Chapter 10

ROZETA:

It was almost like a dream. Maybe it was because I didn't realize I would be seeing him this soon. Or it could be that I was just so surprised to see him again.

The more I stared at him, the more I get flashbacks of that night. I could still picture the way he looked at me that night. Hell, he was giving me that same look at the moment.

Standing here and staring at him gave me the feeling that I was lost in my own world. Sounded like some fairytale which gave me the cheesy vibe as soon as I processed the whole thing.

It was clear he wasn't planning to walk up to me. And in no way was I going to stand and wait for who was going to make the first move while we both stand on the busy walkway. So I take the first step into reaching out because trust me, I have a lot of questions for him.

The weird thing about this is that even with the long distance between the two of us, I was still able to recognize him. He has seldom left my mind in the first place so I guess it was justifiable, wasn't it?

Anxiety seemed to overwhelm me as I moved closer to him. It was strange that he just stood there like nothing else in this world mattered. Piqued my interest that way.

The instant I was standing in front of him, I say, "So we meet again."

"Yeah."

I didn't think that hearing his voice would trigger a feeling in my heart. Almost similar to the feeling that came with hearing him speak to me for the first time at the nightclub.

I was short of words all of a sudden. I mean, this was unplanned. But then I had a lot of things to say to him. Why can't I say it now, though?

"Are you stalking me?" I finally utter the first sensible words I could think of.

His brows are raised all of a sudden as his face reflected nothing I could tell. "Does it look like I am?" is his response which was apparently a question thrown back to me.

"Well, I don't know. Because seeing you here feels like you are,"

The look he gives me afterward seems like he's checking me out. I don't have a problem with it but then my heart seems to be flustered by it. 'This isn't why you came over here, Rozeta!' I have to remind myself.

"Have you thought about the fact that I could be staying around here? Or about the fact that I could have made a run for it the instant I sighted you if I was indeed stalking you?"

He was calm all through his speech. And that demeanor seemed to be something that suits him even though it was clearly in contrast to his heavily built body. For a moment, I felt like I was accusing him wrongly.

I wasn't going to let that get to me as I say, "You chose not to run because you thought it was too late for that."

"You're not even considering the fact that I could have seen you long before you noticed I was standing here?"

I give him something close to the stink eye. "Is this supposed to be an interrogation between us?"

He shrugs. "You started the questioning. I was only following up based on how well I could respond to you," he states. "While we're going back and forth, can we both find a place to sit? Because it's clear to me that you have something to ask,"

"Apparently I do," and that was when I decided to turn to the side so I could have a look at the road.

I couldn't tell how fast it was but then I felt my body pulled into something with sheer force. I take a few seconds to get my head settled before I look up to take a look at who it is.

The stranger whom I was still in a conversation with was looking down at me with eyes filled with slight concern. It was really weird looking up at him from this angle. I have my back against him and my body was in direct contact with his.

I quickly adjust my position, freeing my body from his grip on my arm. I had to ensure I look away from him because in no way could I maintain eye contact with him at the moment.

"You almost bumped into someone," I hear him say from behind me.

"Yeah. Thanks," I said before adding, "Follow me."

That is when I move to cross to the other side of the road where a shed was located. It was an extension of a walk-in restaurant and seemed like the perfect spot to hold a conversation.

We were both on the other side of the road and were already sitting under the shed in no time. I'm surprised I can be well-composed in front of a man I had a fling with just over a week ago. I really need to check if the concussion was indeed not affecting my sanity.

"First what's your name?" I throw the first question.

He tilts his head to the side a bit. "Jax," he says, "Jax Reinhard,"

The name sounds awfully familiar. Like something belonging to a hotshot. I don't want to believe he's one even though he looks and carries himself like one.

"I guess this is where you tell me yours," he states, bringing my thoughts back to him.

"Rozeta," I say without further details. Not like it would matter.

"So, what's your question, Rozeta?" he asks, leaning back on the seat he's on.

I already generated the words in my head. But to spill it out was giving me a bit of a hard time.

He wasn't helping matters with the look he was giving me while I prepared to speak. If I had an idea what he was doing, I would say he was being flirty.

"Did you take me home after that night?" I manage to ask but it felt like the words were choked out of me.

He doesn't hesitate to nod. "Yes, I did," he says.

I clear my throat. "Well, the morning after, I found a note in my room. You wrote it, didn't you?"

He nods again before affirming with another "Yes."

"Sorry about last night..." I repeat what I remember from the note, "what was that all about?"

He looks like he isn't going to say anything to that. His body movement and everything made me think I would not be getting a response but then he asks a question that has me uneasy: "What do you remember from that night?"

I raise my brows at him. "Quite a lot. At least enough to recall your face."

"Can you tell me to which point you remember?"

I become unrelaxed in my seat. The question caught me off guard. Why would he throw such a question at me?

"You really expect me to answer that?" I ask him.

"Not all," he says, "Just the most significant details."

I have a clue what he's talking about but I'm still not comfortable about saying any details that regard the activities that had to do with that night.

I deliberated while looking at his face. Took me about two minutes but I finally decided to speak on the question. "The last thing I remember is you biting into my neck and giving me a bad scar which has mysteriously disappeared."

"That's what I'm sorry about."

The confusion that hits me after he says that was instant. It was strange that all the fuss I had about the note found in my room was because of the bite mark on my neck.

"That's it?" I have to ask for confirmation.

"Of course. I made a terrible mistake and had to apologize for it. So, yeah, that's it."

It still wasn't making sense to me. Nothing literally makes any sense at this point. "How did you get a note to write on then? Because I don't keep those with me," I say as I look for a means to clarify the situation.

"I always carry a collection with me," I watch him dip his hand into his pocket to bring out something similar to the note I found in my room. A whole collection as he said.

"Because you don't know which woman you're going to apologize to next, right?"

He gives a weird smile before putting the notes back into his pocket. "If that's what you think about me, who am I to disagree?" is what he says in response.

The real question I was going to ask him kept pushing against the walls of my mind but I was flooded with embarrassment from even thinking about it. It was okay that I maintained composure all through with him. I'm sure that won't happen again once I make the mistake of uttering that possibly important question.

He stands up from his seat a few seconds later. It was through that I was able to realize it was getting really dark.

"I'll be leaving now," he says.

"Do you really stay around here?" I ask him. I can't begin to imagine the horror of always having to encounter him before or after work.

"Who knows?" he says which doesn't answer the question in any way. "I'll be seeing you around, Rozeta,"

"I hope not," I whisper right after he turns his back on me. But he just might have heard that because he stares back at me briefly with a smirk quivered on his lips.