Chapter Three

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"When two people meet, each one is changed by the other so you've got two new people." ~John Steinbeck [Taken from berlin-artparasites on Facebook] 

CHAPTER THREE

Something—or someone was licking Vesper's face. She blindly reached for it and her hands found a furry head. It's a dog—she realized when her fingers touched the wet nose and felt a tongue on her palm.

I must be dreaming about Noah.

Noah was her loyal Welsh Corgi who passed away when she was twenty-two. She nuzzled her head to the dog and stroked its ears. The dog planted wet, sloppy kisses all over her face.

Hey, that doesn't feel like a dream.

Vesper blinked for a few times before completely opening her eyes. It took her two seconds to fully register that there's a real dog in front of her face, its tongue hanging out. I do not have a dog. Confused and alarmed, she backed away from the dog and looked around her. This is not my room—nor Margo's—nor my childhood room.

The bed she was in was huge, even bigger than the queen-sized bed back in her apartment. The color of the bed frame was mahogany, and the sheets were navy blue while the pillow cases were cream-colored. To the left and to the right were white lampshades on top of mahogany nightstands. The walls were navy blue and the ceiling was beige in color. On the parquet floor was a plush gray rug. To her far right was a large window with dark gray curtains and in front of it was a plush armchair in forest green. To her far left was a door and beside it was a large floor-to-ceiling closet. In front of her was a flatscreen TV and under it was a bookshelf. There's an open door. Clearly, this room belongs to a man, she realized. She gasped at the thought and hastily stood up.

"Argh." She stood up and her head immediately pounded, forcing her to sit back down the bed. 

Fvck, did I have a one-night stand? Oh sh!t, no please. She felt for anything unusual and decided that nothing was wrong with her except for the head-splitting headache that she was feeling.

She completely forgot about the dog until it jumped down the bed and went out of the door while yapping. She slowly stood up and saw that she's still wearing the same clothes from last night. Yep, I most certainly did not have a one-night stand—or slept with anybody for that matter. Thank God. Her heels were on the floor. She peered out the door and saw that it leads to living room. The scent of bacon wafted through her nostrils, and she can hear the clanging of pans.

Where am I? Why am I here? Who is out there? She stepped back into the bedroom and went for the door beside the closet. It was a bathroom—a nice one for the record. She looked at the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her dark hair was tousled, resembling a bird's nest. She washed her face and washed the bitter taste from her mouth with the mouthwash she found. She then smoothed her hair and took a deep breath before deciding to come out and face whoever was outside the room.

I hope this will go well.

Vesper walked barefoot outside the door and observed the living room. The walls were painted forest green and the ceiling was the same beige color. A huge flatscreen TV was hanging on the wall. Below was a rack that contains pictures of the dog and an impressive movie collection, along with volumes of several TV shows. Her inner geek immediately swooned. The black leather couch was in contrast with the white throw pillows on it. Two matching armchairs were nearby and in the middle was a rectangular mahogany center table. To the right of the living room was a French door that opens up to a small balcony.

She continued walking down the hallway, where the scent of bacon was getting stronger. She passed by two doors before arriving at a kitchen. The kitchen was sleek and modern, and she would have continued admiring it had she not noticed the tall man standing with his bare back to her. His skin was fair—almost matching Vesper's own skin tone—though hers was still fairer than his. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers was visible. His head was a curly mass of shoulder-length dark brown hair. His back was lean though it was not that muscular, just the right kind.

Now that is one sexy back. She shook her head to erase the thoughts. She was about to call the man's attention when he suddenly turned to face her.

To say that she was shocked was an understatement. She was pretty sure that she looked unattractive with her mouth gaping wide open like a fish out of water but she couldn't help it. This man was the same man she insulted and slapped last night.

This is Pervert-Hobo guy.

She continued to stare at him.

He's even more attractive in the light of day.

She remembered the murky green eyes that she stared at last night. They seemed brighter with sunlight shining upon them. His hair was tucked behind his ears, exposing more of his 5 o'clock shadow. Her eyes roamed from his broad shoulders down to his chest that's covered in a mass of dark curls. Her eyes moved down, following the happy trail of the dark curls that stopped at the waistband of his boxers, and with his jeans hanging deliciously low on his hips, she could see the start of his love handles. He doesn't have washboard abs or a rock-hard chest but his body was lean and was certainly worth lusting after.

