[~Song Recommendation: Toxic by Britney Spears~]
Her right eyebrow shot up, and she clenched her fist, clearly irritated by what she perceived as another disrespectful remark. One of the staff quickly leaned in and whispered, "Miss Cammy, it's a cocktail made with vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry."
"Oh!" she blurted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized her mistake. "Go order that before the bar closes—hurry," she instructed, and the staff quickly scurried off to carry out her request.
Cammy watched as the staff disappeared into the night and let out a sigh before turning back to face the guest. Surveying the messy room, with beer cans scattered everywhere, she asked, "Sir, would you mind if I tidy up while we wait for your drinks?"
The man smiled and replied, "Actually, I do mind…"
Cammy's jaw dropped in disbelief. All she wanted was to clean up the mess and who in the world would refuse that?
"I mind since I don't want to be responsible if something happens to you."
"Sir? I am only going to pick up a few cans; nothing bad is going to—"
Before she could finish, the man suddenly stood up and closed the distance between them. Cammy's eyes widened in shock as he moved so close that there was barely any space between them. He leaned in near the crook of her neck, and she stood frozen, unsure of how to react.
She felt him pick up a few strands of her hair before taking in the scent of it and said, "You're just as drunk as I am. Bending down to pick up those cans will only make you dizzy—you might hit your head somewhere. I have no intention of dealing with blood in this room tonight unless it's a virgin's blood." He stepped back a bit and made sure Cammy was looking at him before giving her a wink and a smirk.
He then moved away and started picking up the cans himself, Cammy closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing heart. She was getting irritated by his flirtatious words and audacious acts.
She decided to help to make the situation less awkward, she stepped forward, but her heel accidentally landed on a can, causing her ankle to twist as she lost her balance.
Her eyes instantly shut knowing her fate, and accepting the pain that she will soon feel from falling. Just as she braced herself for the impact, two strong arms caught her, saving her from falling onto the glass coffee table.
"Tsk…" Cammy heard the man click his tongue and only then did she open her eyes.
"This is what I meant," the man said, carrying her and quickly moving her to the sofa. He then asked, "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yes, I'm fine, sir," Cammy said feeling relieved and flustered.
"Stop calling me sir. My name is Greg, and I assume yours is Cammy?"
"Y-Yes, sir…"
Before Greg could react further, one of the staff returned with a tray holding the four bottles of vodka, the Sex on the Beach cocktail, and a bucket of ice.
Greg took the tray, confusing the staff who was planning to place it on the table. "You can leave now, and stop bothering me tonight, or I'll have you all sued," Greg ordered, sending the staff away and closing the sliding door that faces the beach.
Cammy felt a sharp pain in her ankle from the fall and didn't notice that Greg had totally closed all the glass sliding doors and curtains. She bent forward to remove the strap of her shoes so she could massage her aching ankle.
Greg suddenly sat down at the table in front of her, lifted her foot onto his lap, and placed a towel-wrapped ice pack on it.
"I told you to stay still. Why are you so stubborn? From the looks of it, you've already had quite a lot of tequila for you to easily trip like that," Greg scolded.
Cammy remained silent as the pain in her ankle was intense enough to overshadow her drunkenness.
"Hold this," Greg said, handing her the cold compress.
She grabbed the cold compress but was startled when he started removing her heels. Instinctively, she pulled her feet back, which only worsened the pain in her ankle and unintentionally caused her dress to slide up, revealing much of her upper legs and what was hidden underneath.
"Ouch… It's alright, sir, I can take off my heels myself!" Cammy exclaimed in abashment.
"Call me sir one more time and I will seal that mouth of yours with mine! Do it again unless you really want me to kiss you, do you want to have a taste of me?"
"What is wrong with you?!" Cammy exclaimed, her irritation growing at his lascivious remarks.
"There's nothing wrong with me. You're the one who said you prioritize the guest's requests. I told you to stay put because you were drunk and couldn't even stand straight. I even said to call me Greg, but did you do any of that?" Greg pointed out.
Cammy realized he was right, at least about her being drunk. "But I'm not drunk anymore..." she muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
He smirked and said, "Really? You're not drunk anymore?"
"Yes! The pain from my ankle sobered me up," she retorted.
He chuckled and pressed lightly on her sprain, making her wince. "Then why are you letting me see your black lace undies? Are you trying to seduce me? I'll be happy to take it off if you will ask me to," Greg teased.
Cammy was mortified to realize he was right. She quickly pulled her dress down, covering her legs and shifting her sprained foot back to the floor.
"I-I'm not trying to seduce you. I was just distracted by the pain. I didn't notice my dress…"
Greg extended his hand towards her, making her hesitate as she wondered what he was up to. "Give me your foot. You need to keep the cold compress on for at least fifteen to thirty minutes, or it'll swell worse tomorrow."
Cammy frowned as she noticed the bruises on his knuckles. It looked fresh and from the looks of it, it seemed like he punched something hard just today, probably a concrete wall.
Ignoring his request, she grabbed a face towel from the table—similar to the one Greg had used earlier to make her ice pack.
She wrapped some ice in it and gently took hold of his hand, pressing the makeshift cold compress against his bruised knuckles. "You're the one who needs a cold compress, sir… I mean, Greg."
"You're no fun, Cammy. Now that you're actually calling me by my name, I've lost my excuse to give you a kiss," Greg quipped with a chuckle, lightening the mood.
"Do you always flirt with hotel and resort staff?" Cammy teased back.
"No, this is the first time. But your sexy dress tells me that you are not part of the workforce here. It's just that when you suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a sullen face made it too tempting to tease you."
"Well, how could I not come over when your voice was so loud? I was heading to the beach to enjoy the sound of the waves and the silence of the night, but all I could hear was you shouting," Cammy remarked, grabbing Greg's left hand and placing it on the ice pack over his bruised right hand.
She then took the cold compress Greg made for her and placed it on her ankle.
Greg moved and sat beside her, handed her the cocktail, and grabbed a bottle of vodka for himself. He then raised his bottle and clinked it against her glass. "Cheers to whatever's behind that sulky face of yours," he said before downing half the bottle in one go.
"Whoa, slow down! Are you really trying to pass out? You should've gone for tequila if that's your plan," Cammy remarked.
"That was the plan before you showed up," Greg responded casually. "I just broke up with my girlfriend after finding out she was cheating on me, thus the demand for the drinks," he added, catching Cammy off guard. They don't know each other but then here he is telling her his problem.
'So that's why he has a bruised hand. He must have been so furious when he found out,' Cammy thought.
She mirrored his gesture, clinking her glass against his bottle. "Cheers to that! Looks like we're in the same boat—I totally understand how you feel, I caught my husband cheating on me too a few days ago." She then removed the straw from her glass and, like Greg, took a long drink, finishing half the cocktail in one go.
"What? You are married? No way! Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?" Greg asked in disbelief.
Cammy leaned back against the sofa with a deep sigh. "I took it off because what he did hurt me so much. I'll be divorcing that bashtard soon, hic!"
Greg laughed and casually grabbed the tall glass from her, finishing its contents in one go.
"Hey! That was mine!" Cammy protested.
"I paid for it, remember? So technically, it's mine. You're obviously drunk. You should head back to your room and get some rest," Greg suggested while eyeing her pout.
'She should leave right now, she's making me think of doing unholy things to her. I don't think I would be able to stop myself if she stays any longer…' Greg thought.