The Attraction Of David

Chapter 11

I remained silent as Stan drove beside me.

Vacuously, I stared out of the window. I observed the road, not perceiving what emotion I should first nitpick in my character. I didn't know where we were going or where we were headed to. All I recognized was that he was driving fast, and a couple of minutes inside his car seemed like an eternity as thoughts frolic in my head.

Not just my thoughts, but likewise the emotions were stirred up, fused into something I have never felt before. The feelings that made me anxious, sad, excited, and curious, were all concocted into one hell of an emotion, permeating uncontrollably and promptly all over my body.

I should name that emotion 'unplanned' as it changed every time my curiosity, excitement, worry, and sadness would collide.

I knew I wanted to say I was interested in him, that I wanted him, but I was reluctant, I was dubious. It was merely a week past since I've first seen the guy who was driving beside me, for me to feel this way about him. I knew that, and yet I was here, rash, assigning him to have the rule of the situation.

I am beside him. If only my thoughts were loud enough for him to hear, I knew he would be branding me as someone deranged.

He knew where this was headed to, as this might have been just a route that he always passed by, while I was down here, alienated and so unsure where all of this would go. It felt like I was traveling a road so unknown to me that I may be lost if I was not careful enough.

As that thought went by without a warning, it made me skeptical if I knew myself, for me to try and figure out if it was even worth it to know him.

"Sleepy?" Stan asked, popping the impending silence in the car. "Thinking of something? You looked worried." He might have caught a glimpse of my face when he asked.

"No," my hand gripped hard on the jacket I was holding. "Where are we going?" I asked, mustering enough grit to know. I knew I should've thrown the word precaution out of the picture right now.

"At the seafront," he snickered. "Where do you think we're going? Impatient much?"

When I glanced at him, his face looked so elated, like he was pleased, while I was here, skittish and at the brink of crying, stressed out as I tried to figure out my emotions for him and what was going in his brain as he drove.

"At least give me a damn info, Stan."

He chortled. "Hey, are you okay? Have you drunk too much?"

I despised what he did. God, if he only knew how much I loathed it when he held that small laugh in his beautiful mouth. I did not answer, but I turned my gaze into his way. I never noticed that a basic button-down shirt would look as good as it did on him. The rumpled sides of his clothes and the way he folded the sleeves looked utterly good, I cannot lie.

"I guess," an exhale came out of me. God, why was I suddenly so pissed off?

"Want me to play some music?" he asked, the hard muscles of his body moving with each action on the steering wheel and stick shift.

I turned around, feeling god awful that I was eyeballing him again. I could only think of s*x when I stare at his body, and he was not even naked.

"No, I'm okay." It made the vexed-up me look back to the side, staring outside the window of the car.

"We're almost there," he said.

Although the shortage of lights from outside partly obscured the view, I could see that we were nearing the bay of the city.

"And, we're here," Stan halted at one of the parking spots just at the side of the bay view, stopping the engine of the car. He grabbed the cardboard rack of beer he brought from the pub and walked out of the passenger seat.

I slid out of the car and clutched my jeans jacket, looking at the deserted coast in front of us as I pushed the door close. It revealed to me that at this time of the day, there were few people. This was an area I always envisioned privacy as nothing but a word. Normally, even this spot in the city was buzzing with life. Maybe it was because it was a Tuesday evening and people were already in the comfort of their beds.

We went forward. Thankfully, I carried the jacket as the air was chilly around the area of the part he preferred for us to lounge at. We chose, or better say decided where we should sit. I'd never frequent this area in the city, so I never really knew where the best spot was. Not that we could look at anything since it was almost so dark that the view was obscured, so his choice was viable.

"I can't think of any other place we should be at this time of the day." Stan grabbed two beers from the cardboard rack. "Hope you're fine with it not being cold anymore."

I saw him open the first bottle using the other one's metal cap, then he opened the other using the rim of the opened bottle. When he handed the drink to me, I took a swig right away, neglecting the starchy, lukewarm taste of the liquor against my tongue, down to my throat. God, it was horrible, but I digressed.

"Jesus fuck." He blurted, voicing my thoughts out when he had a gulp from the bottle. "This tastes like piss."

