Chapter Three
1558 Words
I was still huffing when I returned to the after-party, annoyance running in my veins like blood because of the encounter I had just had at the parking lot with the assh*le of a stranger.
Prostit*te? He thought that I was his pick-up girl for the night?!
Sure, my dress was short and it stuck to my body like a glove, but it have no man the right to judge me over my clothing choices, much less call me a sl*t to my face.
D*ck. That's what the man was. A devilishly handsome bast*rd.
I must've been still mentally cursing the man while walking and shaking my head to myself, huffing when I arrived inside because the first question Samantha asked me was: "What happened?"
"To me?" I pretended to be surprised as I pulled my smile back on my lips, composing myself, "Nothing. Why?"
"The music is blasting around us," she said, her eyes involuntarily flickering around the dark venue, "And you're still lost in your head. Of course something happened."
"I'm not lost in my head." I assure her, "But yes, the music is blasting." And it was. It was very loud and the room was dark, and the lights dim. A DJ was constantly switching music, the dance floor was on fire and well, there was so much alcohol... in every corner you look at.
"You love it, don't you?" Samantha asked close to my ear to not have to shout over the music, probably noticing how my eyes twinkled as I looked around.
"I do." I grinned at her, and for a moment, a very tiny little moment, I forgot all about the man I had encountered back at the parking lot as the idea of having a few more drinks and hitting the dance floor occupied my mind. But as I said, the moment was tiny. Very tiny, because the very next second, I locked eyes with him across the dance floor.
He was here. In the after-party.
And he was looking my way.
And he didn't even bother to look away when we locked gaze. He just... stared, his dark brown eyes spitting fire.
"Oh my, God!" Samantha whisper shrieked in my ears over the music, making me flinch as I broke eye contact with the stranger in a reflex, and looked at her.
"What?"
She smiled smugly. "Who is he?!"
"A d*ck." I answer her with a frown, and she knits her eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
"He's a d*ck who owes me a f*cking apology." I grumble, and then shake my head. I was partying on a work night when I had a long day at shoot tomorrow. I shouldn't get my head wrapped up around this. Now that I'm here, might as well be out there and socialise. "Just leave it."
"Hmm.." She nodded unconvinced, but let me walk away nonetheless.
*
I could barely move for the next few hours without feeling his strong gaze on me. Of course, that didn't stop me from doing my thing. I danced to the loud music with strangers on the dance floor, came so close to kissing one fine man who I think was a director- I'm not sure- but decided against it for an unexplainable reason. That's how I winded up on the bar aisle at the end of the next hours.
"Whiskey. On the rocks." I said to the bartender, my feet still tapping to the music playing around me. I couldn't wait to hit back the dance floor, and the night was still young... I didn't want to get drunk just yet. Hence, the diluted drink. I had been drinking enough as it is.
"That's fine taste for a woman." A hoarse and unfortunately now familiar voice made its way to me, making me curse in a whisper and take a deep breath before I turned to face the man standing behind me.
"Why? Is whiskey copyrighted by men?"
"No." He chuckled, walking closer and I reflexively walked backwards, my back pressed up against the glass aisle of the bar counter. "I just haven't seen a lot of women loving whiskey."
"Now you've seen one." I faked a smile, grabbing my glass from the counter all ready to leave his company, when he spoke ahead.
"Juliet, I'm keeping a tab."
"Of the amount of times you've been a complete and utter d*ck to a woman who's name you don't know?" I ridiculed.
"Funny." He commented, unamused, "But no. Of the amount of apologies you owe to me."
"And let me guess? It's.. um.. zero?" I feigned curiosity, when I wasn't intrigued at all. All I wanted to do was leave his company.
He looked like the type that I would want to stay away from.
"Close enough. It's two." I knew amusement flickered in his eyes when he spoke to me, but I wasn't the one who amused him. It was almost as if... he was amusing himself. What an idiotic, complicated man.
But oh. What an idiotic, complicated, handsome man.
"You're an arrogant pr*ck." I feigned another smile at him.
"Ow." He pretended to be hurt, but that same small smug smile played on his lips, one that got on my nerves. I shook my head to myself, another string of curse words coming to the top of my head every time I thought of him as I walked out and back onto the dance floor, simply not wanting to think about him anymore.
Which was hard, considering the fact that his eyes found their way on me more than once, and I for some reason always kept him in the corner of mine.
And the fact that he was so devilishly suave didn't help at all. Two conversations with him and I knew I strongly disliked him.
He was arrogant. He was a d*ck.
And for some reason, he felt like he was a hurricane in a human form. Some one I wanted to stay miles away from.
*
The night ended with me in the balcony portion of the room, the director who I had refrained from kissing earlier all over me now, his lips almost on mine, his hands roaming around my thigh, almost slipping inside. Almost...
God, it had been a while since...
"I– I–" He suddenly said in a panicked way, pulling away.
"What is it?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing.
"I.. can't kiss you." He said hastily, making me frown furthermore.
"Why not?"
"I had a little too much–" He suddenly stopped speaking as he gagged, making me jump away from him. I saw him struggling for a second, probably trying to hold his puke in, as he took a few steps backwards and quickly walked away, his walks turning into sprints as he tried reaching the bathroom.
That was... disgusting. Gross.
I shook my head, the feeling to gag overcoming me.
And I was just about to kiss that.
"Unfortunately, your impeccable taste doesn't apply to men." The same voice made its way to me, and this time, it didn't even surprise me as pursing my lips, I turned to the man who was no longer a stranger to my eyes.
"Well, I am having a conversation with you for the third time, so clearly, it doesn't."
"Touché Juliet, touché." He almost looked... proud? Of what I just said. Weird. Weird. So weird.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" I asked him, crossing my hands before my chest, blinking my eyes at him.
"Because you owe me something, and I always get what I want."
I chuckled to myself in sarcasm, "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that is not how this is going to play out then. If anything, you need to apologise to me."
"And what for, Juliet?" He raised one of his eyebrow, the smirk persisting. Oh, how much I would pay just to punch him once more and wipe that smirk off..
"Firstly, for calling me that." I scowl.
"It's a pretty name."
"It isn't mine!"
"Doesn't matter. Next reason?"
I gave him a look of disbelief, but went ahead nonetheless. "For commenting on my dress length and telling me I have a nice ass."
"You cannot be serious." He retorted, "That was a compliment."
I furrowed my eyebrows further, annoyance running through my veins. "Have you ever held a conversation with a girl before?"
"I have, but it usually ends with her kneeling for me."
"Oh my, God." I gasped in disgust. How can a man be so, so full of himself? "I have no clue what kingdom you run, but I can assure you I am not your subject. Either you will talk to me with respect or you will not talk to me at all."
"Feisty." He commented, "I like you, Juliet."
This man was really, really beginning to get on my nerves. Or I simply had no patience for this today. "And I do not like you."
"So apologise to me and leave."
"Like I said, if anything, you are the one who has to apologise to me."
A smug smirk spread over his lips. "Then let's see who apologises first, shall we?"
This time, I didn't decline. Without thinking, I took a confident step towards him, a smile playing on my own lips. "Challenge accepted."
*
- Writer
