Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

74 The Persuasion and Neither of It

Cora attempted to bite her lips, but she withdrew from doing so when she felt her lipstick's cracked texture. Drawing a sharp breath, her heeled shoes began making its way toward Fitch. The action made Fitch stiff on his seat. The sun was almost setting, the people around them bewildered as to what was happening between the two of them.

“Why are you even here?” Cora asked in a whisper, the blush apparent on her cheeks. The color deepened as her hands balled into fists, “I hate to ask this a second time, but I would like you to leave.” She uttered it slowly, her eyes held a glisten that reflected Fitch’s confused expression. Fitch thinks as if Fitch wasn’t able to comprehend her words. She stressed the need to not see him, and he felt an immense weight bore him down.

Fitch had his palms pressed on his lap, “I don’t mean any ill intentions,” he held her gaze, and he stated the best way he can. He wanted her to feel that he was sincere in his words. “Would you grant me some of your time?” he asked again. He was taking any chance he can take, but he’s grasping at it with respect. He didn’t want her to feel as if he was forcing himself to her. He just wants to Cora to instill in her mind that he wasn’t the least bit playful about the entire situation.

“Why…?” Cora halted. She stopped near an empty cubicle.

Although it was time to head home, the people inside the room stayed for the unfolding drama in front of them. Fitch wanted to ignore their presence, but the heads that popped out of their confined walls made Cora quiver.

When they first met each other, the woman was basically the reincarnation of a stone; she seemed unfazed, and her spirit isn't diminished quickly by such encounters. But now that she stood in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips shaking, and the pool of tears threatening to glide down on her cheeks, his mind ceased its operation. He couldn't think. All he had ever looked at was the embarrassment plastered on her face. For the past week that they have not seen each other, what had happened? Did his and Noah's case had an effect on her performance at work? Was she mocked? Did her seniors belittle her? Fitch had these questions running on a marathon in his mind.

It must have shown in the way he avoided his eyes. Cora took a step backward when Fitch didn’t look back at her. The woman he adored was a soldier that knew when to retreat. For that, Fitch admired her even more, and his respect for her grew.

He had come to a decision.

With swift movements, he stood and grabbed at Cora’s hand.

“What—” he expected much. She was protesting when he dragged her away within the vicinity of the curious onlookers inside her workplace. Cora insisted that he let go of her hand, but Fitch didn’t falter. He kept pulling her behind the building.

When they are finally hidden, he faced Cora, a line of sweat appeared on his forehead. He immediately let go of Cora’s hand.

The woman took back her hand, her free hand wrapped around her other hand’s wrist. The blush on her face deepened despite the shadow of the building looming over them.

Fitch ran a hand through his hair as he turned to look at her, “I’m sorry,” the sincerity of his tone made Cora c**k her head to the side.

“Why did you drag me here?” she asked, her expression changing from shock to neutrality. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, the quivering already gone.

Adjust his angle, Fitch managed to face her fully, "I didn't want other people looking at you like you were some kind of criminal." He uttered those words without breaking her eye contact. Fitch marveled in the richness of her irises' color. He was awed at how it circled around her pupils, accentuating her face's overall look.

Cora didn’t budge, “Why?” the questioned hovered in the air, and she looked like the type of person that didn’t back down from an argument. “Why did you have to do that?”

This is it. It’s what Fitch had pondered day and night for the past days. It was the question that lingered in his mind that even the people closest to him thinks that he was leaning into absurdity. It was somewhat between his fear and hope, and he never thought that answering her would mean it could either make or break what he had hoped.

Moistening his dry throat, Fitch swallowed the saliva stuck in his mouth. On the other hand, Cora crossed her arms over her full chest.

“Well?” she raised one eyebrow, the tears already dried at the ends of her eyes. “I do deserve the reason to know why you’re doing this.”

“I agree,” Fitch spoke low that no one seemed to have caught what he had stated.

Cora nodded her head, “Tell me,” she demanded. The answer was one she would regret—Fitch was sure of it. But the tiny hope in his heart grew like a flower ready to blossom when spring arrives.

“I would like to ask you,” he cut the sentence that way, his heart quickening, “if you would like to have dinner with me, that is.”

Silence.

Time must have moved its hands several times already, but silence won this war. The silence made the thing between them worth the wait.

Cora’s mouth opened, but no sound came out from it. She closed it several times, but when Fitch finally thought she was saying something about his question, Cora would, again, press her lips in a thin line.

Leaning his shoulder on the wall, Fitch awaited her answer, “I’m willing to wait,” he announced. He was serious about her, after all.

A strand of hair fell in front of Cora's nose. The chilly breeze caressed her face, and she had to hold the pile of hair on her head so that it wouldn't cover her eyes. The blush deepened once more, and Fitch watched her from a safe distance. She felt conscious of how she looked, her head bowing as her eyes lingered on the grass beneath their feet.

“I’m—I—”

Waving his hands, Fitch came closer, “It’s okay.”

