Chapter 7- The kiss

Aiden

"Wait, what?" she inquired. She shook her head, noticing my deplorable condition, and said, "Please accept my apologies. Are you all, right?" She seemed to be truly concerned.

I grumbled, "You damaged my favourite shirt."

Her smile became shaky.

"You were blocking my path. I didn't intend to run into you." She stubbornly crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at me. Feisty. I loved feisty. "I said sorry," she said. I blocked her again as she made a move.

I told her, "Sorry, it isn't enough."

Her lips were stunning. Just a whiff of those cherry lips was enough to drive a man insane.

I said, "It's not fair, I lost a shirt, and you lost your coffee."

"So, you'd like me to go out and purchase you a shirt?" Her gorgeous eyes enlarged as she was taken aback.

"No, I'll buy you a cup of coffee." I made an offer.

She locked her gaze on me for another minute before tilting her head to one side, revealing her neck to me. I wanted to kiss it.

"I'm OK; I don't want any coffee."

She finally said and walked away. I took a step in front of her and blocked her path once more. Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed, and I could tell she was looking at me with distrust.

"I insist. It's just a cup of coffee, after all." I said calmly.

I was trying to be charming in every way possible. My senses were heightened so that I could persuade her to accept my offer. For a little time, everything seemed to be in order until she looked me in the eyes. Those enigmatic emerald eyes appeared to be hiding something. It was teeming with repressed feelings. They returned my stare, attempting to figure out who I was. She was deliberating, evaluating, and drawing conclusions. She finally exhaled deeply and narrowed her eyes.

"That's fine, given your tenacity. You can buy me a cup of coffee, but I'm not going to buy you a shirt. You got in the way, and we're both to blame. I already apologised," she continued, "is that okay with you?""

Her accent suggested that she was an Australian. If I ever lost her again, I'd know where to look. Across the ocean on an entire continent.

"That's fine with me, Miss...?" I said with a smile and a cocked head to one side. I was waiting for her to say her name.

She instead returned to the coffee shop and approached the desk. My curiosity was piqued. My gaze was drawn to her swaying hips as I followed her. I wished I could have taken them in my arms.

She proceeded to the counter and joined the queue. Along with her, I waited. I turned to face her and gave her my most hypnotic smile. "Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

"You didn't catch my name since I never told you my name," she continued without even giving me a glance.

"It's not like I'm asking for your phone number or anything. I'm only asking for your name so I can blame you for destroying my favourite shirt."

"Give it to the laundry. They'd make everything right, " she fixed a hard blank stare at me.

"What if the laundry man inquired as to who did it?" I asked.

"Do you think I'm interested in what your laundryman has to say?" She turned to the counter.

"What can I get you, Sydney?" inquired the girl behind the desk.

"Just the usual, fast," she interrupted the girl in the middle of her statement. However, the damage had already been done. Her name was now familiar to me.

Before making her coffee, the girl behind the counter gave me a surprised glance and examined me outside.

Sydney swore under her breath before turning to face me. I had a grin on my face as I looked at her. "Is Sydney your name?"

"Don't call me that." The sound of her hissing at me was like music to my ears.

"How shall I refer to you, Sydney?" I inquired of her.

"You don’t need to call me anything. We are not friends." She clenched her jaw and peered over the counter to check if her coffee was on its way.

"Then what do you name those people who you spit steaming coffee on you?" I made a joke.

She raised her eyes to me. For a long time, we just stared at each other. The air surrounding us seemed to be electric. I had my heart set on her.

"Coffee girl?" I sarcastically asked. "Hot coffee girl?" I asked, grinning.

I gently raked her from her head, taking her into her piercing eyes, her wild hair, her hourglass body, and then back up to meet her gaze. She was enraged. It appealed to me.

Her eyes glowed with rage before she shifted her gaze to the counter. Her coffee was delivered. She looked at me after thanking the girl. I gave the girl my money and a generous tip. After all, she had given me her name. Sydney looked at the tip and made a sneering expression.

She drank a cup of black coffee. As she made her way to the exit, I grinned and followed her. She returned my stare, arched her brows, and scowled, "Now what?"

"I'm heading to the laundry," I explained innocently, "where I'll have to answer the laundryman's probing inquiries."

