03- Go On a Date

I throw a fake coughing fit, showing how sick actually I'm. To top it off, I shake my body in a way to make it look like I'm shivering in the cold.

Sheepishly, I turn my eyes to the nonchalant man sitting in front of me without showing any sign of care. Either he is a heartless jerk, or my acting isn't fooling him. Well, fuck him. I've won an award for my spectacular acting skill in elementary school for portraying the feelings of a dying tree to perfection. He is just a heartless jerk.

I add another coughing fit to catch his attention. I've known him for 3 years. I know he is a persistent son of a bitch. But who knew he would turn out to be so shameless to abuse my calling bell to the extent that it forced me to open the door and invite him inside.

“Cold and cold drinks don't go well together, now do they?” Mr.Cruz looks at the clear plastic cup that's holding my cola with a smirk.

I shrug my shoulders. He is getting on my nerves. What the fuck does he want?

“Didn't know you had a medical degree.” I fire at him, my voice isn't exactly polite given that I'm talking to my boss.

“If I needed to get a medical degree to know something that requires just common sense, I wouldn't be running a multi- billion dollar company, would I?”

I clench my jaw for my own stupidity. The fact that he knows he is right and that's why he asks obvious questions never fails to get on my nerves.

“But maybe that could teach you why you shouldn't visit a person who has a cold and who has certainly applied for a sick leave.” I give him a lopsided smile.

He appears to be in a pensive mood. It would look sexy only if he weren't mocking me. The delusional part of me which thought he was here to get on his knees and propose his love for me is now hiding at the far corner of my mind, dying of cringe and promising to never make an appearance again. It's clear he is here to do something entirely else. And maybe that something has something to do with me kissing him last night.

“You sent your application half an hour later. Work starts at 8.30.” He looks as if he is teaching a complete idiot the concept of time.

“Get to the point, Mr.Cruz. You aren't here to check up on me out of the goodness of your heart, are you?”

He crosses his leg over his other one, staring at me with an unready expression.

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Thank you.” He says instead, pushing my buttons further.

“Great of you to make a sick person make your coffee. Do I need to sneeze into it instead of creamer to make it worth you visiting my shabby house?” I murder under my breath, already getting up.

What's wrong with me? I've never really talked to him this way before. What gave me the liberty to behave in this way? Is it because I have no fear of getting fired now? No. It must be his nonchalant behavior. It's weird how he lets my bratty behavior slide.

“If that makes your coffee drinkable.” His voice is so cold and careless that I'm sure if he is joking or has a kink for sneezes in his coffee.

I leave him on my living room couch, sighing on my way to the kitchen. Owen was probably high on crack or was pulling my leg when he said Cruz was smiling from ear to ear. He looks like a smile is a disease which will never affect him.

I know he is here with an agenda of his. There's no way he would be here without any reasons. Usually, he has his early morning meltdown about any unlucky employee pushing his button and then he buries himself in his meetings. Not to mention how he likes to bury me three feet underground with paperwork as well. My hands start to tremble as I start brewing his coffee as my mind races to find any explanation. I can feel something going down. The fact that his giant ass is sitting on my couch while he checks out my untidy house makes me feel uncomfortable.

“It won't help to judge my house, Mr.Cruz. You don't pay me enough to get myself checked by a psychiatrist every week after dumping workload on me to be able to keep my home tidy.” I mumble under my breath.

I'm going down anyway. Why not just roast him slightly along the way.

“Your house is…..” looking around, he answers, “Nice.”

Now. I expected a nasty remark from him. His smart mouth is what got him the reputation of the corporate devil. He is gonna leave me surprised at every step today, ain't he?

I decided to seal my mouth and stop myself from saying anything. As I watch the back of his head like a hawk, I realize he shifts in his seat from time to time. Is the great Mr.Cruz nervous? Given the situation, I should be the nervous one. He is really messing with my head today.

“Is there any adequate amount of sneezing?” He asks as soon as I hand him his cup of coffee, his monotonous voice making it hard for me to understand his tone.

That's the problem with Cruz. You never understand what he means when he talks. It's like you are talking to someone who replies to you in bold letters every time and follows the rules of punctuation by heart. Yeah. He is hard to understand.

“Why don't you find out?” I give him another lopsided smile before reclaiming my seat.