Cora lifted her gaze, “No, I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

“You can think about it some more.”

“Let me just get this straight,” she groaned and had one hand on her forehead, “you’re telling me that you’re asking me out for dinner, am I right?” she whipped her head toward Fitch, “right?” she repeated with haste.

Nodding slowly, Fitch smiled, “Yes. That’s what I said.”

“But why? I know I have asked alot of questions, but I just couldn’t understand why you’re doing this, let alone to me. Have I done something wrong to you again? If you’re wondering if we have filed a case, please know we—”

“That’s enough,” Fitch cut her off, “I went here and asked you out personally because I thought you were…” he trailed off, the redness engulfing the skin on his entire ear, “…charming.” He complimented her quietly. Whether she heard it or not, Fitch knew to himself that he was telling the truth. The woman's strength made him want to see her again. On the third day he stayed at Noah's ranch, he realized that he needed to get to know her better, and perhaps it will prove how much more significant as a human being she is. Fitch disregarded even the fact that she was someone who had almost made him and Noah got behind the bars. That's where he thanks for Joanna—for barging into the picture like a real champ.

“Charming?” Cora said, breathless. “God, please tell me you’re joking.”

“What if I’m not?”

“It sounds like one.”

Placing his hands inside his side jean’s pockets, Fitch sighed, “I knew that. That’s why I personally went here and tried asking you out. Doing it on the Internet feels as if I’m showing you that I don’t have the courage to say it in your face.”

Her thick, but shaped eyebrows were raised, “What exactly are you implying?”

Although her question can be regarded as someone who doesn’t know the bigger picture, Fitch knew that Cora was affirming his intentions. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was trained as a professional in the field of law that she's able to hone her face in neutrality most of the time. But something spoke from within Fitch who knew that Cora already knew the answer to her question, but she wanted to play this at the ice tip. She tried to confirm things before.

Fitch stood straight. He mustered the best open face he had, his brows relaxed as he said, "I want to ask you out. And that means all the things you had in mind.”

Gathering her hair on one side, Cora had her jaw tense. Fitch's idea was forming an interest in her seemed as if it wasn't her cup of tea. Her face remained the same as the minutes went by.

The agony grew like a plant, and Fitch no longer knew how tall it had grown. He kept his figure straight as he didn’t want to appear as if he wasn’t determined enough to pursue her. Fitch made up his mind yesterday that he wanted to get to know Cora, but he would leave her alone if she wasn't into it. Despite that, the ache in his chest told him that he wants to continue pursuing the woman even if she would reject the idea. Fitch knew it was wrong, but he would respect her decisions and not let his emotions get through his actions. So, if worse comes to worst, he's confident he would leave her alone even though he very much wanted to continue head-on.

You can’t see it, but the wind made clear of its presence. Fitch felt the way it caressed his cheeks. He assumed Cora must have acknowledged it, for she motioned her hands up and down her arms to produce heat. The woman looked below aimlessly. She hadn't lifted her head for minutes now. Fitch had no idea whether she was contemplating or simply curating a word that couldn't hurt him or appear so much as a rejection.

Sighing, Fitch reached the peak of his patience.

With quick steps, he strides toward her, the uneasiness crippling his legs. Standing before her, his shadow mixed with hers, “I’m sorry. This must have been unbelievable. Please take your time in thinking about this.”

Once he pressed his lips together, Cora slowly lifted her head. Their eyes met, and Fitch’s heart constricted. He hastily removed his brown coat. He didn’t wait for her permission as he angled his hand behind her, careful so as not to touch her, and draped the coat on her back.

Fitch took a step backward in her appearance with his coat on: it was considerably bigger—perhaps even a bit long for Cora's height.

Her free hand touched the material on her back, her eyes wide with wonder. It was an emotion Fitch couldn’t forget for the rest of his life.

Tilting her head to the side, Cora’s face softened. Gone were the neutrality that made her look tough on the outside. It was a new side of her Fitch didn’t expect to see this early in their budding relationship—platonic or whatnot, Fitch was grateful to have beheld it. He was falling deeper in the pit, and how he wished she would reject him as soon as soon as she realized she isn't the least bit interested in forming a bond with him.

The blush returned—and this time, they both had it on their faces. Fitch had his nose and ear reddening, and he murmured something along the lines that it was probably due to the weather. Cora let her hair slid all over her face in an attempt to hide the blush that made her cheeks bright.

“I’m not good with this,” she began, “and I’m not someone who frequently date.” She lifted her gaze and straight right through Fitch’s soulful eyes, “but let me think about it. I can’t promise you anything. I might be unmoved on your following attempts, but please know that I’m trying…” she trailed off.

Fitch couldn’t talk. He was neither rejected nor accepted. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think—he didn’t know how things will progress from now on. Still, he gave a faint nod.

“I understand,” he said in a low voice, “take your time.”

With that, Cora smiled, the sun hitting her back, “I will.”