I laughed at him. "Never knew you were into that kind of kink." I teased as I recall him doing a kinky playback in the pub, fondling my c**k like it was nothing. "You're really something else."

"And now you're making fun of me at the expense of the lukewarm beer? You're ruthless."

I wore my jacket as goosebumps because of the wind started blossoming on my skin. All the questions I shoved in the back of my mind all came back, right then and here. The atmosphere seemed like the ideal kind. Somewhere obscured. I didn't even know if he was comfortable with the situation, so I thought about leading with something that could assure me.

"Why are we here?" I inquired, drying the condensation off the bottle I was holding on the fabric of my jeans.

"You said we needed to talk, remember? Or have you forgotten about it already because you were so into your friend?"

I rolled my eyes, not because it pissed me, but because that accusation was rubbish. "You've got to be joking."

If he only knew how absurd he sounded. If he only knew how the woman I was working with for two years, the one I have always liked, the one whom I see almost every day of my life, suddenly became nothing, but someone I knew. If he only knew how thoughts of him rotated in my head, like he was some sort of axis that I was compelled to oblige on, he might've already guffawed at the absurdity of it.

The area was not even lit brightly for his face to look so visible, but it felt like I was a deer in the headlights when his eyes met mine. It was as if I was a moth that was drawn to the fire, ahead of itself, taken over by the curiosity as the beauty of the lick of the flame danced around enticingly.

I was so curious about him, attracted by him. It was as if those pair of brown eyes were magnetic orbs, pulling me in, forcing me to leave behind the burden of overthinking. It was mystifying, exhilarating.

Stan just stared back at me, and I wondered if he was as curious as I was. And as the seconds achingly stretched into a minute, God knew how much I wished that he was. It felt so wrong to hope that the feeling of attraction I had was in line with what he was feeling, but I did. I hoped for it, even though it was terrifying.

"If only you knew how much I thought about you, you possibly would've laughed at me." I resigned from staring at him and peered at the darkness of the sea ahead of us.

"So, you always thought about me for the entire week?" he queried. "That was weird. Then what made you leave my bed without a warning? Why did you take your time replying to my messages?

"Because it scared me. Liking someone like you seemed like a thing only delusional people would do. I easily get attached, and I f*****g hate it that you made me feel that way."

"Stop beating around the bush, David. If you were scared, then why did you call? Why were we here?" he asked again like this was some sort of interrogation. "A scared person would not get near the source of what terrifies him."

I liked that we were in the direction where I wanted for us to head. "Because I was not sure if I really should be terrified, I mean I don't even know you."

"So, what would help you figure out if you should be, or shouldn't be?" Stan arched an eyebrow when he had tossed the question at me.

"Why don't you tell me then." I had to gulp the beer. My throat was parched. My hand against the sandy gravel was shuddering. I was uneasy, but I stared up at his face as I'd stuck around for his answer.

"I don't know, why don't you? Can't you?" He smugly smiled, his lips against the rim of the bottle he was holding. The breeze that was touching his face made his hair sway, and it looked inexplicably picturesque.

His face was distracting enough that I didn't know what I should reply. Maybe it was safe to move this conversation further?

"Why don't you then, since you've opened it up anyway?" I looked up at the sky and took a swig from the bottle of beer I was so desperately holding for support since earlier. I didn't want to sound like I was head over heels for him.

"David, c'mon. It's like we have not made it past the phase where I'm merely just a booty call." The words came out flippantly.

"It's more than that, right?"

Fuck my life right now.

I didn't know if it resonated like an undecided answer or a vague question. It sounded like the words were torn between two meanings. We have started with nothing. I paid him, he f****d me real good, and that should've ended with a dot right then and there. And then we talked over the phone, we dined together. Heck, we even smoked together. God, I don't even know what I should think about.

"Friends. Good friends, I guess? Should that be okay?" he tossed at me.

Burdened by the questions that he wanted for me to answer, I grumbled, "Friends don't f**k each other."

That made him look at me, the kind that looked utterly amused. He was enjoying the fact that I was unsure of what we were. I mean, I didn't even know it, too. And, what? It was not like I could say we were lovers, that stupid idea sounded so funny.

