5|A Name

Two endless pools of misty gray peered down at me, inviting me to get lost in them, to see if I could drown into their depths, framed by illegally long lashes. Eloisa would hide away her fake lashes, for sure. It leads to the slope of his nose, perfect, not even crooked or upturned, down to those pinkish lips. So full and luscious-looking, the sides tipped up into a smile that warmed me inside when it stretched into a smirk.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice, his accent, and his scent… how can this be possible. It’s like he walked out of my dreams and became a reality.

“You… are you the man in my dreams?”

His eyes narrowed to slits, something dangerous flashed in those hues. I briefly wondered what he was thinking. The intensity of his gaze warmed my chest to the point that I’d forgotten where we were. We are stuck in the open door; him holding me by my arms while I was gripping the lapel of his coat. A whip of chilly air swept past us, making me shiver, waking me up from ogling him.

I pushed myself away from him, holding my ground even if his intoxicating perfume still surrounds me.

“Uhm…” I tucked the strands of my hair behind my ears as he closed the door.

Fuck! I just realized how absurd my question was. I can’t believe I voiced that out.

He stood a good six-foot-two, so I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. This man is a work of art. Each curve and dip of his face was perfection that I’m held speechless again, and I’m never one to be held speechless by a man. Although I’m not a talkative person, I have a lot to say. I just choose not to voice it.

He still wears that dangerous yet charming glance, so warm and alluring that I circled back to ogling him.

As he tilted his head to the side, his dark hair tumbled over his forehead. My fingers itched to reach up and brush it off to the side because they’ve curtained over his eyes.

“Do you recognize me?” he asked. Somehow, I’m grateful that he was not making a side comment about my statement.

Before I could answer, two teenagers sauntered inside the café, forcing him to take a step back, giving way to the newcomers.

I mumbled a no, although I’m not sure if he heard me, and slipped out of the café before the glass door closed.

I pulled my coat closer to my body, crossing the distance between the café entrance to my car.

“Got something?” Paul was leaning against my car, parked side by side with his impala.

I shook my head, not really in the mood to talk to him even if it’s about the investigation.

In the last four days, he’s been constantly pushing and pushing me to talk to him.

He didn’t budge from where he’s standing, right against the driver’s side of my car.

I’m not very fond of the cold weather, so I narrowed my gaze at him when he just kept staring. “Can you move?”

“Why won’t you give me a chance here, Dawnie?”

I knew this day would come. It started with him bringing coffee for me at the station, bagels the next day and he joined me in my lunch at the cafeteria yesterday. It was his MO even when he courted me at school. Small things led to another. There was never a thing he did without a hidden agenda.

“Chance to what?” I glanced back at the café entrance. From my vantage point, I can see him standing there, so tall and broad. It was hard to tell if he was looking in my direction or not. Why would he, anyway?

“… together.” I must’ve zoned out, because that’s the only word I caught of what Paul mumbled.

“No,” I said, a constant answer I gave him since Tuesday.

“Why not?” he insisted. “Why can’t you try?”

“Why can’t you get a fucking hint?” I reached behind him. He must’ve seen something in my face that made him step aside so I could open the door and slide in, slamming it close so hard that the chassis shook.

I closed my eyes, breathing in and out, calming my erratically beating heart. It’s not even because of my anger with Paul, but because of that stranger. This pitter-patter inside my chest cavity is so strange I wonder if it’s even natural to feel this way.

It’s warm and the urge to go back inside the café and see him again was so strong like something is pulling me to do it. I bit my lip, closing my eyes as I threw my head back on the headrest. Even with my eyelids closed, it’s his face I could see.

These dreams I’m having, they’re affecting me so much. Why did I even want to have dreams in the first place? Is this even normal?

While I was battling with myself, Paul’s impala roared to life and exited the parking lot, leaving me to watch him disappear through the curve. That car used to be my favorite car in the world. That stupid metal holds memories of us. He made sure we’d reenact the scene from my favorite movie in the back seat of his car. I’d imagined I was Kate, and he was my Leo while the steam from our body fogged the windows of his car.

