RUNAWAY LOVER

MORNING BEFORE MIDNIGHT

I strolled into Barb's Grill and Resto, opting for my regular salad. As I indulged in the leafy goodness, I took a casual walk around the restaurant, inspecting each table. It was a fleeting moment of observation that could mistakenly brand me as a nosy or even a tipsy patron.

Returning to the countertop, I engaged in conversation with Derick, striking up a discussion about our plans leading up to midnight.

"Hey D, what's your agenda before the clock strikes twelve?" I inquired.

"I'll probably manage the store until 10 PM, ensuring everything's in order for the event," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"How about I lend a hand? You know I've got nothing else going on in my life," I suggested.

"Sure, why not," he agreed, paving the way for our collaboration.

Fast forward to 8:00 A.M the next day, the usual hustle and bustle of the morning in the restaurant was notably absent. Given the anticipation of New Year's Eve, the establishment, typically teeming with patrons and enveloped in smoke from the grills, witnessed an exception. Despite its capacity to host over 300 people, today there were well over 500 eager individuals.

As the clock ticked to 12:50 P.M, the afternoon seemed to stretch longer than its predecessor. The clientele gradually dwindled, transforming the lively atmosphere from a bustling noon with over 500 customers to a more subdued setting, with a mere hundred or less remaining. It was a perceptible shift, though entirely understandable, given the impending evening festivities.

Come 5:30 PM, the sun dipped below the horizon. In my role, I assumed responsibility for chair cleanup, while Devin busied himself closing the shop's roller. Opting for an early closure at 5:30 PM instead of the usual 10 PM, Devin expressed his desire to spend quality time with his girlfriend before heading to the party.

Later, when the last chair was flipped, I directed my attention back to Derick, inquiring about his plans for the evening.

"Hey D, what's the plan?" I queried while securing the last of the chairs to the tables.

"I want to make it up to my girlfriend; that's why we're closing early. I'll come pick you up at your apartment. What's the address again?" he asked, springing lightly to the last roller.

Describing Devin as a towering figure with biceps sculpted from regular gym visits, this 6-footer boasted a physique akin to a skyscraper, complemented by his brown hair. A perfect blend of brawn and business acumen, he was undeniably an appealing figure.

Despite being just an inch taller than him, the contrast between us extends beyond mere height. While I focus on cultivating abs, he leans towards the development of biceps, emphasizing his masculine physique. In terms of appearance, his features exude a more rugged masculinity, whereas mine carry a softer, more feminine touch.

"320 D Street, West View BSquare Apartments, 3rd Floor, Room 41. You've asked this countless times, and yet you still manage to forget," he grinned in response to my remark.

"Good looks, bad memory, D," he playfully winked at me.

Despite his self-assured demeanor, I couldn't help but perceive him as a bit of a show-off. If it weren't for his striking looks, I might have deemed him a stranger.

"Well, job's done! I'll be on my way, D. I still need to make a pit stop at Starbucks; I have a feeling I'll be requiring more caffeine for tonight," I declared, not lingering for his response, and swiftly hopped into my Jeep Wrangler.

Fast forward to 6:00 P.M, prior to my Starbucks detour, I made a quick visit to the gas station to refuel. Upon reaching the parking lot, a familiar face caught my attention – the same young woman from yesterday. With her distinctive ginger hair and consistently impeccable outfits, she was unmistakable. Standing at an estimated 5 foot 5, she bore a striking resemblance to someone from my past, though articulating the connection eluded me.

"Hey! What's your name again? Uhm," I snapped my fingers, glancing to the side as I tried to recall her name.

Turning around to face me, she flashed her customary smile. "Dana," she pronounced, with a melodious lilt.

"Hey, nice to see you here. I didn't mention my name earlier; that's probably why you can't recall it," she remarked, her infectious smile reflecting in my own.

She was undeniably beautiful, and as I struggled to contain my smile, a sense of familiarity lingered in the air.

My mind had wandered into a realm of contemplation, and it took a moment for her words to pull me back to reality.

"Hey! Hey!, you there?" she called out, maintaining her infectious smile.

"Yeah," I responded, starting a silent countdown in my head.

"Uhm," she hesitated, marking four.

"I-" Three.

"I need to go" Two.

For a brief moment, I struggled to compose myself, attempting to suppress the flood of memories associated with her.

One.