"Why, good morning to you too," the man said. Her head snapped up to his direction and saw a stupid grin plastered on his face.

He must've noticed me ogling him. Heat crept up her face and she's sure that she looked like a ripe tomato as of the moment. "Uhm, good morning?" she said. No, why the hell am I greeting him 'good morning'? He might have kidnapped me! "Where am I? Why am I here? Did we.. we did not, right?" she blabbered.

"What? Did we sleep together?" he said nonchalantly.

She winced at the thought. "We did not, right?"

"No, we did not. Screwing unconscious women isn't my thing. I like my women screaming and responding with equal fervour. Plus sex that isn't consensual is appalling. I am not a rapist, okay?"

Relief flooded her brain. "Yeah. Sure. Good to know. Very good to know."

He handed her a bottle of Gatorade and an aspirin. "Here, for your hangover."

"Thank you." She put the pill in her mouth and drank the Gatorade.

"To answer your questions, you're in my apartment. And as for why you are here, you owe me an explanation. But first, sit down for breakfast." He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit down.

"I'd rather not. I'd rather leave immediately because in case you've forgotten, you grabbed my arm and then squeezed my ass. Besides, I am not that hungr—" Right on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly, loud enough for the both of them to hear.

"Hungry," he said, finishing her sentence. "Please, sit down and consider this breakfast as a peace offering for last night's events. I apologize; I don't know what came over me."

She continued to stay rooted in her spot so he stood up, led her to the table, and sat her down the chair.

"I apologize too for insulting you," she mumbled.

"Good. So now that we've settled our animosity towards each other, I want to hear an explanation from you on why you were sprawled out on my car and in turn I'll give you my explanation," he said while putting a generous amount of bacon and eggs and toast on her plate.

She closed her eyes and last night's events started to flood her memory.

Margo.. Pervert-Hobo Guy.. Margaritas, Mojitos, Cosmopolitans..Margo leaving.. Kurt..

"Kurt," she mumbled. "That fvcking bastard!" she angrily exclaimed.

"What?" the man asked.

"There was this man last night, he said his name was Kurt and he bought us drinks, me and my friend. When my friend left to interview the owner of the club he sat beside me and chatted with me. He offered me another round of drinks, said it was vodka, and I accepted it." She paused. "Wait a minute.. Now I remember why I got drunk. He kept on refilling my glass and I wasn't aware of it that's why I kept on wondering why the drink won't finish. I must have drank two glasses of the stuff without my knowledge."

"God, don't you know that you women must keep a close eye on your drinks?" he scolded.

She shot him a glare. "I'm trying to think here."

He shut up and continued on eating his toast. She observed his fingers—they were long—and wondered what those fingers would feel like pumping furiously in and out of her—

"..then what happened?" he asked. She didn't catch the first part of his question. She blushed at her carnal thoughts and chewed on a slice of bacon.

"So I thanked him for the drinks and then told him that I'd like to be left alone. He obliged and I thought he was fine with that. I stood up and felt dizzy so I walked to the bathroom. Suddenly, a person pinned me to the wall and it was him. I asked him to let me go but he kept on holding my wrists and the prick even trailed kisses down my neck. I screamed for help but obviously no one heard me so I just decided to think. I stomped my heels down his silly leather shoes, kneed his groin and ran outside the club. I was supposed to walk to my friend's car but I tripped on the gutter and fell face-flat on your car. I was so dizzy that I decided to close my eyes and when I opened them, I'm here." She looked at him, unsure of what he'll say about her.

He watched as her pretty face scrunched up, her brows furrowing. "So I went out of the club and saw that there was a woman sprawled on my car. I recognized you as the woman who insulted me but since I wasn't holding any grudges against you I decided to take you back to your home instead of shoving you away from my car and leaving you on the sidewalk. I searched you and you have no wallet, no phone, no ID, no anything so I just came up with the bright idea of taking you here to my home. I just set you on my bed, removed your uncomfortable-looking heels and left you alone. I slept on my couch, okay? I didn't do anything to you."

