Chapter Two: The Man Behind The Text
I have lost my mind.
I heaved out a heavy sigh as I walked through the double doors of the bar. It was crazy for me to come to the bar, and I convinced myself that it was because I needed a drink and not any other reason.
But that was a blatant lie. I glanced at my phone, reading the text messages for the hundredth time. On my way here I had cracked my brain to figure out who could've been behind it, but no one came to mind.
I worked a tight schedule, taking on four jobs to be able to pay my debt and survive.
In the mornings I worked in a coffee shop, then early afternoons I took a shift as a cleaner in a hospital, in the evenings I was a library attendant, and at night I worked as a waitress in an exotic restaurant.
It was hardly enough time to socialize or make any new friends, and it was the reason I was so dependent on Winifred and John.
Unlike my expectations, John hadn't reached out to me, and I hated the fact that I was disappointed that he didn't. It would've consoled me a bit if he tried, not that I was going to accept him, but it would make me feel like less than a fool.
Now I sat in a secluded corner of the bar, watching the door to see if anyone I recognized would come in.
I had a few drinks, but thirty minutes passed and I saw no one.
This was stupid, and I was even more stupid for thinking I could achieve something by following a simple text from God knows who. But why would the person bother to invite me if they were going to stand me up?
I considered leaving, but at the same time, I didn't want to stay home alone. That apartment held too many painful memories. My wounds were still fresh, and staying there was like adding salt to them. So I was set on getting myself drunk enough to forget about what happened altogether, but I couldn't shake off the curiosity that ate me up.
Was it someone I knew? An enemy of John or Winifred? It was hard to wrap my head around it. The person had not only sent the video, but they had also given me directions to the hotel and the room. It was strange, too strange for a normal person.
The night dragged on, and I was already tipsy from the number of drinks I had. I was about to give up and leave when the door swung open, revealing a tall man. He exuded an air of grace as he walked in, and his large frame seemed to envelop the whole space, making it impossible to ignore his presence.
He scanned the room, his gaze locking onto mine for a split second before moving on. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, and at that moment, I could only see him.
I snapped back to reality as he made his way to the bar, ordering a drink before turning to face the room again. For some reason I suddenly felt on the edge, keeping my gaze trained on my drink.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect as I felt his unwavering stare. I glanced at him to see if he was truly looking at me, but he was already making his way towards me.
"Mind if I join you?" He politely asked, his tone carrying a hint of amusement, or was that just my imagination?
His voice was deep yet soothing and I forced myself to relax, responding with a stiff nod. "Not at all," I answered, reaching for my drink to play it off.
The man sat down across from me, and my gaze lingered on his face a little too long, mesmerized by his appearance. His raven black air was pulled into a nest low bun, leaving a few strands to frame his well-structured jaw. His eyes were a unique blend of colors, with one a light shade of brown, and the other a striking blue.
"I'm glad you could make it." He started, snapping me from my daze.
I cursed under my breath for ogling at him, but then my head snapped up as I registered his statement.
My eyes rounded in realization. This was him. The man behind the mysterious text.
His reaction to my surprise was his lips spreading into a knowing smile. "I didn't think you would come."
I raised a brow, sitting up in caution as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you the one who sent me the text message?"
He took his time before answering, using it to take a sip of his drink. "Yes, I am." He admitted, setting his cup down.
It didn't make sense, because this was the first time I'm seeing this man. He also didn't look like someone John would know. From the way he was dressed in designer clothes, he was a wealthy man, making it even more confusing.
"Who are you?" I dared to ask, trying my best to keep my voice steady.
The man's smile grew wider, his eyes glimmering with amusement.
"You don't remember?"
"Remember?" I blurt out. "Remember what?"
The mysterious man regarded me in silence. He propped an elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm as he stared at me with keen interest.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my cheeks involuntarily heating up. The air in the room suddenly got thicker, making it hard to breathe.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or rather the intimidating aura that circled him.
Then after much deliberation, he finally spoke.
"I'm hurt you don't remember me, especially when you were all I could think about for the past few weeks."