“Now that we are done with the creamiest coffee, let's go down to business.” Cruz says, putting the empty cup on the table in front of him.

Now it's my turn to squirm in my seat. What the fuck does he mean?

His hand fishes around the inside pocket of this jacket and brings an envelope before gently placing it on the table.

I gulp down visibly, worrying what I might find in the envelope. What's he playing at?

The delusional part which was hiding up until now, makes a quick entrance by making an appeal that Mr.Cruz got addicted to my kiss and is willing to pursue me for a contract marriage as if I were the female lead of some soap opera.

“I would like to tell you that I'm on a sick leave, Mr.Cruz.” I'm glad that my voice didn't give away my nervousness.

“I'm perfectly aware of that.” He sounds as monotonous as usual, “It's personal, not business.”

My heart starts to beat faster than a lamborghini. My delusional mind is generating all the stupid pictures in my head, making it impossible to assess the situation like a rational woman. I'm getting too excited rather than scared. Alright, how do we get rid of our delusional part?

I appear to be blank and nonchalant but my act is not fooling his hawk-like eyes. My act is cracking down as I take the envelope with trembling hands.

A frown makes its way to my face as I read the content of the envelope.

“And what am I looking at?” I question him, adopting his very own monotonous tone.

“One day of sick leave, albeit a very late sick leave, and you forget how to read?” I want to wipe the smirk off of his face.

However, the best I can afford is to roll my eyes at him.

“Why am I looking at your laundry bill?” I ask, confused as to what he wants.

“I suppose the alcohol in your system hasn't properly left yet.” A blush creeps into my cheek as he directly talks about my drunken state.

“Why don't you talk like a normal person, Mr.Cruz?”

“Very well.” He sighs as if I'm the one who is tiring him. The audacity!

“I had to give my perfect clothes to the laundry. Perfect clothes which had to suffer because of the vile looking stuff coming from your mouth. Apparently, kissing your boss forcefully isn't your strongest soldier.”

I don't dare to meet his eyes. I'm not even strong enough to check myself out in the mirror. I must be redder than a ripe tomato.

Now that he has brought up the topic, my mind finally hits me with another bit of incident. My head hurts as I try to remember. My eyes widen when I realize how I vomited on Cruz when he tried to get me to my bed. Fuck. My eyes, once again, fly downwards to my clothes reminding me of something else.

“While I agree that it was wrong of me to vomit on your expensive clothes, it wasn't right on your part to change my clothes, Mr.Cruz!” I ask in such a formal tone that it feels like I'm reading out an official email.

He merely raises his eyebrow at my accusation, not even finding the need to change his comfortable posture.

“I'm afraid I'm failing to follow. Changing what?” He appears genuinely confused.

Oh no! Who was it then?

He seems to understand what kind of internal monologue I'm having inside my head. Sighing once again, he starts to speak, “You changed your own clothes while singing a funny song in a totally toneless voice. Ring a bell?”

Yeah, it totally does. Now, I remember how I went all lady gaga and sang nonsense while changing myself after vomiting on Mr.Cruz. Fuck. If I were him at that time, I would choke myself to death and stop the terrible singing.

“Ummm….Mr,Cruz.” I find no words to speak.

What can I say? Clearly, a sorry wouldn't cut it. I did more than one damage.

He doesn't let me finish and keeps his phone on the table, in front of me to watch a video he played. It's the CCTV footage of his home and the video shows how I kissed him while I was drunk.

God damn! Is it my end? Is he gonna sue me for kissing him? Am I going to jail?!?

Taking his phone away and tucking it in his pocket, he calmly threatens, “Now. Do you realize what you did, Miss Brown?”

All of a sudden I feel too thirsty. I need to get away before my throat becomes drier than Sahara itself.

“What do you want?” I sound fearful which makes him smirk. Bastard!

“Nothing fancy.” His words aren't enough to reassure me.

“Spit it out.”

“Well, I want you to go on a dinner date with me.”

I look at him as if he has grown horns on his head. What. The. Fuck. Does he think he is being romantic? Who in their right mind would threaten someone to go on a dinner date with them? Maybe he is too Prideful to let go of his ego and just ask me out nicely. Whatever it is, the situation is going over my head. That must be the weirdest thing he has ever said to me.

Despite this, my heart starts beating fast and anticipation nests in my chest.

“That's the weirdest-”

“And unimpress my grandma.”