3.

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the blank, white page, watching the cursor blink on and off waiting for words to fill the empty space. The tour was finally over after three tedious weeks and my mind was exhausted, too exhausted to think. I needed sugar; chocolate! I began to crave it… I needed it now.
I shut my laptop, got up and stretched. My legs were stiff from sitting and I realised as I began to walk, that I had a cramp in my thigh. I limped over to the kitchen counter where I last set my purse down, grabbed it and hopped towards the door, I reached for my jacket, took it off the hook and put it on; I was excited to get out.
I inhaled the air as it lightly brushed my face; the freedom of being on my own always smelt sweet. I hobbled down the stone steps, my cramp mistaking my thigh muscle for a chew toy, and looked west at my baby blue Volkswagen Bug, I had bought second hand from Steph’s cousin Coraline. It was in really good condition, since she only owned it for a year and drove it when she got bored of her BMW. I felt really bad for it though, I hadn’t used it in almost two months; it’s not my fault that there’s a grocery store, pharmacy and bakery only a couple streets away. Maybe I’ll take it for the hour long drive into the city next weekend; I’ll make a shopping trip out of it. I need to update my closet anyway.
Oxford greeted me with a soft neigh as I continued down the narrow road. It had been five months since I had last seen him. The caretaker took him away in a red trolley when winter began, another reason for my agitation during the wretched frost, I smiled wholeheartedly at my white stallion and it zealously shook its head and continued walking along with me, stopping only to nibble at something that caught his attention in the grass, then look my way and continue trotting. He was such a peculiar horse, I knew he could jump that fence if he wanted, but I guess he was happy and I agreed; why would you leave such a magnificent place. He walked with me till the end of the fence as he always did, then softly neighed goodbye and turned going about his business. I giggled to myself and shook my head; such a strange horse.
By the time I walked onto the cobbled street my cramp had subsided. The cool air felt exhilarating on my face. The sun beamed down and awoke the dead being inside me. I felt more human than zombie now that I was among people, but the craving for a dark, rich brownie, gnawed at my stomach, and I quickened my pace to Roma’s bakery.
 ​I turned on to the familiar street and walked swiftly to the end where the bakery stood. I came here so often that I think I could make it to my house and back blindfolded. I pulled open the glass door and entered the air conditioned dessert paradise. The smell of fresh baked confections enticed my senses and I felt a little dazed. The first thing that caught my eye was the satin smooth dark icing that covered a triple layer, German chocolate cake that was sitting on the counter. My mouth filled with saliva as I was tempted, but I reluctantly resisted and stuck to what I came for.
  “Hey Peter, one brownie please,” I said to the tall, scrawny boy behind the counter who looked as exhausted as I felt. His black hair was always slicked down, combed neatly to the left side, but today it was in disarray as if he just got out of bed and the deep purple stains beneath his eyes suggested he was involved in a fight the night before.
 “Coming right up,” he replied with a croaky Italian accent. He wasn’t cheery today as he usually was, and although I was curious to know what happened to him, I empathised towards his emotion and didn’t convey small talk. He placed the decadent treat into a little white paper bag and handed it to me with a faint smile. “That’ll be four fifty.” I placed a five dollar bill on the glass counter, flashed a half-hearted smile and said keep the change. He grabbed the money off the counter, keeping his head down. I realised he wasn’t going to say anything more, so I turned and walked out the front door with my favourite desert, which I couldn’t wait to devour with a hot cup of tea.
 
 ​As I turned left back up the street, I was fighting with my wallet which didn’t seem to want to return to my overly clustered purse. What could I possibly have in here? As I searched, I found three lip-glosses that I never used, a pack of wet-ones - no dry-ones, two nail files, the Diary of Anne Frank, no idea how that got in there and… ouch! Something solid crashed into me. I stumbled back but was caught by a warm hand that pulled me forward, and I regained my balance. I looked up to see my movie prince’s green eyes staring back at me. I studied his face, thinking this has to be a mirage. My mouth went dry when I saw his lips move. He was saying something, but it wasn’t clear, his voice sounded distorted as though my ears were submerged in water. Then, his face became rapidly blurry before me, and my knees went weak, everything turned dark.