She nodded in understanding and gave him a small smile. "Thank you for the kindness. And again, sorry for insulting and slapping you."

"Sure. No hard feelings for you," he said

Right on time to distract him, Ellie came sauntering to the kitchen and scratched Vesper's legs.

"She's my dog and her name is Ellie," he said.

"Hello there, Ellie." She patted the dog's head.

"You know, she doesn't warm up to other people immediately. She's usually jealous of the females around me. Seems that you're in luck."

Ellie raised her right paw and Vesper gladly shook it. "Maybe she sensed that I like dogs too."

"You have a dog?"

"Had. His name's Noah and he's a Welsh Corgi. He passed away three years ago."

"Sad to hear that. Ellie here is a Border Collie. She's four." Andray snapped his fingers and the dog immediately went to him, snuggling its head to him.

"He was six when he died. Heartworm."

Vesper stood up. "Thank you very much for your kindness but I really need to go home. I have work at 2 pm and according to you wall clock, it's already 12:40 pm."

"Let me take you home." He stood up and cleared their plates. She rushed to help him. Her fingers immediately jerked away from his when she felt a spark of electricity between them.

"No, that's too much. I'll just take the bus." She groaned and slapped her forehead when she remembered that she left her purse on the bar stool.

"Really?" he challenged.

"Okay, not really," she said in defeat. "I can use a ride home."

His brain immediately conjured up different images when she said the word 'ride'. Snapping out of his carnal thoughts, he said, "Of course. I'd be glad. Just let me put a shirt on." They exited the kitchen.

Vesper grabbed her heels from the room and put it on. He put on a white V-neck tee that's exposing a few of his chest hair. Would he like it if I tug on his chest hair while having s—

"Let's go, shall we?" He opened the door and she scurried out, her face beet red.

You horny slvt, she scolded herself.

He led her to an elevator and then down to a parking lot. They stopped in front of a silver car.

"That's a Porsche. Sweet." She's not a car enthusiast but she certainly knew something about cars.

"That is correct. This is the car that you're sprawled out on." He opened the passenger door for her before stepping into the driver's seat. She stepped inside the car, roaming her eyes on its interiors.

"So, address?" he asked.

"Uhm, yeah." She dictated her address and then they sped off.

The car ride was silent. Vesper played with her fingers and he focused on driving. After a few minutes of awkwardness, she decided to break the eerie silence.

"Uhm, you have nice hair," she blurted out. What the fvck, brain? She covered her mouth with her hand and lowered her head, positive that she's blushing hard.

He chuckled. "Thanks, I grow it myself."

She nervously laughed in return. His face was contorted in an obvious effort to hide his laughter. He failed miserably, and guffawed. "I'm sorry, about that. It's just that you should see your face. You're so red," he said in between laughs.

She didn't need to look in the mirror. With the heat that her face was feeling, she's pretty sure that she looked like a ripe tomato. "I'm sorry. I'm not an awkward person but well, this situation is a bit unconventional."

"Point taken, and hey, you have nice hair too." He didn't add that he's wondering how her dark hair would look like spread all over his pillowcases. "It's so dark it's almost blue," he continued.

"Thanks," she murmured.

They arrived in front of her apartment block. She tried to let herself out the car but he beat her to it and opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"You said that for like, ten times already."

"Well then I must change it to: I am expressing my sincerest gratitude to you."

He chuckled. "Clever. So I guess this is goodbye?"

"Yes it is. Goodbye now. I hope I can return the favour to you some time."

"Well then goodbye...?" he said with a questioning look.

"No need for a name. We won't see each other anyway." She felt an odd pang of disappointment when she said that.

"Maybe your number then?" He didn't know why he kept on pressing for details when he knew she was right—their paths won't probably cross again.

"No need for a number too." She gave him a sad smile. "Bye," she hastily said, afraid that she might do something stupid like give her name and number to the guy. She quickly turned her back and went inside the lobby.

