CH 2: Met again!

RYAN

 I asked her to enter while sitting at my desk. I tried to ignore her formal attire, high heels, sleek legs, and perfect hourglass figure. Being in a position like me I encounter women like her every other day. Her hairs were open, and a side bang covered her square face. She wore light lipstick with a little eyeliner on the top of her eyelash.

Doesn't seem pretentious.

 Not that I won’t admit, she was quite attractive—as I put it to some gentlemanly tone.

I pretended to stick my eyes on the computer screen when in reality, was eager to look into her mesmerizing gaze.

  She gave me an elegant smile before I took her to the couch.

 The interview began, and she started to ask me questions, about my plans, investment, shares, stock but didn't ask me a question out of that. Usually, all the interviews held are mostly aimed at my personal life more than the professional one— that’s juicier that’s what they say.

Though she seemed a little attracted to me, she didn’t show even quite a bit of interest in my personal life.

She looked confident at every question she asked, and seem to expect more of a serious business-related answer. An expression so calm and yet full of glory, seem to catch more of my attention. Making me regret All the years I've been fcking around*— as I put not very gentlemanly.

 I tried to answer every question she asked, the way she expected. The less she was interested in me, the more I became interested in her.

 And who says men aren’t attracted by the challenge. Her gaze flicked through some pages, in between the interview, and within seconds averted back to me. Never in the middle, her gaze lingered through my body. They were fixed— on my eyes. Challenging, like that of a tigress.

I don’t know if she was doing it purposely or was it her normal, cause if she trying to flirt even a little bit. It was hell working for me.

 By the time the interview came to an end, I had started to check her out, in detail. She wore a light blouse shirt matching with the dark shade of her pencil skirt. She looked way more attractive when sitting. I took a glance at her neck and the identity card on her chest caught my attention;

Name - Rose Bell (she already told me though)

 Age - 26

 Company – Zero publications

 Position - Assistant manager

 I repeated in my mind as if trying to memorize every bit of her information in my head. I asked her if she forgot something, but her surprised look, made me jump to the point. I couldn’t wait.

I asked if she could have dinner; that was very polite and she declined it with politeness only.

But the next one got a little freaky, I swear, that wasn’t my intention to spend a night. But something about her, something about her confident gaze, was telling me to explore. Explore her boundaries. And so I did.

 And god! The way she looked at me, astonished with disgusted. It’s like her ear went straight (could have if it was possible), her eyes even bolder. She didn’t look quite a fan of hookups— neither I was of the loveless s*x, But wasn’t still that of a saint.

 And I again played with her guard. And the result— She left me ten dollars on the desk, on her way out. Very brilliant of me!

I watched her moving into a taxi, from the glass wall of my office room.

 ROSE

 I got off the building, annoyed, and grabbed a taxi home. By the way, I even regretted leaving my 10 dollars for an idiot like him.

Seriously\, love is s*x\, and s*x is what all guys want\, so let all the handsome guys go to hell.

I repeated in my head as I finally reached home. Putting all my belongings down, I back hugged Jane who was still breaking her eye lenses over Netflix. Apparently, she had started the third series of ‘The All the Boys’ who didn’t go to hell.

 “You back,” she asked, still fixing her eyes on the television screen. I nodded and went back to my tidy yet untidy room.

After taking a cool shower, I finally e-mailed the details and recording of the interview to Mr. Shah, our department head (he looked like a big piggy).

Walking to the kitchen I took out a pre-made toast and ate it with some banana milk and since nothing else was left (besides cursing that CEO guy) I grabbed my laptop. Everyone has their pass times, some play games, some scroll through social media, some do nothing like laying on the couch binging Netflix (there are people other than Jane to think about)  while finishing the editing of some latest articles.

Not really something that I’m quite proud of though— my tendency to perfect every comma, sentence, and para wells me with anxiety to the core.

By the time I finished my work, it was already time for diner; which was nothing more than some well-cooked spaghetti with sauce ( that was the easiest to make, plus Jane liked it too)

I prepared dinner for both Jane and me; which was nothing more than some well-cooked spaghetti with sauce ( that was the easiest to make, plus Jane liked it too)— though Jane cooks better than me, according to the weekly division of our responsibilities, I was supposed to cook today.

While eating I told Jane a full descriptive view of today's scenario, which was the least she was interested in, she was way more interested in knowing about the CEO than about the interview.

I cleared all her doubts and then got to grab my pillow to sleep.

I had plans, unlike people who lay on the couch and do nothing on weekends (again, there are people more than Jane).

The next day I had to visit my grandpa, who was living as a heart patient in the city hospital.

He is in the last stage of it, sad? I know but he is the only one along with grandma whom I can call my family.

After my parent’s divorce, my mom remarried an Indian and settled there only while my father died in a car accident a year later. By the time I graduated high school, grandpa was detected to have some sort of cardiovascular disease and my grandma started spending her time visiting the hospital on a regular basis.

Every weekend I go to visit him, though my mom is still alive I rarely get a chance to talk to her plus it has now been two years since I met her.

It was eight in the morning as I walked to the bus stand and waited, waited for almost ten minutes for the bus to arrive. And as soon as it did, I grabbed one of the middle sites and switch on some Camilla Cabello songs to share my journey.

Nothing significant really happened till then— besides the fact the five-year-old sitting beside me was crying for ice cream, that her mom probably forgot to buy.

By the time I reached the hospital, forty minutes had already passed by. I walked inside the hospital building asked the receptionist for my grandpa "he is happy and fine " she smiled, as she always does. The same sentence she always says.

Then I took the lift and went straight to my grandpa's room. I slowly slid the door open (not wanting to disturb grandpa; in case he was sleeping) and to my surprise was welcomed by a male figure dressed in all black, sitting with his back to me, but face to grandpa.  I couldn't see his face.

Who was he? I wondered if I had some stepbrothers from my mom’s side— did my dad had an affair?

 Taking a step inside, I whispered “grandpa” stretching my arms for his warm bearly hug, when to my surprise no actually shock I heard a familiar voice.

“Oh...we met again, Miss Bell”. I froze.

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