 ​I began to dream. I felt soft fingers tapping lightly on my cheek then, he reappeared, surrounded by a golden glow. The blood in my veins ran hot as his jade eyes fixated on me again. He smiled showing his perfectly straight, white teeth. I was transfixed. I immediately blushed and looked down. Then I felt warm fingers light on my chin as he raised my head to look into his eyes. He gently stroked my cheek with the back of his index finger and my body went numb and I closed my eyes.  
 “Mmmm,” I moaned and my body temperature elevated. His soft voice then echoed in my head, clear as if his lips were near my ear.
 “Hello, please wake up,” he said. “Open your eyes. Please open your eyes.” The sweet sound was spellbinding, the closest I ever felt to Adam. His touch was always like a gentle breeze on my skin, but now I could actually feel the heat from his fingers as he touched me. Why on earth would I want to wake up from this ecstasy?
​ I kept my eyes closed despite his pleads; I didn’t want this dream to end, and lose this luxurious warmth that was slowly spreading through me.
 I felt happy, it was a happiness I never knew I could feel, the type of happiness that only existed at the end of the movie, when the guy finally falls for the girl and they live happily ever after.
 “Open your eyes Iris. Please trust me,” his voice sounded different now, still smooth but more like a whisper, the way it always sounded when I dreamt him. My mind was disoriented. I opened my eyes and his adorably handsome face was still there, but an intense bright light pierced my iris’s and I closed them again. I sighed and I felt his finger continue to gently sweep my cheek. I lifted my hand to join his, but his touch disappeared. I reached for him, but felt nothing.
 “Adam!” I called but no sound came out. It was like my volume was on mute.
 “Open your eyes, you need to wake up,” said his voice again. But this time it wasn’t an echo it was real as though he was standing next to me. My hands searched for him, but again there was nothing to hold on to. Confusion and anger eradicated my happiness. I yearned for the comfort of his face. I begged him to return, but my cries were lost in deep silence.
   “Wake up. I don’t want you here anymore,” the whisper of an echo hissed throughout subconscious. His voice was far, too far for me to find.
  “No,” I retorted in my muted voice. But there he didn’t respond. He was gone. The darkness was diminishing. I screamed don’t go but there was nothing, my voice was choked. Only quiet and fading black existed in this newly turned nightmare.  
 ​My eyes burned as tears began to form, but it was held back when my body began to shake. What’s happening to me? Am I having a subconscious seizure? My brain felt dislodged. I was swimming in a pool of confusion. Several voices circled in my head.
 “Is she dead?” said voice number one.
 “No she’s just making a scene,” said voice number two. “See she’s peeking; I bet she could hear everything we’re saying. Girls these days, they‘d do anything for attention.”
 “Would you two hags be quiet,” said a third voice. “I happen to know this girl.”
Then a hand that felt cold and rough, not comforting at all, was feverishly tapping my face. A deep, hoarse voice, that matched the third, ringed in my ear.
 “Wake up Miss Iris,” he said. At the same moment a car horn beeped loudly in my ear and I forcefully opened my eyes. Bright light streamed past my eye lids, stinging my cornea causing me to squint. I instantly felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. “Ouch!” I said as i touched the sensitive spot that was throbbing. I felt hard pavement beneath my back and as I looked around, I saw four pairs of feet circled around me. What the hell? Where am I?
 “Ah, there we go,” said the croaky voice in an Italian accent. I looked up to see a long white apron in my view. As I glared higher, I saw the same face from the bakery.
 “I was just about to call the ambulance to come get you,” said Peter holding a small fog horn in his left hand. I looked around, my head still flooded with uncertainties. As I slowly gained a little momentum I realised that I was sprawled out on the sidewalk in front the bakery showcase window. I struggled to my feet at once but my actions were too fast and I wobbled a little.
“Whoa!” said a soothing and familiar voice behind me. I gasped. I’m awake, I can’t still be dreaming? I felt a warm hand grab my waist and steadied me. His touch was too real. It couldn’t be my sub conscious anymore. My mind was playing tricks on me. I turned my head to see this person, whose touch and voice impersonated my dream prince, but my face met with his chest.