"I know you like me, why don't you tell me? Was it so hard? It's not like I haven't heard you say it before. While we were having s*x, on the phone, at the pub... so, why can't you, here, where I can clearly hear? Where we see each other and we're not preoccupied?"

"Fine. You look really, really good. Like magazine f*****g kind of gorgeous. I can't understand, but you make me lose control. I want to get to know you, I am attracted. Would that be okay?"

I might've gabbled my words out. I was happy that the beer was helping my nerves get a grip on this. With this. With him.

He grinned. I didn't know what the f**k he was thinking about, but he laughed. He f*****g laughed at my admission, that it made me turn my head away, the suddenness of his action, raking through my heart.

"Oh, David. Unbelievable. See? It was not so hard."

"Now you're f*****g laughing at me. I expected that, I got ahead of myself. I knew it, this was foolish to you," I angrily spatted out.

On the verge of my sudden emotional outburst, his hand lapped on top of mine. The coolness of the asphalt against my palm was nothing with how warm his skin was. The breeze was carrying the fragrance of his cologne up my nostrils, and it was blurring my coherence.

I waited for him to say something. The pause that had happened lasted like forever, the seconds, like each of them, stretched into aching hours. I couldn't say anything.

"It's hard to commit to people you've found online, you know. It's a vicious place. It really is," he said. "So I don't understand why you have allowed yourself to fall for someone like me, David. The craziest people are the pretty ones, I suppose."

I looked at him. "Is that for me, or you? I can say the same. No s**t, when you said I look really good, it's hard to believe, Stan. Look at you, do you even know what you look like?" I admonished.

He'd got to be half-joking and half-drunk, or drunk and full-on toying at this point. In no way do I look like the words he had told me.

With a smile on his face, he continued soothing my knuckle. "You thought I laughed because you said what you're feeling?"

"Yes... yes, I thought you did." I calmed myself down as I'd waited for a follow-up.

"Have you hooked up with someone after you did it with me?" he asked. His expression was unreadable.

I shook my head and smirked, "no, I did not."

"I did," he declared. "I tried figuring it out if it was just your face or the way you f*****g moaned while we're at it, but it was not it. It was like when you said how you envision yourself falling in love with different people every day, it flipped a switch within me. Like... why? What the f**k is wrong with you? I thought, wow, this silly, good-looking fucker, not being bedded on a regular?"

"You still could recall that?" I questioned, amused. "How many bottles have you had already anyway?" I asked, fending off his statement.

"I f*****g do, every single day. And I think of you, too. I remember you, David, every single day after that."

I wanted to consider that he was only drunk, that he had more than what he could handle, that it was just the alcohol shrouding him in confusion, causing him to utter those words.

He was too good to be true, and most notably, it was tough to take what he declared, and it would pain me in the end if what he said was just uttered out of intoxication. He was a walking disaster that my heart won't be able to handle if this was simply just a drunken episode of his. I cannot let myself dwell in too much. He would be too much.

I wished I wouldn't dwell, I really did. But his scent was something else, the kind that was enough to make me believe the words he said.

I didn't dare to say anything after that. This was enthralling, dangerous, and scary. I was ecstatic, yet daunted. It made me picture myself riding on a roller coaster with no seatbelt on. It was a rush. All I could muster was stroke his fingertips with my thumb. He led our hands up, and it caused my gaze to meet with his.

"Won't you say anything?" He sought and later kissed my knuckle. His breathing felt like cinders, like a flow of fire that shifted into jolts of electricity when it traveled up to my spine. My face felt heated, everywhere in my body felt heated.

"I... wow," I bit my lip. "Are you drunk?

"Drunk?" he rolled his eyes. "You see, there are better questions, such as, why did you hook up with me? Yes, I knew I asked that before, but I seemed to forget your answer."

"You're, uh... really handsome, and I was, you see, lonely and stressed out, I think?" I responded, settling down from the event he had made me endure just a couple of minutes ago. "That's why I was... willing to pay you."

