Chapter 4
1236 Words
At last, Saturday!
Emma was already dressed when Genevieve stirred awake. She had this particular art piece she wanted to draw inspiration from at the gallery. She smiled a broad smile and shrugged.
“Good morning, Vieve."
Genevieve thought she was in one bad dream. The one where you slept in on Friday night only to wake up on Monday morning.
“You have a lecture this morning?"
Emma shook her head.
“No. I want to go draw inspiration from some piece at the gallery."
“Need company?"
Emma thought of how much longer she'd have to wait for Genevieve to freshen up and get dressed. Whatever. She could wait anyway. She sat in silence, watching Vieve until she couldn't see her anymore. She began to see the mall guy's face. Her heart raced and the only thing she could think of was how to give him her mobile contact and then ask his name. Of course, without telling him hers.
“Emma, why are you breaking out in a sweat?"
She snapped out of her reverie, totally confused as to why her roommate had just asked her the same question the mall guy had asked her over and over again.
“I don't know…I think I'm just being nervous.”
She could see that Genevieve was fully dressed now. She wore a gray strap-back gown. It looked more like she was attending an important social function. Emma was worried that her friend might just have a little obsession with looking classic.
"A gown?”
Genevieve nodded, looking herself over.
"Something wrong? Didn't I get my hair right? Are the shoes off?”
Emma's eyes gradually traveled down to the shoes. They also had straps all the way above her ankle but not reaching her knees. Just somewhere mid-calf. She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.
"What is it, Emma?"
“I just asked why you chose a gown and you're making me analyze other things you are wearing. Your hair is perfect but can you change out of this to something else?"
Genevieve looked worried.
“I hope you're not telling me to wear something more like what you have on you now?"
Emma had a sweatshirt on with a pair of sneakers to match the gray color of her outfit. Her hair was in a simple ponytail, not that type that looked all sleek and shiny.
“I don't exactly look bad, you know. I just have my own style. More reason: I'm an artist. I think you should just stick with your complex theatrical life every other day but today, we're rocking this gallery my way."
An outfit idea popped into Genevieve's mind. Right. She took out a white T-shirt and a plaid wool vest. Then she took out a pair of trainers she'd been hoping to use. Emma just watched in silence. She finally took out a pair of fitting black jeans. Not too tight, not too loose. Just perfect. Emma seemed impressed.
“Well done. All for trying to look my way. But I think I still spotted a hint of formality."
Genevieve waved her off. Just come off it. She felt she had made the perfect choice. She drew her hair upwards and backward into a sleek ponytail and put on a layer of dark red lipstick. Then a little gloss to shine it. Perfecto. She picked a large dark spectacle.
“How do I look?"
Emma was quick to spit the answer.
"Fierce.”
"As always”, Genevieve added with a smile, grabbing her friend's arm. "Now, let's go rock that gallery.”
Twenty minutes later and an overcast sky. Genevieve was beginning to get unsettled as she became disappointed that she had looked and smelled this good to stand on the curb this long.
Emma tried not to look as disturbed but you could tell she was getting a little impatient.
"Didn't you book a cab to take us down there?”
Genevieve finally decided to spill her thoughts.
"I did”, Emma replied calmly. "But I can't seem to get through to him. Feels like his phone is dead.”
Just then, a cab pulled up. Desperate, Genevieve hailed it. She quickly got into the front seat while Emma went for the back one.
"We're heading to the gallery. How much do you charge?”
The driver didn't even raise his eyes to the rearview mirror to see who he was talking to.
"Ten bucks.”
Both ladies turned to each other. A pleasant bonus. After Emma had booked a ride for twenty-five; which didn't come anyway.
“Emma, I'll remind you to request for a refund. The money could be useful in some other areas."
The drive was going to use up a great part of one hour. Emma kept looking up into the rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver's face. His voice strongly reminded her of the mall guy. The way he smelled too.
“What's your name?"
The driver looked up and met Emma's gaze. Genevieve turned to look at her friend, pleasantly surprised that she had initiated a conversation. But Emma wasn't seeing her look. She was dumbstruck.
“Aren't you that quirky girl from the mall?", the driver asked.
Emma felt the earth crumbling about her. Sadly, she had lied about her name the other day. She lowered her gaze and buried both her hands into her thighs. Small world.
“How come you're Emma? I thought you said your name is April. I like Emma though. And I'm Kevin by the way."
Genevieve was just watching with both amusement and bewilderment. She was engrossed in the moment and didn't want to get out of it. Finally, a love interest. She funnily eyed Emma.
"So, you're the mall guy?"
“The mall guy", Kevin scoffed. “Oh, please."
Genevieve turned to Emma.
“Miss Jared, I think we've finally found the love of your life."
Both she and Kevin burst into uncontrollable laughter while color filled Emma's cheeks. She sighed a silent sigh of relief. No one dwelled on her wrongdoing of lying about her name anymore. They were more concerned with getting her a date. Which wasn't quite what she wanted.
“I'm so sorry, Kevin. I was just too nervous and I didn't want you thinking about me in that light under my true identity."
Kevin laughed loudly.
"It's alright. I'm not mad at you. How about you give me your mobile contact and we call it even?”
Genevieve eyed her. She swallowed hard.
"Okay…", she responded quickly.
Kevin handed her a small notepad and a black pen. It had to be worth everything: the stall, the nick, and more importantly, the lie. It had been quite an uneasy wait. At least he skipped the part where he had to tell his mother that he had been late for dinner because he was trying without success to woo a girl.
Emma took the notepad and the pen. It wasn't long before she went into her element. She scribbled her number immediately and went on to draw large floral designs on the page. It's quite funny how she hadn't been in love before but she knew all that she wanted in a relationship. If he was a man who was cultured, he'd eventually find her number and call her.
“Thank you, Emma."
- Writer