He was tall, at least six inches taller than my five feet five inches, and he was well dressed wearing a black leather jacket which overlapped a blue t-shirt. He smelled good too, like familiar cologne. My eyes traced the lining of his jacket to his neck. It was long and spotted with a tiny round mole near his adam’s apple. Then I followed upwards, finally reaching his face and I suddenly lost my breath. My heart began doing aerobic flips in my chest. Could I be suffering from a case of paranoia? I must have hit my head when I fell or the angel of my dreams was haunting me!
 ​I released myself from his grip and turned by body to face his. There he stood, the beautiful being I gawked at on my computer screen and TV screen, but there was no screen in front of me now. This was real and unbelievable at the same time, as if he just jumped out of the TV and into the real world. Except he looked better, much better, if that was possible. First of all he was in 3D. His face showed a hint of a tan, not those fake orange spray tans, but a real tan as though he was at the beach a few days ago. His beautiful golden-russet hair was a little longer than I remembered, but still thick and slightly wavy. He combed through it with his hands, moving the strays that fell over his forehead and my breathing quickened as I caught sight of his indescribable emerald eyes.
 ​The modelesque face stared at me with a curious expression. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like. I struggled to control my bearings as he stared into my eyes. I wanted to touch him to assure myself that he was real, but my hand did not cooperate with my brain.
 “Are you okay,” he said with a voice that almost made me collapse to the floor again. When I didn’t answer he continued, “I brought some ice for your head, but maybe I should take you to the ER instead.”
Did he just offer to take me somewhere? Oh God, anywhere as long as I am in your company. I smiled to myself and rolled my eyes as I realised how obsessed my thoughts sounded. I opened my mouth to respond, but closed it again when I couldn’t find the right words.
 “Maybe she has a concussion,” said a husky voice behind me, which could only be Peter. I looked away from his eyes to search my surroundings. There were four people circled around me, including a plump, old lady with bright blue hair, who stood out the most and looked at me with disgust more than concern. I guess she was voice number two. There is no doubt that she still thinks I was faking. Another old chubby lady stood on her left and a cute little boy, about eight years old stood on her right. He turned around and ran away as I smiled at him. Typical. My eyes circled the area again; Wow, no paparazzi? That’s amazing. How did he manage to evade them? Finally as my bearings became intact, my eyes revolved to meet his again.
​His arms were folded and a crooked smile adorned his face. I suddenly felt the need to adjust my clothes and I had no idea what situation my hair was in, but I smoothed out what I could and tucked the strays behind my ears. I felt uneasy that he was staring at me; I didn’t know where to put me hands and for some reason my teeth wouldn’t let go of the iron grip to my lower lip.
 “You came flying around the corner. I didn’t see you till we collided,” said the 3D man, his doll- shaped lips moving with the melody of his voice. He rubbed his chest a little. Great! I meet the guy of my dreams and I injure him on the same day.
 “Um…,” he waved his palms in front my face and snapped his fingers. “Are you alright?”
Of course I’m not alright! I’m on the verge of insanity!
“What’s your name?” he continued.
My palms began to cold sweat as it always did when I was nervous. My teeth dug deeper into my lip. I felt my heart rapidly beating, like it was revving, ready to burst out of my rib cage and rip through my skin to flee from my body, and who could blame it I was facing its ultimate torture.
I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath; it flowed through my brain, clearing the congestion as I breathed out. I opened my eyes and saw his face waiting patiently for a response.
 “I-Iris,” I replied with a voice that sounded nothing like mine. It was granny-ish, like gravel was embedded in my throat. Embarrassed, I looked down, immediately swallowed the lump and tried to find my normal voice, which was probably hiding somewhere in my stomach.
After clearing my throat a couple times, I looked up and found his eyes again, but lost a little more of my courage in the process.
 “I-I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine now.” I said and I swallowed another lump that was forming. His forehead scrunched a little, his eyebrows almost meeting, then he smiled and shook his head and it smoothed out again.
 “Well maybe you should hold on to this just in case.” He handed me the ice pack.
 “Thank you,” I said trying to sound as smooth as I could and not like I was secretly hyper-ventilating. His face then suddenly dropped out of view, my eyes quickly following his movement. When I looked down to see what he was doing, I saw that my purse along with half it’s contents were scattered on the sidewalk. I cursed under my breath and bent down to help him, but he was on his way back up again, and using his words… we collided.