"Oh, and I remember, I could've not taken your payment if you did not leave it on top of the table," he explained. "I don't need money, you know. Well, I mean I need it, but not to the extent of having it given to me in exchange for something. I've planned to use that amount to buy a gift for my mom."

"Sorry, what do you mean by that?" I asked, perplexed.

"I don't get paid for s*x, David. Seriously, have you not even planned on asking me that?"

I knew the look on my face screamed incredulous. "Wait, what?" I frowned.

"You see, I wanted to buy her a gift, for her birthday. It was last week. I thought to myself, why not get paid while I enjoy it? It was supposed to be a joke, but you took the bait. I was supposed to tell you that it was fine, but then you left while I was in the shower."

Insane.

"So, you're not a paid escort?" He must be lying. I wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with what he's doing. If that was his sustenance, and if the income was decent, then who was I to judge? "You've got to be lying, Stan."

"Er, no? I am not lying. I'm a businessman. I handle our family's business. And we also have multiple rental properties here in Manila," he asserted. "Have you not been paying attention to what I was saying while we're at the pub?"

I stared at him incredulously. "No way, you don't have to make up a story about it, and whatever you do, or what you are, I won't judge."

He laughed, entertained. "Seriously though, I wasn't! Look me in the eyes and tell me if I look like I was lying."

Those brown eyes and long lashes. God, he's beautiful. Impeccably virile and good-looking. No wonder I took the bait, he's irresistibly handsome.

"Definitely lying. Look, if you were trying to charm your way out of this conversation, then you're doing good. That face is distracting enough."

He's absolutely not lying... that f*****g perfect face can't possibly lie.

"Am I? Distracting enough to convince you, am I?" He slyly grinned, showing his perfect set of teeth. "Carry on, then. But believe me when I say that my work ain't what you thought it was. That was just a matter I made out of ingenuity."

"f*****g unbelievable," I sighed and shook my head.

I was... surprisingly glad that he was not. On the other hand, I will also wouldn't be so surprised if he was a male escort. He could rake in a good amount of pay with that kind of body and face.

He looked at me for a bit. His eyes shown signs of inebriation. He must have been tired from today's turn of events.

"Do you always use that app to find someone to hook up with?"

I shook my head. "Not really," I answered, a small chuckle leaving my throat. "I also could say you're the third guy I've ever been with. I don't sleep around anyone I just met or talked with. I'd rather the conversation than anything, truth be told."

"But you did it with me, right away?" he asked, an impish grin spreading across his face. "Did you like it? I mean, the photos I have sent you?"

"Hell yeah," I laughed and looked at him. He looked proud of what I had said. "I thought at first that you were faking everything, like, okay, maybe you were a scam? You looked too good, it felt like you were a catfish. I knew better than not getting catfished, worse, get scammed, you know?"

"David, same sentiments here. You were too good-looking it felt like you were a catfish."

Was I that attractive? I knew he was just inflating my ego. But he surely knew damn well how to stir me up, he was good at it, and I liked it, I wouldn't deny. I liked that he found me attractive, that's all I blindly cared about.

I wish I could say more to him, but he probably have heard that he's impeccable a thousand times already. I stared straight at the horizon, letting the silence take over me, us. The complacency I was feeling as he stroked my knuckle with his thumb was enough. I felt complete at that moment.

Only one thing ran in my mind when I stared back at him as he drank his beer with his eyes focused on the darkness that was ahead of us. It was him. I could only think of him.

Nothing else.

"There's no one around here, David," Stan said, making my gaze turn to his direction. " So I'm not scared of being seen with you, touching you," he took another swig and afterward brought the bottle down to his side.

I didn't know what he should be scared about. I was not scared of a damned thing anyone would hurl at us. There was nothing wrong with what we were doing, so why would they even bother?

"Why would you be?" I took a swig, finishing the first bottle he opened for me. "Why would they care?"

He looked at me. The smile that he had from before was no longer on his beautiful face. Under the obscured, starless sky, I have hoped that I could ask him what he was thinking about. But I did not. I chose not to press on as his thumb brushed ceaselessly against my skin.

"I like you, Stan," I muttered.

"Is this the part where I should say I like you, too?" a chuckle came out of him when he whispered. "Because if it is, then okay, I like you, too."