"Hey-" I abruptly cut her off, closing the car door and briskly walking past her. It might have been perceived as disrespectful, but I had to distance myself before the haunting memories of Emily engulfed me once again.

Fast forward to the present, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, exacerbated by the unhelpful air conditioning. She sat just across the room, occasionally stealing glances, probably wondering about the abrupt departure during those crucial 5 seconds of interaction. It was a nerve-wracking experience, and now, seeking solace, I found myself attempting to cool down with my favorite duo of chai latte and biscotti.

As the sunset cast its final hues, the cafe's ambiance became increasingly serene. In my opinion, Boston boasted the most charming cafes, whether franchise or independent. Gazing across the room, I noticed her sitting alone, and a pang of guilt washed over me for storming off earlier.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to take action. Standing up, I made my way toward her, estimating the impending journey to be approximately 20 steps. The first five steps marked the beginning of my approach.

15 steps followed, each carrying me closer to her solitude.

10 steps, the anticipation building with every stride.

Finally, after 5 steps, I found myself just a few strides away from her. Coming to a halt, I hesitated momentarily before gathering the courage to continue.

"Hey, I'm sorry I stormed off a while ago. Some memories were flashing back to me, and, you know, I kind of blacked out," I confessed, meeting her gaze. Her lack of a smile lent an air of intimidation to the moment.

Her smile finally graced her lips, and she reassured me, "Don't worry, I was actually worried about you. You don't have to worry about anything." A reciprocal smile adorned my face as we exchanged glances. The allure of her eyes threatened to pull me into another realm, a sensation I was familiar with.

Breaking eye contact, she clapped her hands once, snapping me back to the present. "So! How's it going now? Are you ready for tonight's event?" A momentary lapse in my composure occurred before I managed to recover.

"Huh? Ah, yeah, about that, I need to get going. I need to prepare some things for tonight," I explained, gesturing toward the entrance, which also served as the exit.

"Sure, see you tonight!" she cheerfully replied.

Smiling in acknowledgment, I left the cafe and headed straight to my apartment.

---

At 8:00 PM, dinner consisted of bacon, an unconventional choice for the evening meal but dictated by the contents of my fridge. I rarely ate in my apartment, reserving it solely for breakfast. It felt as if I weren't truly living there, given my frequent outings.

Earlier, I had called Dana using the number she provided at the cafe. Seeking guidance on the dress code for the impending fancy event, she clarified that casual attire would suffice for the intimate gathering of 20 guests. This revelation prompted me to set aside the tuxedo I initially contemplated wearing. Despite the frustration building within me, a moment in my closet managed to bring a smile to my face—seeing the clothes I wore on our first date.

By 10:00 PM, I texted Devin to confirm my readiness. As anticipated, he replied, mentioning he was already at the apartment but too lazy to ascend the stairs. I had dressed in a simple ensemble—a dirty white men's trouser, a navy blue polo, and white shoes. Completing the look, I adorned my wrist with a watch featuring a black strap and white insides, ensuring I struck a balance between looking presentable and avoiding the extremes of shabbiness or overdressing.

........

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A text conversation unfolded with Devin:

Devin: Dude, you change longer than my girlfriend. Are you coming or not?"

Derrick: Wait. Going down.

Derrick: Be there in a minute.

Devin: You slow jerk.

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Feeling the conversation was leading nowhere, I decided to end it. Opting for the elevator instead of the stairs, I considered the potential sweat-inducing climb and the undesirable prospect of attending an event with such an aroma.

Checking my phone, I noted the time was 10:20 PM. Outside, Devin's car was parked directly at the entrance.

"Dudee! Is this yours? When did you get this?" I exclaimed.

He started the engine, complaining, "What took you so long?" and seemingly ignoring my remark.

"It's the 2022 BMW Sedan, right? Damn Dude," I gestured with a mind-blowing expression, but he remained unimpressed.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I just had to make sure nothing's lacking," I said, playfully bumping his biceps with my fist.

Silently, he started driving towards the venue, instructing me to check our destination.

"Sure, uhh, it says here 1 Franklin St, Boston, MA 02110, Millenium Tower. Woah, woah. That's 2 kilometers away. Here goes nothing."

Anticipating a long night ahead, the evening before midnight took us to Boston's most luxurious penthouse—the tallest and most popular among them all. Expressing my awe, I marveled at the accuracy of everyone's reviews about the building's impeccable construction. From the outside, the attention to detail, from the largest displays to the smallest elements, was readily apparent.