 “Ouch!” I yelped. He stood up and massaged the top of his head. Oh man! I injured him again. If this continues, he’ll be crippled before he could get home. “Are you okay,” I giggled. I don’t know why I was laughing, but I couldn’t help it, it just came out. Then I heard a symphony followed by a snort. He was laughing too.
 “I guess we both will be needing that ice pack now,” he chortled. I smiled and my heart revved louder, my chest was on fire.
“Are you okay?” his tone was sympathetic now.
“I-I’m fine,” I lied; my forehead was throbbing, competing with the exaggerated beats of my heart. I held out my hand to give him the ice pack, but he just shook his head and smiled. He bent down to pick up the last content from my purse.
 “The Diary of Anne Frank?” he said; the line between his eyebrows appearing again. I bit my already bruised lower lip and smiled. He placed it into my crammed bag along with the rest of the contents that tried to run away.
 “I have no clue how that got in there,” I shook my head and looked down.
 “Here you go,” he was holding out my purse for me.
 “Thanks,” I said blushing uncontrollably.
 “Whoops! Looks like we were only able to save one of you,” he said. I looked at him, and my eyebrows narrowed in response to my confusion. He walked past me, I turned around and saw him picking up a squished white paper bag.
 “Oh no,” I whispered. “How bad is it?” I scrunched my face realising how stupid I sounded talking about a brownie with such concern. He sniggered and opened the bag. He held up his hand when he saw I was moving closer. “I’m sorry but you shouldn’t be near this massacre miss.” His face was stern and threw the bag into the nearby bin. He then looked at me and smiled crookedly. I shook my head and laughed at how corny his joke was.
​Each second felt like an eternity. It was uneasy having so much to say, yet saying nothing. My eyes found my feet, the pavement, the bakery window, the stop sign at the right corner behind him and then his eyes, which were staring back into mine. I felt a sting in my chest as a wave of current escaped my heart, coursed through my veins, and released out of my pores. Blood rushed to my face and the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. I released his gaze and looked through the showcase window again. I could see Peter was back behind the counter attending to a customer and the two plump spectators were gone. Funny how being in his presence, I barely noticed the happenings around me.  
 ​It was hard avoiding contact with his eyes, but I had to, I don’t think my heart could take another hit without igniting.
 “So how about I buy you another brownie?” He asked. He was about a foot away from me now. The sweet smell of his cologne pierced my nose as a light breeze shuffled around us.
 “Um…okay.” He was already walking toward the bakery door before I could finish my sentence. I smiled as I followed him. He opened the door for me and that was it; my heart was ablaze now.
As we entered the bakery, I was happy to see that my ignominious sidewalk drama hadn’t prolonged any unnecessary attention. Peter hardly glanced at us and the two old ladies that were at the counter, including the blue haired old woman that hovered over my despicable unconscious body, didn’t even notice our entrance.
I started toward the counter where Peter stood, but Adam placed his hand to the small of my back, which induced electric tingles up my spine, and guided me past the dessert showcase to the seating area at the far south of the bakery. There were five small, white tables and he asked me to sit at the last one near the far wall.
 “Why don’t you have a seat while I get your brownie,” I heard him say, and his footsteps descended behind me.
I had never been back here before as I always take my treat home with me. It was warm and very secluded from the business in front, and the smell of freshly baked goodies was pungent in the air. I rested my hand on the back of the chair and looked back at the counter; Adam was standing patiently behind the two old women with his hands buried in the front pockets of his worn out jeans; he looked debonair like he was in the middle of a magazine cover shoot. A sigh escaped my mouth as his masculine beauty affected my internal temperature to rise to a near dangerous height of eruption. My lungs worked overtime pushing the hot air out in short gasps as I watched him shift his weight from one leg to the other; I wonder what thoughts were running through his mind, his face was emotionless, I couldn’t figure out his mood; the patience of getting to know him grew thinner and another sigh escaped my mouth and, as if he heard me, he turned and gave a smouldering crooked smile making my knees wobble. I gripped the chair tighter and returned a wavering smile.
