Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 7

Emersyn

I decide to stay in my room for the rest of the night, I'm still feeling the lingering embarrassment of Marx seeing me in only a towel. My face flushes again just thinking about it, and I know I'll be replaying that moment over and over in my head. Even though I'm sure I heard Marx leave not long ago, I don't want to chance leaving my room and having to face him. I can't shake the intense look he gave me, and it's left me feeling both vulnerable and yet weirdly fascinated. If his look alone can do that, I wonder what his touch could do?

Wait, shit. I need to stop. He's basically my landlord, I need to stop lusting after this guy.

I sit down at my desk and pull up the old laptop Valarie lent me. The screen flickers to life, and I start scrolling through job listings. I've applied for a few already, but none of them are really what I want. They're just jobs, mundane tasks that I'll have to endure to make ends meet. But I know that I can't afford to be picky right now. I need income, stability, something to ground me as I rebuild my life.

You would think having a college degree would have widen my job pool, but sometimes I feel as though it made it even smaller. I have an undergraduate in fine arts, and while some jobs think that I'm overqualified due to my schooling, others think the opposite. I can do so much with my degree, yet so little at the same time. Which is how I was stuck with an office job in sales.

My eyes flit across various postings for retail positions, customer service roles, administrative work. Nothing catches my eye, nothing speaks to my passions or my dreams. But then again, I'm not sure I even know what those are anymore. Everything's been turned upside down, and the future that once seemed so clear is now a murky haze.

With a sigh, I click on another listing, a part-time position at a local bookstore. It's not glamorous, and it won't pay much, but books have always been a solace for me. Maybe working around them could bring me some comfort, even if it's just for a little while.

I fill out the online application, trying to make my scant experience sound appealing. It's been a long time since I've had to search for a job, and I can feel my confidence waning. Still, I hit "submit" and hope for the best.

I spend the next hour or so browsing more listings, applying for a few that seem tolerable, and then finally shut the laptop with a feeling of frustration and exhaustion.

With a contented sigh, I climb into bed, pulling the soft, blue-gray comforter around me. As I drift off to sleep, my thoughts keep returning to Marx, his intense gaze, and the inexplicable pull I felt.

Loud music blasting from the living room jolts me awake. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I climb out of bed, padding to the door to investigate. The music is like something you'd hear at a frat party, but as I walk into the living room, the scene is entirely different.

Two men, dancing together as though they're listening to a slow melody meant for only the two of them, fill the space with a strangely intimate energy. Their movements are graceful and synchronized, and I stand and watch them for a moment, mesmerized by the connection between them.

One has long, curly brown hair tied back in a ponytail, a prominent nose, and a mustache that lends him a distinguished appearance. His features are strong yet delicate, and his tall, slender, lanky build adds to an air of elegance. Despite his height, he doesn't quite reach the towering stature of Marx. There's something calming about him.

The other man's skin is a rich, deep brown, his face full of stubble and expressive eyes. He's just barely shorter than the other dancer, with a stocky build that speaks of strength. His voice, when he finally notices me and turns down the music, booms and fills the room. The energy he exudes is wild but distinctly different from Fowler's manic enthusiasm.