Chapter three
1699 Words
For a second, I just stood there, breathing him in. The faint scent of clean soap and smoky wood clung to his skin, mingling with the small chill of the morning air. Tiny beads of salty sweat formed around the edges of his collar, darkening the navy blue fabric across his chest. Judging from his appearance, he must have been running. And ran into my coffee.
His hand was still on the small of my back, and I could feel every inch of it through my jacket.
“Uh…..” I managed to say, because clearly I was an eloquent queen in heart-stopping moments like these.
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was searching for a read on me. Then without waiting for an answer, he instantly let go of me and stepped back. I instinctively felt bare and cold at that moment.
“You look like you could use it,” He added, as if he was trying to convince me. He shoved his well-manicured long hands into the pockets of his gym trousers.
“I…uhm..,” I hesitated, still slightly embarrassed. To come up with an excuse, I checked my watch. If I weren't at work in fifteen minutes, I would really get chewed out. “I'm running late for work,”
I was sure I saw the corners of the mask twitch.“You could make an excuse.”
“Unfortunately for me, I'm not eligible for one,” I breathed out, hoping he wouldn't poke further. He had asked me nicely about the coffee, and I didn’t want to come off rude because my life was falling apart and no one knew.
“Okay,” He shrugged simply. “I could help you if you let me. You okay?” His voice cut through, very calm and genuine.
I shook my head quickly, with my heartbreaking emotions rushing back into my brain, my heart squeezing so much I could barely breathe. “I'm fine.”
It was such an obvious lie that I laughed out loud to myself. Instantly, my laughter cracked into something sharp and shaky, and before I could stop it, one tear slid down my cheek.
“Sh*t,” I muttered, taking off my glasses and wiping hastily at my cheeks. “I'm sorry. This is… not…” My voice continued to crack, humiliatingly.
His arms reached out to me as if to comfort me, enfolding me in a bear hug. “Don't apologise.”
With that, I cried out my heart on his chest.
****
The café he led me to was warm and refreshing, the air thick with espresso and loads of herbal tea leaves. Definitely a step up from the little spot where I usually grabbed my “special” coffee. Honestly, I could never afford a place like this on my own.
It was oddly comforting, but I still felt a dull ache in my chest. I wasn’t even supposed to be here…I was supposed to be buried in my work halfway across the city, avoiding Mitch like my life depended on it, not sitting in front of some ridiculously tall stranger whose shirt I had already soaked with tears.
He seemed to be a regular and an affluent person, because the moment we entered the café, we were ushered into a cosy VIP section, and our orders were taken immediately. I had raised an eyebrow when he placed my order.
“I knew it was vanilla,” He explained, finally taking off his mask. I blinked. Twice. His full face was gorgeous.
“It was all over the place.” He added with a little twitch at the corners of his mouth.
“Thanks…” I muttered, not meeting his eyes right away. I wanted to ask if he had kids. But then I realised Vanilla could mean other things, and the thought made heat creep up my cheeks. I busied myself rummaging through my bag like I’d lost something, although really, I just didn’t want him to see how embarrassed I was. I never cried in public. Ever. And now, I had to go and break down in front of him.
Thankfully, our drinks came, and he took mine and handed it over without a word. My fingers brushed his, and the heat from the cup coursed through my hands, warming my insides.
“So,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on me. “You need to tell me where you work. I’ll take care of your hours and inform your boss.”
My head snapped up immediately. “I don't think that's necessary,”
“It is,”
“You don't understand, I work per hour. If I don't show up, I won't get paid.”
“You will,” he said to me, his tone leaving no room for argument.
That was when I realised he wasn’t the type who liked to be argued with. Still, his voice remained calm. “I just want you to relax. You are not in any shape to be at work right now. Trust me. I'll help you if you let me.”
I did. In a matter of seconds, he had called whom I felt was his secretary. He was really a big shot, the type Mitch was so much intimidated by. I felt the immediate need to apologise for what I did to his shirt.
“I'm sorry about your shirt…” I began, and he gave me a puzzled look. I swallowed hard and kept going. “I don’t usually…” The words jumbled from my mouth. “God, I can’t even blame the hormones. I just…got dumped.”
Something flickered in his eyes then. But it wasn’t pity.
“He must be an i***t,” he said simply.
That made me laugh, a little too softly. I shyly lowered my gaze to my lap. “No. He just… really doesn’t love me anymore.”
Silence settled between us. Not the awkward kind, but the kind that made me wonder what was going through his head.
“Then he’s still an i***t,” he said finally, quiet but firm, while sipping his coffee, his expression calm and unreadable. I met his gaze for the first time we had sat down in the café, those piercing blue eyes locked on mine, holding me in one place. There was a sense of peace between us, with an unsettling calm, like he would always be there to watch me rant. But a girl like me could only dream.
His phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, then stood up immediately.
“I have to go, Bree.” He spoke, my name rolling off his tongue for the first time. I liked the way it sounded, coming from him. “Urgent matters to handle,”
I nodded, a little disappointed our time was cut short. I was grateful for his help, even though I could give him nothing in return. “I understand. Thank you for talking to my boss,”
He gave a small nod and turned to leave.
The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Wait...what’s your name?”
He didn’t answer right away. He paused, turned back and just studied me like he was deciding whether or not to give it. Then finally, and slowly, he said,
“Karl.”
******
It was well past noon when I stepped into GalleryBridge studios, and my mood had much improved since my encounter with Karl. To hide the puffiness of my eyes because I had cried so much, my glasses were back on. I carried on a widened smile that didn't reach my eyes. Not that they would notice.
“Good afternoon, Breeee,” someone called, too cheerfully. It was Cam from the reception. She was a sweet woman and also had a habit of being nice to everyone, so it usually didn't count. Except right now, for some reason, she was being too sweet.
“Afternoon, Cam,” I responded, and made a beeline for the stairs before Cam tried to start a conversation (because she was about to)….which was odd, because no one at work wanted to have to deal with me. I was a human radioactive sign.
My corner was on the second floor. It was a cramped and barely insulated space, but it was all mine. A half-wall separated it from the main gallery space where ‘Elsie, the demon’ usually held court, and her internalised minions showered her with fake praise.
On reaching my corner, I threw my bag down, sat on my desk which overflowed with stacks of unfinished sketches, and powered on my college-old MacBook. The file I would have presented yesterday stared at me, which dampened my mood once more. I chewed on my lower lip, temporarily forgetting I had lipstick on.
A shadow appeared in front of me.
“Uh..Bree?”
“Yeah?” I looked up, slightly irritated. It was Alice, our sales manager.
“We had huge sales from your catalogue this morning. Every single piece was bought.”
My eyes did a double-take underneath my glasses. The catalogue was created four months ago.
“Huh? You're sure it's mine?”
“Yes Bree,” Alice said enthusiastically, sounding very overly nice. “The Boss is very pleased. It seemed you met with a high-profile client. ”
I frowned. High-profile Client?
“Can you give me the client information?” I inquired, hoping she could tell me. The entire catalogue had totalled five thousand dollars. It didn't seem like my work could get all sold off all of a sudden.
“I signed an NDA.”
Yep. that did it for me. I laughed genuinely for the second time in twenty-four hours. It was Ivy and Yvonne's doing. Definitely Yvonne's idea.
Alice gave me a look that said I had already lost my mind. I shooed her away from my desk and continued to smile. My friends saved my ass today without knowing it.
As if on cue, Ivy's caller ID flashed on my phone screen. I picked it up on the first ring.
- Writer