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath; my body felt like a sumo wrestler’s with toothpick sized legs. I flopped my heavy weight on the chair, which was conveniently on the left side of the table facing the wall; it was better if I couldn’t see him right now. I stared at the painting that decorated the wall while I fought with my lungs to control my breathing. It was a beautiful interpretation of Paris in the summer. There were two people, a man and a woman, sitting on a red and white chequered print table cloth enjoying a picnic in the park and watching a breathtaking view of the Eiffel tower in the foreground. The sight of their elated faces made the illusion of Adam and me seem realistic. What was I thinking? I should definitely check myself into an insane asylum.
I shut my eyes tight, my arms around my stomach. The panic was catching up with me; I felt sick. I rested my head on the table; the cool linoleum helped a little, the queasiness was settling to the pit of my stomach. Then I heard the screech as the chair across the table dragged on the terrazzo floor.  
 “Hey are you okay?” He touched my arm with his fingertips and the sensation caused the almost invisible hairs to stand at attention. My stomach churned as the panic rose from the depths of my stomach again. I didn’t want to talk, I was afraid that I would throw up. Oh God, please don’t let him see me throw up! I kept my head on the table, my cold and sweaty palms on my lap catching the hot air as rapid breaths escaped my lungs.
 “Iris?” The sound of my name, as he said it, made me lightheaded. If this continues I may really need to be hospitalised. I breathed out deeply and dug out as much courage as I could. I sat up keeping my head down. I couldn’t look into his eyes; not yet. Instead my eyes found his hands; they were resting on top a flat square white box, his long lean fingers holding a tea saucer that carried my brownie.
 “Whew, I thought you fainted again,” I heard him say. “How are you feeling?” He bent down to look at my face, but I lowered my head further, my chin grazed my chest now.
 “I think I’m okay; just a little dizzy.” I forced to whisper this understatement.
 “Hey Peter, could I get a bottled water?” His voice ringed in the quiet causing my nerves to tremor. I saw his hand pointing to me and I heard the refrigerator door open and close. Seconds later, a pair of shuffling feet approached the table, and a Dasani bottle was placed in front of me. Adam took it and I could hear the crack as the seal was broken. He rested it back in front of me with a blue bendy straw sticking out of the cavity and said,  “Drink.”
 “Thank you,” I said my voice sounding thick. As I began to drink, the water flowed past my throat refreshing every inch of my heated chest. I didn’t realise how thirsty I was. I drank almost the entire bottle without stopping. When I was finished, I felt invigorated. The nausea had evaporated and I could finally breathe freely, but my bedazzled brain still couldn’t absorb the fact that he was sitting across from me.
 “Better?” he asked. I looked up slowly, giving my heart warning before my eyes met his. Butterflies tickled my stomach as I saw his face again. He smiled and the butterflies fluttered violently causing blood to flush my face.
 “Much,” I replied softly.
He handed me the white saucer. I inhaled the chocolaty goodness, then pinched a piece of my brownie and placed it into my mouth. The sweet taste was comforting; it brought me back down to earth. Then a familiar smell tickled my senses; pizza? I looked across the table and saw that the white box was opened, and he was pulling out a slice of pie. He took a bite and placed it back into the box.
 “Where did that come from?” I asked, the curiosity silencing my anxiety. I knew that Roma’s didn’t make pizza.
 “Peter makes it for me,” he said. I looked at him with wide eyes. He answered my unspoken question. “When the craving hits, I usually take the hour and a half long drive to his father’s place down town,” he continued. “But when I told Peter this, he insisted that he can make the pies just as good as his father does, and he also made a good point that it was more convenient to come here instead, since he was just a half hour away from my apartment.” I watched as he took another bite of his pizza, chewed, then swallowed. He leaned in towards me, his voice a mere whisper. My heart spiralled in my chest. “I think it has to do more with the feud between him and his father, than my convenience though.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t know Peter had a feud with his father,” I said, my voice as low as his. He nodded and took a sip of his coke, which I only noticed was on the table when he picked it up; then he replied.
