Chapter 2: Cora
1384 Words
The stranger sits completely still, his face turned to the window, giving me only his side-profile.
Matt kissing that girl stings like a fresh cut every time it forces its way into my head. But after a moment, in the reflection of the large windows, I can see exactly where the stranger is looking.
The top of my thigh-high split. Without thinking, I cross my legs and watch his Adam’s apple bob.
Oh wow. I kind of like that.
Guilt hits the back of my throat in thick clumps. Hurt and anger from Matt cheating mixing in..Talking to this man is lashing out, I know. But everyone has their own way of dealing with things.
“So, what were you doing in my way then?”
He pauses, before replying, “Coming over to ask if I could buy you a drink.”
My honey hair swishes as I shake my head and chuckle. I feel electrified.
Is Matt the only one allowed to have fun tonight?
I'll be painfully, miserably single tomorrow. But tonight? I’m in this vague, mysterious zone where nothing feels quite real.
I lean a little towards the stranger on my stool. There’s a tingly cinnamon somewhere in that deep woodsy cologne of his.
Lowering my voice, “The windows reflect, you know. I can see how you're looking at me.”
He smirks, keeping his face straight ahead. No dimples, but he’s clean shaven, short, jet black hair. The way he sits has the shirt straining in all the right places. He's definitely built.
“Looking at you like what?”
Like he wants to f**k me.
Like how I wanted Matt to look at me. My n*****s begin to perk under my orange silk gown.
I want to reach out and feel if he’s hard.
I’ve definitely, one-hundred percent lost my mind. I'm doing the very opposite of weeping over three lost years. I'm rejuvenating. Reinventing myself as someone who doesn’t get cheated on. Who is the leader, not the sheep.
“You’re looking at me in a way that makes me think you don’t have a gentleman’s intentions.”
His boyish grin reappeared. “I think you’re making things way too complicated.”
“Fine. You’re looking at me like you really, really want to sleep with me.”
“Oh. Well then yes, you’re correct. Well done,” giving me a devilish full smile.
The combination of champagne and confidence is dangerous, because I blurt, “I’d say, you look like you’re working out how much I’d cost for the night. In theory.”
“You are…one hundred percent accurate. In theory,” clinking my glass with his.
I laugh. Why is this back and forth so easy, I don’t even know his name.
I like how he sits. Like nobody else matters, he's not sizing up everyone who comes in. He’s either looking straight at me or checking me out in the window. It’s all me and it’s pure temptation.
“Seriously, why did you come over?”
Furrowing his brow and pretending to struggle, he makes a show of looking at my feet, shins, thighs, waist, chest and finally my face. He clicks the roof of his mouth like he’s stumped for an answer.
It’s designed to make me laugh but at the same time, heat is building. Everywhere his eyes land, is where I need his hands to touch. Everywhere.
Slowly his smile is replaced with a more serious, considered expression. “I thought you looked real. That’s all.”
I pull a sarcastic face. “Too many hours on dating apps?”
“I just didn’t think it would be so hard to find someone who wanted what I have to give them. You know, those couples that last forever. Grandparents, parents, how the hell did they find their soulmates with all the fakes and liars out there?”
Right now, I’m not in the mood to dissect relationship strategy. My relationship is currently imploding on itself in a hotel room across the road. Slumping a little into my barstool, “Perfect isn’t possible. Soulmates are…a nice idea That’s it.”
“You’re wrong, I’ve seen it.”
“Your parents?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky you,” sipping my drink. I don’t say it, but I’ve not seen much success in my mom’s dating life. They all start out perfect. Soon as she lets them move in, the cracks start to show.
But this guy looks handsome, normal enough, well dressed and sane. He must have ridiculously high standards. Or maybe he’s OCD and one hair on the bathroom floor is game over. Or he’s a mad fantasist.
“So you’re wanting some completely flawless and perfect soulmate?”
He shrugs, looking away from me and across the road. “I’m done looking for now.”
Charming. Yeah, he’s as f****d up as me. I let out a soft sigh, glancing across the road. Matt has vanished, probably upstairs with his new girl.
His voice drops, more bitter than I anticipated. “I don’t want perfect by the way. Maybe it’s my job. I find the faults in everything.”
“Same, it can be stressful,” I mutter, thinking of diagnosing illnesses. Everything is a potential downfall, no stone can be left unturned.
Blowing out his cheeks he stops himself from saying any more. Instead his hand lands on my upper thigh. Shattering my remaining brain cells.
It tells me something as dark and real as the inky street beneath us. Tonight isn’t time for a pity party, pouring my heart about my shitty boyfriend.
It’s about making tonight into a story that doesn’t revolve around my heart being broken. Or his failed search for perfection.
This is about making a fantasy come to life.
He looks straight at me, like he’s sizing up a diamond. I’m under scrutiny. I’m spellbound. Without thinking my body is twisting to face him on the barstool, legs almost touching.
“I was watching from the second you walked in, you know..” He leans in, like he’s going to kiss me, only to murmur, “Then I started to think, what the hell is underneath that dress. Because if there is nothing but one layer of flimsy silk between us right now, I’m going to struggle to walk away.” holding up my hand like it’s proof of ownership.
God this feels like some mad fantasy. “You’re all romance you know.”
“You’re all legs,” and when I break into a smile, shaking my head a little he leans in closer. “So go on, name your price, in theory.”
I know the figure instantly. The fantasy, lottery-win amount I need to clear my student loans in hooker-fantasy role-play land. In theory, it just means we’re playing the same game.
“In theory? Fifty grand, I’d be all yours for the night.” I smile, my nose brushing his cheek softly.
“All mine?” returning the gesture, his hot breath
“Yep.”
“Hmm. Seems an awful lot of money.”
“Oh it is. But you’re looking for flawless aren’t you?”
“Not tonight.”
Giggling, my head dips down, resting onto his shoulder. I like this. It’s easy. Natural. He’s as idiotic as me. But I don’t want laughs, I want heat.
“I’d be all yours…until I broke you.”
His eyebrow quirks. Like I’m waving a red flag at a bull. “You broke me?”
“Yep, left you unable to do anything but remember the stranger who wrecked you,”
I’m talking nonsense, but it’s fun. It’s numbing my heart from thinking about what Matt is doing to that platinum blonde princess in the building across the road.
For a few seconds we stare into each other’s eyes. His dark and brooding, but still laced with heat. On the tip of my tongue is the wish to tell him I’m only joking.
Firmly, in a voice that does not allow refusals he adds. “Come on.”
“What?”
Standing up from the bar stool he gives my hand a little tug, until I’m standing next to him. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Oh holy s**t.
- Writer
