I collapsed into a chair the moment I stepped inside my dark, silent home. The exhaustion of the day acted like a physical weight, dragging my eyelids down. My body screamed for my bed, but before I could even stand, my consciousness drifted away, surrendering to the void of a much-needed rest.
I didn't realize how long I had been out until I felt a gentle, cautious tap on my shoulder. It was so light, so hesitant, as if the person were terrified of my reaction to being woken up.
I slowly forced my eyes open, only to see a familiar man standing over me. My brow furrowed in confusion. Where have I seen him before?
"Ah, ma'am, we're about to close," he said with a polite smile.
Ma'am? The only people who call me that are the vendors at the market back home.
I looked around, realizing the air had suddenly turned hot and heavy. My jaw dropped. I rubbed my eyes, praying I was seeing things, but the rhythm of my heart betrayed me. I was back. Back inside the book.
Am I being teleported or am I just having the most consistent dreams in history?
I stood up and bolted for the restroom to fix myself. My reflection was a horror show: messy hair, smudged makeup, and mascara bleeding under my eyes. My lipstick looked like I'd just survived a marathon of kisses.
Did I cry? Or rather... did the other Ensley cry?
I splashed my face with water, but the stubborn mascara stains remained. I shrugged it off, tied my hair into a simple ponytail, and luckily found a retouch kit in my bag. A little powder and a fresh coat of lipstick made my face presentable, but my clothes were another story. The maroon satin dress I was wearing smelled faintly of booze and was wrinkled beyond repair. I tried to drown the scent in perfume, but it only made me smell like a floral-scented distillery.
Exiting the restroom, I waved goodbye to the cleaning staff and stepped outside into the cool 1 AM air. Only one car remained in the lot: a white BMW with a plate that bore my name.
"Great. I own it, but I can't drive it," I whispered. I decided to leave it there and booked a Grab instead.
The basement parking of my condo was quiet when I arrived. As I walked toward the elevators, I spotted a familiar, slow-moving figure. He was engrossed in his phone, probably texting a client.
My mind raced. Should I wait? Or should I go in with him? The debate ended when he looked up and caught my eye.
"Hop in," he said, his voice a flat line of emotion.
Perseus pressed the button for the 40th floor without even asking me. I wondered if he remembered from the last time, or if the "other" Ensley had been riding with him frequently while I was gone.
"Good morning," he said, turning his head toward me.
"M-morning," I stammered, unable to meet his eyes. My brain was short-circuiting. How could I look at him after he rejected me so coldly at the hotel? I watched his reflection in the elevator door instead. He arched an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on me.
"I see you went to a party again," he noted, checking his silver wristwatch.
"Y-yes. Though I don't remember much."
"Seems so. Based on how you smell, you clearly enjoyed yourself," he said with a smirk.
My mouth hung open. Did he just tell me I stink? I discreetly sniffed my shoulder. It wasn't even that strong! I looked at him to find his lips pursed, clearly fighting back a laugh at my reaction.
I faked a cough to regain my composure. "Of course. I wouldn't go if I wasn't planning on having fun." I stood tall, closing my eyes and tilting my chin up in a show of bravado. He didn't respond, but that infuriating smirk remained.
I noticed he was carrying a brown briefcase and a paper bag. "What's the paper bag for? You coming from a trial?"
"Yes. A drug case," he answered, eyes fixed on the floor numbers.
"Are there drugs in there?" I pushed.
"You want to find out?" He turned to me, sensing my curiosity. He let me look inside, showing me sealed packets labeled Cannabis, Cocaine, Marijuana, Ecstacy. Is this really what he's been handling on his daily basis? Wow, everyday is a thrill for him, huh?
"It's my first time seeing these up close," I whispered in awe.
"If it weren't your first time, I might have to put you in jail," he joked.
"I don't use!" I snapped defensively. He just pursed his lips and turned away as the elevator chimed.
We reached the 40th floor. He stepped out, immediately taking his phone out to answer a call that has been ringing since I joined him inside the elevator. I trailed behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. Why is he moving so fast? Can't wait to talk alone with the person on the other end of the phone?
"Saturday, Ms. Cruz? I can work on that. I'll cancel some appointments to meet you... Sure. The usual spot?"
My blood boiled. I thought he didn't have time for anything but his profession? Yet here he was, canceling appointments for this "Ms. Cruz."
He stopped abruptly, his aura turning dark and heavy again. "Why do you keep following me?"
"Are you crazy? Why would I follow you?" I crossed my arms, mimicking his defensive posture.
"Then why are you here?"
"I'm going to my unit!" I defended myself.
"Really? Your unit is right by the elevator. Mine is at the opposite end." That mocking smirk was back.
I looked around. Crap. I had walked all the way to the end of the hallway without realizing it. "I... I wasn't following you!"
"Clearly, you were, Ms. Dela Merced," he said, turning to enter his unit.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me—the same vertigo I always felt during the "switch." I grabbed the hem of his suit jacket to steady myself.
"What now? Need something else?" he asked, his irritation obvious.
"I... want to go to my unit," I mumbled.
"Want me to escort you?" he asked sarcastically. I nodded, completely ignoring his sarcastic remarks. My head hurt too much to care about the shame, I'll let him think that I am making a move on him, which I clearly do not!
"You don't know how to get to your own door?" he spat, irritation is evidenced in his tone.
"My head feels... funny. I can't read the numbers. It's making the headache worse."
He sighed, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me along. His steps were huge; I practically had to run to keep up. "Please, slow down, Perseus," I whined, clutching my forehead.