She came to a halt. "Even if I agree to buy you a shirt. I can't afford that pricey abomination you're wearing."

I've never heard anyone call my style or my clothing " anabomination." I admit they're pricey, but the way she said it made them seem much more so. I burst out laughing.

She glared irritably at me, cursed, and told me to follow her. We proceeded in the opposite direction to the coffee shop, along the streets. She walked quickly. Like a shadow, I followed her. My gaze was drawn to her back. She didn't even turn to see whether I was trailing her. She was most likely trying to lose me in the throng. The streets eventually thinned out, and I joined her on her walk.

"So, Sydney, you're an Aussie, right?" I inquired of her.

"Yes, and I'm not from Sydney; it's just my name, and no, we don't have kangaroos running about on the streets," she replied quickly.

I laughed once more. I stood there watching her sip her latte.

"What do you do?" I inquired.

"I'm a student of art." She murmured as she drew another swig of coffee. I guess she couldn't help herself from sighing quietly as the coffee filled her mouth, even though she was avoiding and ignoring me to the point of being rude. This young lady had a coffee addiction.

"Interesting, what kind of art are you talking about?" I inquired. I awaited her response.

"It's called digital art." She didn't even bother to look at me when she replied.

"Wow! I run a... business, and we're always on the lookout for talented digital artists." One of my winning cards was this one. When women learned who I was, they fawned over me.

She came to a halt and turned to face me. "That's fantastic news. Let's go in and get you a shirt now, shall we?" She cocked her head in the direction of the store in front of us. It was a boutique, one of those small, up-and-coming stores that popped up and then vanished. I followed her into the shop. The location was excellent. The interiors were basic, sleek, and modern, which I appreciated.

"Here," she said, bringing me back to the present. I locked my gaze on her. She was holding a shirt. The garment was excellent. It was almost identical to the cloth I was wearing and was well-stitched. I took it from her and began undoing the buttons on my shirt. I stood there watching her cheeks get pink. She saw that I was going to change ahead of her.

"This boutique has changing rooms," she explained.

Along with her, I made my way to the locker room. I smiled as I entered the changing room to get ready. Sydney was whispering to the girl behind the counter when I walked out. When I appeared, they immediately came to a halt. The blonde girl behind the counter expressed her unreserved admiration for me.

"It's perfect," she added, a flirty smile on her face.

"All right," Sydney murmured as she turned to pay for my shirt.

She walked away without a glance at me. I thought to myself, "What the hell?" and dashed at her. I dashed out the door and stood there watching Sydney pull into a side street. I moved in front of her and snatched her hand. I yanked her in my direction. She let out a loud gasp.

"What are you doing?" She screamed fiercely as she struggled to free herself from my vice-like grip on her wrist. "What exactly is your problem? You got the shirt? Let me go now.”

"What gives you the right to be so rude?" My macho ego was injured, so I shoved her against the alley wall, imprisoning her.

She screamed as I slammed her against the wall. She had a beautiful lilac scent. As I seized her wrists and imprisoned them above her head, her eyes widened in surprise. I'd completely lost it. Normally, I am not a combative person. This lady, on the other hand, had provoked me. She fought me valiantly, but it was in vain. I'd had enough of trying to persuade her with words. She wasn't easy to get, but I wanted her, and I was done being nice.

"What are you doing, let me go." She screamed at me, terrified. I leant down and took her face in my hands as soon as her mouth opened. A spark of electricity shot down my spine as I held her and captured her lips.

As my mouth devoured hers, she fit wonderfully against me. Her lips were both sweet and hot. I gave her a good kiss. My tongue raced into her mouth, capturing and conquering her essence. She sighed softly, and I roared with delight at having finally subdued her. For a long time, our mouths were at odds. The more I probed her, the more I wanted her. Soon my hands became lax, and my mouth drifted away from her. I realised I needed to get some air.

I lowered my gaze at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted and puffy, and her body was slack. Her eyes slowly opened, and she gazed up into mine. Suddenly, I felt a searing tinge on my right cheek after hearing an echoing snap. She had slapped me.

Her rage was visible in her eyes. She shoved me away from her and yelled, "You have no right to kiss me. Get away from me.”

She bolted away from me, running along the alley on the opposite side. While I stood there, speechless at what I had done.