 “I don’t know all the details, but one day, I casually asked Peter why he wasn’t involved in his father’s business, he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something angrily in Italian, so I let it go. But, a couple of weeks ago, I overheard a conversation between him and his girlfriend Eliza; she was pleading with him to go talk to his father. Apparently he recently asked her to marry him but she insisted on his family knowing.” He paused to take another sip of his coke. “He said that he was never confronting that good for nothing again…” he continued “…not until he accepts him for who he is and what he does. It seems his father wanted him to become something more than what he is; a baker of deserts.”
 I looked up at Peter; he was icing a cake and doing a terrible job as he was squeezing the pastry bag a little too tight; his face was painted with frustration, his eyes filled with worry. Eliza walked out of the back room, a tray of freshly baked cupcakes in her hands. Her red hair was tied up in a tight bun, her face was impassive. I caught a glimpse of her left hand as she placed a strawberry cupcake in the glass showcase, there was no ring. No wonder Peter had dark circles under his eyes; it looks like he was too stressed to sleep, and from the tension between him and Eliza, I don’t think there was going to be a wedding in the near future.
 ​Pity engulfed me as I saw the pain in Peter’s eyes, I turned away and broke off another piece of brownie and placed it into my mouth. Then, two short musical beeps startled me and I jumped in my seat. I looked up to see Adam grinning as he turned to his side trying to pull something out of his front pocket.
“What?” I asked. My eyebrows contracted as I smiled nervously.
“Nothing,” he said and he shook his head, his grin, a wide smile now.
The beeping grew louder as he pulled out his cell-phone; he glanced at the caller ID and with a quiet groan, he flipped it open and put it to his ear.
   “Hello,” he said his voice smooth, a little louder than a whisper. “I’m good man. How’s everything with you?” He sat there listening to the person on the other end of the call, his eyes on the pizza in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he continued after a few seconds of silence. He took a sip of his coke and his eyes found mine again. I flashed a kind smile and he returned a weary one. I dropped my head, retracting from his gaze and found interest in my hands instead.
   “Yeah, I remember… its Saturday right? Mmhm… what time again? Okay… yeah I think she’ll be there.” My attention was caught by the word she, my eyebrows raised involuntarily and I pressed my lips together hoping he didn’t see my reaction.
   “I have an audition tomorrow at two, well you already know that, and the photo shoot is at five I think…” he continued. “… I have to give Abril a call, but, I think I’m free after that. Actually a bunch of us were planning to meet up at Cedric’s… the cast I mean. Ha ha…you know me, once I taste it, it becomes morphine and I can’t get enough.”
My head was pulled up by an invisible string; my eyes wide. I knew Cedric’s vaguely, it’s a pub; very quaint and usually filled with thirty-something’s, it’s very intimidating, and whenever I pass by, which is not very often, there are always those type of girls dressed in exaggeratedly short, tight fitted dresses and knee high boots accompanied by at least one man on each arm, giggling and flaunting liquor like cotton candy in a three year olds hand; and, so, I never go there. But from his words, my intuitions told me he was very familiar; that didn’t appeal to me very much. I dropped my head quickly again, when I saw his eyes drifting to my direction.
 “Mmhm…Dean, calm down…yes of course I’ll be at the meeting, I purposefully left that out for my amusement.” He laughed wickedly, but the sound made my knees tremble. “Your panic is so predictable.” He went on. “Okaaay, I’ll see you bright and early in the morning, eight o’clock sharp. I mean it…I’ll be there… k, bye.” I heard the phone snap shut and it was my signal that it was safe to look up. “Sorry about that,” he said. I shook my head fervently.  
 “No, it’s fine.”
 “That was my agent. He could be a little annoying sometimes. He’s like my second mother,” he said, a faint smile appearing, then fading.  
 “Oh,” was all I could say. I didn’t want to be too nosy. He took a slice of pizza out of the box and began to eat. This gave me a chance to finish my brownie. After two pizza slices and five minutes of awkward silence and stolen glances, I had finished my brownie. He pushed the pizza box to the side and folded his arms on the table, leaning in ever so slightly. His masculine face was soft and adorable now. His olive eyes narrowed, scrutinising me. I lost my breath again and hiccoughed when it resurfaced. He snickered.
 “So… I know you love chocolate and I assume you like to read, because not everyone carries around a novel in their bag, and you get startled at every little noise, and your name is Iris… what else can you tell me about yourself. His eyes were penetrating. My heart jumped into my throat and I lost all train of thought. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me, my life is so boring compared to his sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle.