He paused for a split second when I used his name, then continued more calmly until we reached my door. As I opened it, I felt a surge of gratitude. "Do you have free time this week?" I blurted out without even thinking. "Not for business. I want to treat you to a meal." At this point I just want to punch myself. How many times should I humiliate myself in front of him before this body could realize that it is already enough.
"Is that a date? I told you, I won't waste time on that." He looks at me as if I am a weird wood carving made by a child.
"It's not a date! Just a friendly dinner," I defended, again.
"We're not friends, Ms. Dela Merced," he said coldly before immediately shifting his gaze to another side of the hall.
My mouth clamped shut after he released those words from his mouth. Fine. If he wanted to be a jerk, let him.
He left without another word. Even looking at me before walking back to his unit, he failed to do it. He is a well known lawyer, but he clearly lacks in manner's department!
xxx
The next evening, my friends were over at my condo, surrounded by beer and snacks. We were having a "chill" night on the floor.
"I saw Perseus earlier," Felisse said, handing a Heineken to Stacey. "He was with a group. They seemed close," she added before nodding to what Stacey had been asking her. Probably asking for a snack that she's been craving since before they could sit on my carpeted floor.
I ignored them, my mind still stuck on my two-fold humiliation from the night before. I cannot bear to tell them that, to rub an additional salt on my wounds. This is why I despise guys who think highly of themselves. The reason I chose to be alone while my college friends have been talking about relationships all day and all night long.
"I think I heard a name... Axel? Yeah, Axel," Felisse continued, grinning. Based on her facial expression, it is evident that she's fantasizing about that man she's been talking about.
Axel. The name sounded familiar. Where did I get to hear that name for the first time?
"The Isaiah Axel Montoya? The heir to this building?" Penelope asked.
Oh, now I remember him. I'd seen him in the elevator once, along with that thick face Perseus Villamor and Kieffer Carson.
"I don't know! He was just good-looking, like Perseus and Kieffer," Felisse squealed while subtly hitting Stacey with her hand. By the looks of it, she's getting tipsy by the conversation goes by.
"They're not even that attractive," I whispered, sipping my soda.
"What? You're just bitter because you got rejected," Felisse laughed. Ignoring the fact that the words she just spills hit me directly where my ego is.
Stacey and Penelope are looking at me, testing the waters while Felisse is already swaying a bit, trying to dance herself through the music that has been playing on my speakers.
"Maybe her standard is still the same," Stacey teased, diverting the topic. "She likes them tall and slender, like her ex."
"Speaking of her ex," Penelope added, "Raven asked me for your schedule because you aren't replying to his texts," she sips while hiding her gaze through her drinking glass.
"I don't have time," I said shortly, trying to totally end all of the conversations that had to do with the love department. I should have cemented the entrance of it a long time ago.
A few topics had been chatted, the sound of a doorbell, rang and spread all throughout my condo. I stood immediately and ignored that sudden vertigo I experienced. I walked slowly, wobbling myself through the door to answer it, thinking it was the chicken wings the girls ordered. Instead, it was Raven who got to greet me.
"What is it?" I asked bluntly, without thinking that what I asked may come rude to him.
"I'm here to check on you. You're not answering me," he said, hands in his pockets.
I quickly scanned his whole attire. It looks like he came from an important event and quickly ran straight here after it, just to check on me.
"I've been busy, Raven." I tried to close the door, cutting him off, but he peered inside. "Can I join?" he pushed, trying his luck.
"It's a girls' night," Stacey shouted from the back. "Men aren't allowed!" she added, helping me to shoo Raven away.
"Then you aren't allowed either, Stephen," Raven smirked, mocking her.
Stacey lunged forward, feeling disrespected. However, the others are just in time, they hold her back before anything can happen. I felt a massive headache coming on, I do not know if it is from the issue that I am facing now, or is it the alcohol?
"Raven, please just leave," I asked, trying to make him leave for the second time.
"Just for a bit, Sera." He stepped forward, forcing me to retreat from holding myself against the door. He grabbed my wrists. "I won't even sit near him," he asked again, giving me a condition that as if, it would help the situation.
I was about to protest when a deep, masculine voice cut through the air.
"Raven? Good thing you're here."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Perseus.
He stood there, dressed down in a simple white shirt and black shorts, clutching a grocery bag in his left hand. It was clear he had just stepped off the elevator, likely returning from the gourmet market on the ground floor where one could find the finest ingredients for a home-cooked meal.
"Your father called for an appointment. He wants you to attend it," Perseus said, stepping into the light. His gaze dropped to Raven's hands on my wrists. His jaw tightened, his expression becoming dangerously heavy. I look away, I cannot fathom the thought that he's here again, but this time I am glad.
Raven immediately let go, looking uncomfortable and irritated. "Ugh, really? Just when I got here for Sera?" He protested like a child. "That old man really did know how to get under my skin," he whispered to himself.
"I'm sorry, babe. I've got things to do. I'll go check on you again next time,so, try to answer my texts and calls, okay?" He frustratedly said before he scrambled away.
Perseus stood there, his aura intimidating and dark. He sighed and turned to leave. He paused twice, looking back as if he had something to say, but ultimately decided against it and walked away into the shadows of the hallway.
I stood in the doorway, completely breathless and utterly clueless.
I just cannot come up with such an answer for how his mind and behavior works. It's like he is in a stream where his temperature is inconsistent, sometimes cold, sometimes warm.