I want him to feel my longing; how lonely I get sometimes. I want him to know all of me through this simple act of intimacy. However, he pulls away before I can go further. Our breathes are fast and come in rushed gasps. He looks at me like I'm the only one he sees. A vortex build up in the pit of my stomach and I don't know how to explain it for a moment.
"Has your ex ever kissed you like that?"
The sweet moment I am basking in pauses. "I don't know." I say honestly and I get to my feet and flee. I run back to my room and lock the door. I start to berate myself. What if he's a criminal? What if he is a villain? Why did I let him kiss me like that? He must think I'm easy. Oh, mother, I feel so stupid. I'm about to unite with my mate tomorrow and here I am daydreaming about another man. I feel around my mouth as if I want to retain some of that warmth he left on me. I can't stop thinking about that kiss. His hands on my thighs, on my waist. Ugh. I pull the duvet covers over my head and groan.
I wake up from a dream and I groggily stare at the alarm clock. I sigh. I'm late. I break into a scuffle; bathing, brushing, brushing, slipping into my clothes—a flurry of activities. I leave my room and go to the dining room, heading to the fridge for some fruits. I can't stay for breakfast since I'm so late. I'm greeted with my mom and Aaron sitting for breakfast, conversing. I mindlink my mom, «mommy, you're being too nice to a stranger.»
She eyes me, «it's called simple courtesy.»
«It's an eyesore.»
«Whatever.»
"Morning, Ms. Olsen." Aaron raises one fine brow at me. His brown hair is brushed and tied into a fine bun. Finer than the messy bun sitting on top of my head right now. "Are you going to work? It's already late. Should you hurry?" He's mocking me. I suddenly feel the need to skip work. He probably can't wait to see me leave. Scratch the sweet kiss last night. I don't trust him. I look at my mom, almost glaring. She merely nods. Reassuringly as if she understands my fear. I'll be fine. I'm still concerned but I leave.
It takes about twenty six minutes or so to get to my workplace. Thirty-five minutes later and I blame it on slow traffic. Today isn't my lucky day. My white t-shirt is marred with a child's tea during my wait for a taxi in the subway and all I can do is stare at him while his mother apologizes profusely. Now my sandals strap has snapped and I'm practically walking around in the store on foot. I can't help but heap all the blame on Aaron Turner. I let him kiss me last night and now I'm a bag of nerves.
"Whoa," Nicole Timothy says as soon as I step into the store on foot. "Baby, you're a mess. What happened?"
"Tell me about it. Today is just not my day."
"You've got to go clean up. You can't look like that attending to clients. Especially the VIPs. You know they like..."
"I know..." I go to the ladies bathroom, passing by a couple of coworkers and we're murmuring greetings to each other. I try to open the tap but it refuses to budge. I try a few times until I get impatient and miscalculate my strength and practically wrench it out, the water spraying all over me and I scream. I cover it with my hands, tilting my chin away, all to no avail. I suck my teeth and yell, "fuck! You've got to be kidding me. Someone!" I call out, "someone, help me!"
Someone does come to my aid. A beautiful man. He's dressed in a blue suit and his brown hair is cropped. His hazel eyes scans the situation and he chuckles. I'm displeased. He has a nose mask on so I don't recognize who this man is. I don't know if he finds my predicament funny or he's laughing at something else entirely. He goes under the sink and fiddles with the pipe and the water recedes. I look at my clothes and I feel like crying. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of something when I feel a hand enclosing my right shoulder. My eyes snap open and I growl, ready to charge. Instead, he takes his suit off his body and hands it to me. I look at him.
"You don't want it?"
What? Of course I want it. I take it from him and slip it on, then say in the smallest voice possible, "thank you." I sigh and regard him with utmost respect, "are you looking to buy a car, sir?"
"Yes. Ms. Timothy is finalizing the dealership contract." His voice is soft. Not too deep like Aaron's.
"Oh. Okay." I look down at my bare feet and sigh again. The clothes had been taken care of... Just the shoes. He peers at me. I can see him through my hair.
"What's your name?"
"Ah... um... Leticia Olsen."
"Leticia, you don't have a footwear?"
I cringe in embarrassment and try to retract my feet from his scrutiny. I feel like digging a hole and hiding there for the rest of my days. He looks at me with a smirk, his hazel eyes filled with amusement at my expense. Something about him reminds me of Aaron Turner. "Oh, uh... My footwear. Well... My sandals snapped. I can't..." I stop stammering and bite my lower lip, considering the option to run and never come back.
I see him take out his phone and he calls someone, "Nathan, can you go to a convenience store and get me some ladies shoes for a nice woman?" He takes the phone out his ear and asks me, "What's your size?"
"40," I say. I have pretty big feet for a lady.
"Her shoe size is 40. Please, hurry." He puts his phone right back in his pocket.
"Thank you. You're so nice." I want to kneel and pledge my allegiance too but I'm at my workplace. That'd be too low.
"That's no problem." He takes a breath, "so, what's your job around here?"
"A salesperson."
"So, why haven't I seen you before?"
I laugh nervously and scratch my nose. I've been working here every five days for four years now. Everyone sees me when they come into the sales store. Maybe he hasn't noticed me until now. I don't have a reply for this question.
His phone ringtone blares the bathroom and he takes it out and picks up, "I'm in the ladies bathroom. Hurry over before some women see me here and start screaming." He glances at me as if expecting a reaction from me. I hold a laugh. A laconic man hurry inside, carrying shopping bags. He stops short before him and bows. The man who gave me his suit gestures at me and Nathan hands me the shopping bags. "For you."
"I... I can't thank you enough..."
"Please to meet you, Leticia." And he is gone. Like a breeze. He's gone. I check the shopping bags and see the shoes. A black flat sandals worth a hundred grand. In fact, all of them are expensive. I suddenly feel like putting my feet in the shoes will be a sin.
♣ ♣ ♣
"Baby, looks like your boyfriend got you some clothes, huh?" Nicole Timothy says when she sees me approach my desk.
"Zephyr broke up with me. He doesn't care about my problems. A man was kind enough to give his suit. He even bought me shoes." I flaunt the shopping bags and the Zara sandals I'm wearing.
"Ooh. A so-not secret admirer." She nudges me, "tell me. What did he look like?"
"Cropped brown hair. Hazel eyes? He said you were processing his dealership paperwork. I don't—"
"No way." She's laughing, her voice high-pitched. "Regan Turner? Did The Regan Turner meet you in the ladies bathroom?"
I start feeling a sense of déjà-vu. Regan Turner. His name leaves an inexplicable taste in my mouth. Aaron Turner. Are these two related?