 “Um…well, what would you like to know?” I said my voice cracking with every word. His hand was propped beneath his chin now, his index finger touching his bottom lip. I could feel my heart beat throbbing at my temples.
   “Where are you from originally? You have an unfamiliar accent.” His voice was soft, slow, somewhat musical. I pressed my lips together, swallowing. There was nothing, my mouth went dry; I took a sip of my water all the while fighting with my brain to choose wise words. Then it all came out in one droning, garbled story.
 “I was born in Trinidad and I lived fifteen years of my life there, then after my father was offered a better, higher paying job, we moved to New York. I lived in Bay Ridge with my parents for seven years. I finished school, then went on to study creative writing during that time. After two years, I received my diploma and went on to work at a library. During the day I stacked books, during the night I wrote them. Then, after a year and a half of rejection, finally, my first children’s book was published; I was ecstatic, and I realised I found a career in writing. So I continued down that path and I now have four books under my belt. They are not widely popular, but they pay the bills…” Adam was enveloped in my words; he didn’t take his eyes off me, not even to look up when Eliza dropped a series of pans in the back room. But he laughed when I almost jumped out of my seat at the noise.
 “... Living with my parents was very fulfilling,” I continued. “I love them to death, but I craved independence. My editor and my agent both lived in England and, since I was a child I’ve always wanted to live here. So with the help of my editor I found a place and moved here a couple years ago. My parent’s cried buckets, but they finally got over it. They come to visit me from time to time, and we spend the holidays together.”
As I finished with my boring life story, editing out the un-necessaries of course, I waited for the questions. He breathed out deeply and ran his tongue over his lower lip. The lion purred and I breathed out deeply.
 “Wow…so Trinidad, what was that like? Living there I mean,” he said after a few long tense seconds of intense scrutiny. His eyes heated my face like a flame to metal; I was self conscious of every move; even my blinking was off.
  “Um… it was great. I loved it there. It’s a very small island, so in a way it was secluded from the rest of the world, which was comforting. The people were very warm and so was the climate, which I yearn for sometimes…” He smiled crookedly and I blushed and stared at the empty white saucer in front of me; I could still feel his eyes on me, but the heat dissipated a little and it was easier to talk.  “…it’s so cold here, even during the summer, the weather is nothing like Trinidad’s,” I went on. “There are some similarities though, like the architectural landscape, some of the old buildings look so familiar to the ones back home.” I flinched at the word home, I haven’t called Trinidad that since I lived there. Nostalgia spread through me and I fought back my tears.
 “There are also the breathtakingly beautiful beaches, flora, and Carnival…” I continued.    
 “It’s the most colourful, energetic and musical experience. And the food… you can’t get that anywhere else. There are imitations of course, but nothing compares to the real thing, so I have to cook, whatever I crave, myself.
 “Then, there’s the one person I miss the most; my grandmother. I was very close to her, I hated leaving her but… I had to follow the direction my life was heading and also my parents dragged me along with them. I visited her once since I moved here though. I didn’t tell her I was coming, so she almost dropped to the floor when she saw me and I thought her tears would never stop flowing.”
I looked at my hands now, ensuring that he couldn’t see my face as my grandmother’s angelic visage distracted my thoughts. I haven’t spoken of her in what seemed like forever; it ached to the core of my bones to think of her. Water filled my eyes again, but this time one drop escaped its wall and streamed down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly and clenched my teeth as I fought the pain. I breathed out deeply and the present floated into view again.
 ​I looked up at Adam. “And…that’s about it,” my voice sounded weak and drained. I grabbed the water bottle, tilted it a little and forced the remaining drops out with a giant slurp; the sound troubled the quiet like rolling thunder. I kept my head down to hide my embarrassment.
The door bell jingled breaking the quiet once more and took me off the hook of shame; it gave me the opportunity to look at him again. Adam leaned back in his chair closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his russet locks. Seeing him as a human, than a captured expression on my computer screen was uncanny but became a bit easier now that there was a certain familiarity; it was remarkably easy talking to him. I never once thought I would have been able to get a word out in his presence, but I had been rambling on like a six year old and he listened tentatively to every tedious word.