~*~*~*~*~

"Andray! My name is Andray!" the man yelled, but he saw that she was already inside and won't hear him no matter how loud he yells. Shaking his head in disappointment, he just drove home.

~*~*~*~*~

Vesper greeted the receptionist and was about to ask for a spare key when a frantic Margo approached her.

"Oh my God, Vesper! Where the hell have you been?" Margo hugged her tight, almost squeezing the life out of her.

"You can let go now," Vesper said, gasping for air. Margo let go of her and she noted her friend's puffy eyes. "Have you been crying?" she asked.

"Of course you silly girl." Margo sniffed. "I thought you got kidnapped and then you suffered a night of abuse and that you're currently lying in a ditch somewhere. I was worried sick! Like really, really, terribly worried." 

"I'll explain to you in my apartment. But before that, did you get my belongings? I left it at the club."

"Yeah, the bartender gave it to me when I asked about you. He said you staggered to the bathroom and didn't come back." They entered the elevator.

"It's a long story but to tell you the gist of it, the blonde guy who's sending us drinks was named Kurt and he's a total douchebag, bastard, and jerk all rolled into one." Vesper sighed and massaged her temples.

Margo's eyes went wide as saucers. "What? Why? Did you sleep with the guy?"

"God, no! I'll explain inside."

They arrived in front of Vesper's apartment and Margo opened the door. They went inside and plopped down on Vesper's cream sofa.

"So, spill," Margo prodded.

"I'm telling you this is a long story and we have work in an hour," Vesper warned. Their office hours were shortened during Saturdays, and the office was closed on Sundays so they have a day off.

"Ah, screw work. We could come in late and they won't even notice us."

Vesper started to recount her story, starting from the moment Kurt-the-scumbag sat down to chat with her to purposely get her drunk and to Pervert-Hobo Guy who, after all, wasn't a pervert or a hobo.

"Wow. This sounds a bit crazy. But seriously Ves, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone." Margo shot her an apologetic look.

"It's not your fault, Go. Besides there's no harm done and I'm perfectly fine."

"Okay. But I wish I met that Kurt guy so I could beat the living daylights out of him."

"I kneed him in the groin, remember?" Vesper smiled triumphantly in the memory.

"Yeah. I have taught you well. But I also wish I met the other guy even though he squeezed your ass."

"Well, we won't meet again—ever—that scum-of-the-earth whose name's Kurt and the Pervert-Hobo Guy." Vesper didn't know why, but she knew that she wanted to encounter Pervert-Hobo Guy again no matter how hard she denied it.

"I thought we've already established that he's neither a pervert nor a hobo."

"I don't know his name. What am I supposed to call him? Jared Leto because of his locks?" Or Adonis because damn he's hot. Vesper frowned at her thoughts and mentally chastised herself.

"Try long-haired-guy-with-the-Porsche."

Vesper rolled her eyes at Margo. "Let's just forget about him."

"But I want to meet him. He sounds hot. Especially the long hair, the beard, and the green eyes part." Margo sighed dreamily.

"You little perv." Vesper slapped Margo's arm.

Margo only chuckled. "You're very descriptive. Is he hot?"

"Uhm, kind of." That kind of hot that I was imagining what his long legs would look tangled with mine. Vesper shook her head.

"Why? What is it?"

"Nothing, I'm just a bit hangover," Vesper lied. She couldn't say that she was thinking of sleeping with a man she doesn't even know. "You better move your ass, hon. We'll be so late for work."

"Yeah, I know," Margo replied.

After bidding Margo farewell, Vesper proceeded to take a shower.

She was ten minutes late for work. No, make that twenty considering the time she'll spend driving but she didn't care anymore.

Vesper breathed a sigh of relief when no one noticed her tardiness. Margo on the other hand, was given a scolding when she crossed paths with Cindy, their editor-in-chief, at the front door.

"It seems like Cindy is experiencing Shark Week every freaking day," Margo complained on their way out of the office. It was already the end of their working hours and they're both heading to their own homes.

"Well if I was your editor-in-chief I'd be hot-headed too."

"Screw you, Nichols!" Margo playfully slapped her

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