Paul made a lot of my desire come true and at one point after our breakup, I hoped he’d come back to me, groveling for my forgiveness. Now that he’s trying to win me back, I hate it. I don’t want him to want me anymore. Paul is a man who never gives up and I’m afraid this is only the beginning of his stunts.

~~

Grocery shopping makes me feel so domesticated and so was living alone. Life is quiet… too quiet and all I have as my company is some N*****x chick flick movie playing in an utterly low volume from my laptop while I was making dinner.

I’ve only been on this routine for five days and it’s dawning on me how lonely being alone is.

Maybe I’ll adopt a dog or a cat. That’s a thought.

To keep my mind occupied while waiting for the mac and cheese baking in the oven, I reached for my coat hanging on the rack by the apartment’s entry. Corina’s unsettled gesture still bothered me and I have this gut feeling that she knew more than what she’s letting on.

My forehead creased when my hand touched nothing but the soft fabric on the inner chest pocket. Removing it from the hook, I turned all the pockets inside out and my journal was still out of sight.

I bit my lip, playing all the scenes in my head after the talk I had with Corina.

When the mac and cheese were done cooking, I stepped out of my apartment, headed back to the Coffee Hut, hoping that my journal was still there.

It’s not.

Jenny, the cashier, kindly allowed me to scour through the CCTV recordings of the shop and there I found who has my journal. The beautiful gray-eyed man.

The black book dropped from my coat when I bumped into him. He was indeed staring at the parking lot before he noticed the journal. He picked it up, but when he stepped out in search of me; I was already driving away. He shook his head and slipped the journal inside his coat.

There was stupid fluttering in my chest at the idea of seeing him again. I kept my mind occupied, pushing the thought of his face out of my head, but now I can’t help but rewind the recording, pausing when his eyes were narrowed to slit, smiling down at me. Clicking the enhance button, my irritation grew when the image was blurry. ‘They have crappy cameras,’ I thought and settled for studying his face.

“Mr. Valentin?” Jenny’s chirpy voice startled me. My hand instantly came to my sidearm, hidden beneath my three layers of clothing.

“Who?” I asked, keeping my voice steady as she entered the office, which would pass as a storage room. Boxes and piles of papers were wedged on the four walls and the two of us sharing the air made the room smaller than it already was.

Jenny, a redhead around my age, pulled off her apron and tightened the messy tie of her hair by grabbing her locks in two, pulling hard enough that her scalp screamed from the force. Her purple-painted lips formed a pout, motioning on the computer where I’ve enhanced the man’s face.

“Oh.” Valentin… I repeated the name in my head - unsure why I had to do that. What’s important is that I have a name to call him now. “He picked up the journal.” With sure fingers, I replayed the recording and Jenny bobbed her head.

“No wonder he asked me about you.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “I didn’t know who you were.”

He’s not a journal thief then. I just hope that he doesn’t read through my notes, but that’s highly unlikely to happen. People are naturally curious.

I stood, fixing my coat. Jenny and I were barely able to step out of the office without shoulder bumping. “Do you know where I can find this Mr. Valentin?”

Jenny shook her head. “I rarely see him in town.” A blush crept on her pale cheeks. “Not that I’m keeping an eye on him…” my brows shot up as we reached the customer’s lounge of the cafe. It’s late and there were only a few customers left, six to be exact, lost in their books, computers and cellphones.

She let out a breath, as if surrendering. “He’s a total eye candy so I wouldn’t miss him if I saw him, you know.”

I totally agree with her. He had that allure in him that would make anyone do a double-take. A total head-turner, but I don’t have to say that out loud.

“All I know is that he owns the Vitale Estate.”

“Vitale Estate?”

“Yeah, the one south of Salvatore Hills. It’s up the mountains and no one ever goes there.” She visibly shivered at the thought that crossed her mind.

I’ve heard stories about that place. Some say the spirits of the people that died in the fire that burned the woods back in the 1900s haunted it. While others say that demons lurk around the estate, trapping people who dare to enter its premises.

I hummed, thanking Jenny for her help.

It’s not a question of whether I believe in spirits or demons, but I believe I need that journal, so I found myself taking the route south towards Vitale Estate.