool area and drape myself over one of the nearly flattened pool loungers; the sun beating down—bright and broiling hot.
I pull the emerald thread of envy—doing my best to follow it, like Ariadne through the labyrinth—toward the heart of its tangled skein.
No matter how I try to approach it—I keep coming back to the same, somewhat baffling, conclusion.
I am envious of whatever has been secretly blossoming between Ronan and Lysander—in part because I had begun to explore some kind of strange, wonderful something between Ronan and myself before I allowed my work-a-holic nature, and my own preconceptions of what it means to bea manget in my way. While a difficult truth to begin to wrap my brain around—I’m even more baffled by the fact that I’m even more jealous that this kind of organic connection between Lysander and Ronan might also bring them even closer to Ursula—who is not only open to interpack relations, but finds them incredibly romantic and erotic.
I close my eyes and allow myself to soak in the high-sun heat like a lizard basking on a rock.
Part of me wants to just bail. To run away from anything to do with love, sex—the emotions of other people—like I always have; I always do.
Just as I’m fantasizing about packing my suitcase, accepting that thisexperiencehas been another failure in my personal life; throwing in the towel and heading home—losing myself in more 80 hour work weeks until I succumb to exhaustion like a mummy; desiccated, wrung dry of all joy a silent husk collecting dust in my office chair at Pomme Verte, when Teddy seems toappear from nowhere—flopping down on the pool lounge beside me, leagues of his bronze skin exposed to the sun, slathered in oil that makes him dazzle like he’s been cut from glittering goldstone glass.
“What’s eatin’ you, Mav?” he sighs, eyeing me skeptically over the top of his mirrored wrap-around sunglasses.
He’s so difficult to take seriously when he looks like this—like such a stereotypical Hollywood fuckboy…not to mention incredibly hot.
I have always admired beauty. Be it a meandering jazz piano solo, a canvas laid with colorful daubs of paint, the perfection of jewel-like pomegranate seeds placed in a too-careful-to-be-random spray across a roguish smear of yogurt sauce wreathed in rainbow microgreens and neon green mint-cucumber coulis.
Hours were spent agonizing over the aesthetic of my restaurant. A huge point of my successes professionally, have hinged upon my deep obsession with the style and composition of each and every plate.
Maybe that’s how it snuck up on me. My admiration, my obsession—somehow transmuted itself into the very fabric of my desire.
Some of my misplaced pride balks at that admission; that I find Teddy incredibly beautiful—incredibly desirable.
It isn’t only beauty though. Perhaps that would make it easier to justify that way. If I’m honest with myself, I know it’s so much more than that.
I've felt more connected to Ursula, more eager than I have in a long time. I want to be around her—because she makes me feel good—more like a whole person rather than just my work. I'm hopeful when I think about a future with her in it—and I've never seen her. I don't have even the slightest clue of what she looks like. No beauty involved—and yet I yearn for her.
While Ronan is certainly beautiful, it was the way I felt when I was with him that made me want to be around. I hadn’t been ready to admit it to myself when Ronan and I had begun to skirt the line of more than friends, but I might just be getting close to admitting now.
I won’t spill my guts to Teddy—at least not quite yet. All of this is too new—too unsure. I need some time—and to talk with Ursula before I’m ready to start this discussion with any of the other guys.
Until then, I’ll have to figure out how to keep my shit cool—especially in front of the cameras.
Chapter Twenty
Teddy
After sleeping in, I drag my ass outside to get my tan a little deeper, especially if we’re going to be heading to the beach for this romantic getaway soon; I want to make sure I’m looking my best.