FINE PRINT [✔]

Eighteen

The winding intricate corridors twisted and turned in confusing unnecessary shapes. My mind was focused on the task at hand. I did not want to get lost in corridors and lose my strength. My nerves immediately picked up when I finally spotted the clearly marked door. Wardrobe. A simple yet effective label. I looked down at my unbelievably dirty scruffy shoes and curses myself for not changing them. I glanced sideways to try and see if anyone was coming maybe I could ask for something to dust them up. After a few futile minutes of waiting for passers-by, I reached out for the door and gently opened while my heartbeat in my throat.

I stepped into the oddly spacious room and found an inconspicuous spot to stand in. I watched as an assistant dressed Timothy up in a black shirt with a very very wide v neck. The kind you see on a rich french extravagant man. Then some black jeans and wine red blazer. He looked expensive and tailored to perfection. My throat dried up as I let my eyes roam all over him before they noticed my presence.

"You need to open a few more buttons to show off your ..."

"If I open any more buttons I will be naked. Karen." He said holding her wrists as they came up to the front of his shirt.

"Fine have it your way."

He let her go as soon as he noticed me standing in the shadows.  He stood still but his eyes swept over my body two times without either of us saying a word. Karen continued to work on him oblivious of the mounting tension.

"Ah ... You look good?" I mumbled.

"You mean I look like I am about to prostitute my body?"

"Yes, but I would pay for your body in that shirt," I said smiling at his amused eye roll.

"You are thirsty. You would pay for this body in a burlap sack." He said laughing, causing Karen to strike him and mutter for him to hold still.

"So what's the occasion?" I asked glancing at my feet before looking up again.

"Well, I am going to be someone's husband. " He said with a wistful tone in his voice.

"You used to be my husband. " I said rubbing my neck and kicking the pavement under my shoe.

"Yeah, and you were mine." It wasn't a question just a statement.

"So are you happy?" I asked before feeling the edge of my lips with my teeth.

"Are you?"

"I used to be," I answered running my hand in my hair before looking him directly in the eyes.

"Huh, I wonder why." He said sarcastically. Then Karen told him to turn so his back was facing me.

I watched as she working on his outfit and trimmed threads and fixed invisible things. I wouldn't have put it past her to be taking long just to see where our conversations were going. I watched his relaxed, unbothered demeanour almost as if all the prepping and trimming they were doing to him was second nature. He took it all in stride like he was the son of a rich royal family. And maybe he was in his own way. Watching him get fixed and sorted reminded me of the huge difference between us. I hadn't noticed it before but standing in a place where I was at a disadvantage made our differences glaringly obvious.

"I passed by the library," I said. Attempting to draw his attention towards me.

"Yeah? How is it doing."

"It probably needs you back," I said trying not to sound like I was whining.

Karen signalled for Timothy to turn again. Now he stood there facing me making me feel vulnerable and exposed under his scrutinizing glare. He parted his lips as if to say something but was disrupted a frantic assistant that rushed in looking as agitated as I felt.

"Karen that's enough! The camera won't catch all these other tiny things you are imagining! Timothy, we need you out there now. Goerge has six other people to photograph after this, so if you delay any longer you will miss your spot."

Timothy stood there staring at me without uttering a word. Karen stepped back and exhaled before dismissing him with the wave of her hand. And yet he didn't move.

"Timothy! I don't have all day." The assistant grumbled.

"Hold me, one more time?" He asked as he stretched his hand out to me.

I placed my hand in his, painfully aware of how sweaty palms were. A fact Timothy ignored as he held my hand firmly. I let the words he used replay in my mind taking note of one simple fact. He hadn't said one last time. Maybe there was hope. Maybe he also thought there was hope. I watched the link our hands formed as I felt the bubbly fizzing effect of the butterflies in my stomach. The action made me feel like we fit. Like we were meant to be, as cliche as that sounds. We were perfect together. Why hadn't he seen that? Why was he out here looking for a new spouse? I thought I was all he needed. Now he was dressing up and being groomed for someone else.

He tugged at my hand as he walked towards a door further into the building. The room was bright and dull at the same time. It wasn't your typical shape either. It was built in a way that it had eight walls and each wall was a different colour. And there were different objects before each wall.

Timothy stood before me and leaned down to kiss my forehead then a look of horror flashed on his face as he realised he probably was not allowed to do that anymore. He withdrew with a mask covering his emotions the only thing betraying him was the way he clenched his hands the moment he let them hang by his sides.

"We can talk after my photoshoot. " He said in a controlled neutral voice with no visible sign of what we would 'talk' about was. But I had a sinking suspicion it was to tell me to move on since he was clearly moving on.

I always thought to tag along to a photo shoot would be boring but Timothy was made for the camera. His face screamed dominance and for some reason that stilled my beating heart. There was this aura of him that was in a sign of how comfortable was in front of a camera. Almost as if this was his element. Forget the Mafia, Timothy was made to be a model.

He let his eyes meet me once when they were reshuffling and moving to a darker wall. Something hot and fiery burnt through me to the core. I felt tingles in places I didn't know could tingle. And it woke me up in the one place I didn't want waking up in public. And as if he knew what he was doing to me he smirked then winked. My heart was past its normal beating rate. If he did anything else I was sure I would go into cardiac arrest. And yet he still wasn't mine anymore.

The assistant came and pointed towards me. Instead of being discreet and gossiping as all normal people do she pointed at me before leaning close and whispering somethingto him. This resulted in him laughing and my heart constricted. I had almost forgotten about his gorgeous ethereal smile. The smile that defeated anyone with eyes. And his laugh that sang lullabies to my ears.

At that moment all I knew was I didn't want anyone else and I didn't want him to have anyone else. He was going to go home with me, screw what he really wanted. I took him home once before I realised I wanted him. It was only fair he did the same.