DIRTY ATTRACTION

2

"Too bad you didn’t come with us!" said Pat as he had lunch with Ingrid at the RTA cafeteria.

"Crazy, what will I do there if ever?"

Pat was Ingrid's paternal cousin, just a year older than her. They grew up together, so she considers him like a brother. He was also her best friend.

"Well, you’ve had a crush on Maverick Logan for a long time, right? That was your chance to meet him in person!"

She pouted at him. "Like I could tell my boss I wanted to tag along."

"You should’ve asked if your presence was needed there. They might’ve talked about Maverick’s contract renewal. You could’ve taken notes or something. My God, Ingrid! Get rid of that shyness if you want to go far here."

"What? I've been working here for almost two years now. I don’t have any bad records, okay? I honestly think I’m doing a great job," she said proudly—something she rarely did. But it was true—she knew she was good at her job and could say that with confidence. "Raffy likes me too."

Their immediate superior, Raffy, didn’t like being called “Ma’am” or “Boss.” She was friendly with the staff, especially with Pat, who was also her executive assistant. Raffy always admired Ingrid’s work ethic. She even told her that if she wanted to move up in the company, she should apply whenever a position opened up.

"Yes, but, coz, you have to be more aggressive. That’s exactly why you took this job—to wake up the confidence that’s been dormant because of the misogynistic environment we grew up in."

"What are you talking about? I’m not shy like I was on my first day here, okay?"

"Yes, but you should also learn how to kiss ass like I do! Look at me, I’m super happy with my position at work right now. Suck up to Noah too!"

Ingrid laughed. "You know I can’t do that."

"There's nothing wrong with ass-kissing if you know you deserve the perks you're getting, right? And, hello? I’m good at what I do, and I work really hard; that’s why Raffy likes me." Pat giggled. "I only sucked up to him so I could tag along on his fancy trips."

She stirred her pineapple juice. "Sir Noah is really different from Raffy, so that kind of stuff won’t work on him."

"How have your three days with him been so far?"

"It’s okay," she replied with a shrug.

"He’s not being grumpy or anything? There’s a bad rap going around that he’s strict. Raffy told me that too."

"Not really. Actually, Sir Noah is kind."

Ingrid smiled at the memory of him liking how she made his coffee. She used to have the impression that the CEO of RTA was a bit aloof, serious, and not the type who talks or smiles much.

"Does he have a boyfriend?" she accidentally said in a low voice.

Sometimes, Ingrid had the bad habit of mumbling incoherently what was on her mind. Maybe it came from years and years of not having the right to voice her own opinion because she lived in a house where only her late father's voice mattered.

Pat choked on the Coke he was drinking—he must've heard what Ingrid said. "Boyfriend? Are you saying you think Sir Noah is gay?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Oh—he’s not?"

"Dummy! If there’s anyone who’d be the first to know if Sir Noah’s gay, it would be me. I can smell green blood a mile away no matter how hard someone tries to hide it."

"Well, I didn’t really feel it. I just thought it was possible. It’s just… he looks too clean, you know? He’s really into pastel-colored polos. Like right now, he’s wearing a light pink long-sleeved shirt. Yesterday, he was in white pants too."

"And so what? Masculine clothes in light or pastel colors are in style now. Why, look at me—I love dark colors, but I’m totally gay! The problem with you is you got used to that good-for-nothing ex of yours who was too lazy to shave and always looked like he was in mourning because all he ever wore were black T-shirts."

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Did you really have to bring that up?"

"Seriously, Ingrid? You need to hang out with guys or go on a date so you can erase that default image of men that Eric forced you to believe. Because he’s a guy, he had to ride a big bike, hang out with the boys, drink, and smoke. Because he’s a guy, he was supposed to be a chick magnet. Because he’s a guy, all he did was curse and talk like a street thug. Because he’s a guy, you were expected to always follow and submit to him. The i***t might as well have tattooed ‘#I’mAMan’ on his forehead."

She frowned even more. "Come on, Patrick. I already know all that. I’ve been over him for two years now."

"Have you really moved on? Then why won’t you go on a date?"

"I don’t know. Maybe I was just traumatized by my last relationship. I-I don’t want to go through something like that again, Pat."

Eric was a classic asshole. The only difference, maybe, from other assholes was that he could be sweet when he messed up—so she always ended up forgiving him. Until she finally had enough. She was the one who broke up with him. She forgave Eric the first time he cheated because her father meddled, but the jerk did it again. She wanted to slap herself for giving him a second chance.

"You won't go through something like that again if you choose your next relationship wisely. The problem was you listened to your dad," Pat added.

Her late father was the chief of police in their town and had been close to SPO1 Eric Galvan, who was also Pat’s godbrother. Her father was the one who set her up with Eric. She admitted she had been attracted to the man back then.

Her parents had wanted her to marry Eric, but she refused. She wasn’t sure if she could be the wife of someone who had betrayed her. Her relationship with Eric lasted for over a year. She had been too gullible then, which made it easy for him to manipulate her. Maybe she finally found the courage to end things for good because the father she had always feared was already gone by that time. He had died of a heart attack.

After she broke up with him, Eric still kept trying to win her back. He was so sure she’d come running back to him. Until she decided to leave—to get away from everything; away from her home, from everything familiar. At first, her mother, Odessa, was against it, but in the end, she couldn’t stop her. Ingrid just felt the need to learn how to be independent and become her own person. And if she stayed with her mother, living under the same roof and helping manage their small grocery store in the market, she felt like her father would still be alive—still watching and controlling her life.

Maybe she and Odessa were just different. When her father died, Ingrid felt the need to bury off all the wrong beliefs he had planted in her mind. But her mother still believed in him. The way she moved and spoke, it was as if her father was still alive and lingering around them.

"Pat, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?" Ingrid said firmly, her voice turning hard. "I’ve come so far from that place."

Pat smiled, clearly amused by her sassiness. "Fine."