As he opened his eyes and brought his hand back down to the table, he said nothing, he just stared into my eyes. But this time it was different, it was piercing, I felt as though he could see into my soul and, like a reflex, my heart jump started in my chest and revved loudly; I swear Peter must be hearing it. The seat suddenly became uncomfortable as it seems I was putting on a one man show.
Boiling blood rushed to my face, as my chest rose and fell; I hated that he had this power over me. He bit his lower lip and gave a sly smile. Oh God what are you doing to me? My chest rose again and I had to break the silence or I would completely lose it and jump over the table, kiss him, then run like crazy, crashing through the glass door and fleeing to a country where crazy people live freely; that’ll sure provide Peter with his daily dose of gossip for the month
“So are you working on anything new?” I breathed out this stupid question as my eyes dropped to his navy t-shirt. I shook my head sheepishly, but I was saved again when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and his eye brows rose as he quickly pressed answer.
   “Hey Reed, what’s up?” he said in his soft soulful voice. Reed, that’s a guy’s name right? If he talks to guys like that, then I wonder how his voice sounds when he’s talking to a girl he likes.
   “Shoot, I totally forgot…you’re outside… man you know me too well…okay, I’ll see you in two.” He put the phone in his pocket and looked at me again.
   “I’m really sorry, but that was my mate, he’s right outside. I forgot we had a cricket game at one and it’s already quarter to.” He rose from his chair forcing my neck to crane to see his face. Just like that, a moment in heaven could end; I felt enormous pins pricking at my heart.
 “It was really nice crashing into you, I hope we could do it again sometime,” he said and he held out his hand for me to shake. I stood up and as he cupped my hand into his, a massive war of tingles on steroids, broke out inside me. I wanted so much not to let go and ask him to stay, to linger this moment, but I faced reality and let go.
   “It was nice meeting you too,” I said a little louder than a whisper. I looked up at his face just to capture this last image of him; his cheeks were a little pink, it seems he was really excited about cricket. We stood there for a few uneasy seconds smiling with each other then, unable to withstand my heartache, I turned and grabbed the pizza box from the table and handed it to him.
   “Cold pizza, sustenance for after the game.”
   “Thanks,” he said. I couldn’t find the strength to look at him again. I looked out the front door and there was a black car sitting in the street, a guy with sunglasses peering right back at me; I quickly turned my head back to Adam’s chest.
   “Well I guess you should go.”
   “Yeah, well… bye.”
   “Bye.” He turned and I watched as he walked out, my heart throbbed with every step he took. I turned and slumped back into the chair; I am definitely going to need another brownie. I grabbed my purse from the chair next to me, and as I stood I heard the door bell jingle, I looked excitedly for his face, but it was just Peter sweeping the dust outside; the black car was gone. I shook my head at how naïve I was to think that he’d come back.
​
As I walked out the bakery, my other brownie safe in my purse, I watched the spot where I collapsed, the spot where we crashed as he so gracefully put it, then I felt a light tap on my shoulder, I turned my head to the right and my breath got caught in my throat again as the black jacket blurred past my eyes and was now blocking my path. I looked up and smiled with confusion.
   “Didn’t you leave?” I said. He smiled and I almost fell over when the wind blew.
   “I did leave, but then I realised that I forgot to ask you one crucial question,” he said.
My eyebrows knitted together and I shook my head. Crucial? What in the world did he want to ask me, if I was a terrorist?
   “Could I have your phone number?” I couldn’t help it a beaming smile widened my face.
   “Um, of course.” I put out my hand. “Give me your phone,” I said almost giggling and he placed his black Motorola phone in my opened hand. I stored my number and handed the phone back to him. I grabbed one last deep look into his emerald eyes, and I swore I saw his cheeks turn pink again. Did I do that? Could I possibly have made him blush?
   “Um,” he cleared his throat. “I better go before Reed kills me for making us late.”
   “Okay,” I said.
   “I’ll call you.”
   “Mhmm.” I shook my head and my eyes widened as his face was almost red now. I guess he didn’t do this a lot; that was good to know. He ran to the waiting car, got in and then it sped off up the road, stopping at the corner then, turning right as it squealed out of sight.