She
was fresh off the boat. Her head cocks to the side a little to get a better
view at the gorgeous creature sitting in the corner of the bistro. Chandeliers
hung gracefully above their heads. The atmosphere was fairly silent except for
the constant clinking of utensils and mumbles from other diners.
“So,
what’s your first move to do in London?” her friend snapped her out of her
gaze.
“Oh.
Um. I guess… Just finish unpacking,” she shrugs.
Her
friend’s sleek ebony hair shone underneath the gleaming lights while she sipped
on a glass of red wine. Everything was so fancy. For someone who’s freshly
graduated, her friend has tons of money to splurge on.
“Screw
unpacking!” her other friend said with her hands thrown in the air. “The first
few nights in London aren’t all about unpacking. You can do all of that later!”
“She’s
right, Sharon,” her ebony haired friend spoke out. “You need fun. We didn’t go
through a course in designing just to unpack and start doing work right away.”
Sharon’s
eyes fixated back to the man down the aisle, sitting next to the window. His
silky brown hair was weaved into a stylish up-do. Streaks of gold gleam
constantly as he moves his head slightly from time to time. She’s never seen
anyone with such great hair or maybe she just didn’t see much.
“I
don’t think we should go out so quickly, you know?” Sharon sheepishly said.
Her
friends shrugged, “Suit yourself but you’re going to regret refusing.”
“Oh,”
she laughs bluntly.
She
didn’t really care for what her friends said; her attention was way too spent on
the man just a few tables away from her.
***
“So,
who’s this Douglas guy?”
She
had her friends sticking their noses into her business, as usual. Over the
week, Sharon had met the exact guy she was head over heels for in an obscure way.
He was just at a newsstand and it so happened that she was at the same
newsstand too. Plus, she’s still in shock because there’s a one in a million
chance anyone could meet the same stranger again.
“None
of your business,” Sharon folds her blanket, neatly setting it on the foot of
the bed.
“Was
it the guy you had the stupid eyes the first night we arrived here?” the other
said.
“What?”
she snapped at them, not knowing that they were that observant.
“You
have the attention span of a goldfish. We’ve been putting up with you for
years. And trust me; it was like talking to a dry wall that night.”
Sharon’s
blood boiled at the words that were put out simply that morning. She scavenged for
the little piece of paper that Douglas had written on and stormed off to a
little park just around the corner of the street from their building.
Her
fists balled up, crumpling the tiny paper in her hand. She did try to contain
her frustration and anger, but lately her anger management tricks haven’t been
working so well.
Once
she finds a park bench to console herself, she gingerly opens the tiny piece of
paper that had little torn edges. Black ink sketched across the paper. So many
scribbles… She started to remember the day he wrote on the paper.
It
was a rainy day in London; she had to find shelter quick. She couldn’t have the
risk of her appearance to turn into a horrid image for her next interview in an
hour. She finally found a newsstand that had a big enough roof to shelter her
until the rain becomes a drizzle.
Sharon
clutched onto her portfolio file like her life depended on it (honestly, it
did). She was shivering, the back of her shirt was already damp and to make
matters even worse her hair had gotten a little wet too.
“Heavy
rain, no?” a familiar man leaned into her, smiling. Her face lit up, remembering
the familiar grin that painted his face. His eyes were an unbelievable hazel.
They were literally a foot away yet she was too shy to take in the crammed
space. She had to move an inch to the side, her arm almost getting wet from the
rain. Besides, he probably needed the space to read the daily newspaper.
“Uh…
Yeah, rain. Water from the sky,” she stumbled over her words like a clumsy
waiter attempting to swerve a crowd of people. At that moment, she prayed to
God to take her now because whatever came out of her mouth were ridiculous and did not seem attractive at all.
But
he just whole-heartedly laughed. She was confused for a moment—wondering if it
was something she said or something written on the newspaper.
“You
seem to be in a rush. What’s the matter?”
His
accent was so… strong; it made her want to faint. Her pulse had stopped as the
conversation was building up.
“A…
Job interview,” she nodded her head nervously. She had never felt so jittery
before.
“Ah,”
he laughs once again, “I know those.”
After
he said that, she assumed that he had some kind of special job because he was
laughing at the thought of it. Her anxiety of her job interview had turned into
the anxiety of talking to someone so flawless that she felt unworthy in his
presence.
“Why are British men all attractive?!”
she thought to herself while keeping a calm smile on her face.
Sharon
glanced at her watch and it was half an hour more to go until the interview
starts.
“You
have to go now?” he puts back the papers and sets them aside.
A
lump forms in her throat as he approached closer to her, sealing the vacancy
between them.
“Yeah,
kind of…” she awkwardly tried to move to away from him, eventhough she didn’t want
to.
“Say,
where is this interview taking place at?” he looked out to the street filled
with all kinds of coloured umbrellas.
“Just…
I don’t know, twenty blocks away from here?” she tried to stay cool, hiding her
internal screams.
“You
wouldn’t mind if a complete stranger walks you there?” he moved in front of
her, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “I have my trench coat; it’s
enough to shelter us both.”
She
could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks and ears, “Are you sure it’s not
troublesome for you?”
He
shrugged with a willing smile, “If it was, why would I make an offering?”
That
day the complete strangers became… sort of like acquaintances. Would it count
as acquaintances if he pulled you by his side and held up the trench coat over
his and your heads? It sure didn’t seem like it. People were giving them double
takes. When they finally reached her destination, Sharon collected up the guts
to ask him why people were staring at them. He just said that he’s some kind of
local actor (but really, he’s sort of a international actor… but let’s just
stick to local).
Before
heading into the building, he took out a little piece of paper and wrote his
name and phone number.
“In
case you need shelter from the rain,” he laughed awkwardly. “Just don’t call me
and have an umbrella in hand.”
“Will
do,” she clutched onto the paper, subtly taking a whiff of his scent from the
paper like a total stalker.