Chapter 1
“I’mma sit on them lumps, learn from me, Cia,” my Afro-American friend, Kelly proudly notified me as she feasted her eyes on the stunning men who graced the Hollywood wedding reception we’re currently in.
I thought I should dress simply for the event so that I wouldn't offend the bride in any way. I also wasn’t a part of the entourage, so I went with my beige slip-on dress and black, heeled pump, which earned a glorious frown from my beloved friend Kelly earlier.
I couldn’t blame her. We had a very different fashion statement as she intentionally flaunted a provocative, black, see-through dress that perfectly fit her curvy body.
Kelly was my literary agent years ago when I was still into publishing books. Now, I was currently working as a film writer for the groom, Matthew Watts, but Kelly remained as my friend.
Now, I had to bear with her dragging me into this improved version of the parlor game, Trip to Jerusalem, wherein we, maidens, have to dance to the music as we spin around and compete for the hot seats when the music stops.
There was a catch. There were bachelors, mostly celebrities and tycoons, that were seated on each chair. So, once the music stops, we actually have to sit on a bachelor’s lap. And that was what making my friend giddy at the moment. There were about thirty hot men whom we could choose from and twenty-one maidens who had to compete for the hot seats.
“Who are we looking at?” I whispered in her ear, curious as to who her prey was for tonight.
She grinned from ear to ear before she responded to me. “Waden,” she replied timidly.
“Oh, I see.” I nodded in support. Waden Reynolds was a hot, indie actor, and a well-known philanderer. And my girl, Kelly, loves a walking red flag the most. So, I fully support her, since she said she was currently in an open relationship.
She turned to look at me, brows furrowing. “And who’s the lucky guy?”
I just shrugged at her. I hadn’t inspected the men yet.
“What ‘ya waiting for, my girl?” she taunted me.
However, before I could even take a sweep at the men, the music started and the maidens started moving.
Kelly was eliminated after three rounds, but she had successfully achieved her goal. I just saw her disappear in the crowd with Waden.
I was momentarily hurt when she forgot about me. But, of course, I should enjoy the game myself since I was an athletic and competitive person, though I felt so uncomfortable sitting on a stranger’s lap, especially when the men threw me their most sensual glares.
Like this balding American I recently sat on, who purposely wrapped his arms around my waist, and when I scowled at him, he just tightened his grip on me. Luckily, the host urged us to stand and dance as the next round began. That kind of saved the man from my retaliation.
The maidens, apart from me, lively danced to the pop music as we circled the men. My gaze darted to Matt who was on stage. He beamed at me as I weirldy pranced all over the place.
He knew very well that dancing was not my cup of tea. I could sing, I could even act, but I chose to become a writer where I could enjoy my peace of mind at most times.
I was good at sports: volleyball, tennis, swimming, name them all, and these were my means of destressing since middle school.
Back to the game, there were only four remaining women and three men. Unfortunately, the balding American wasn't eliminated yet. One of the remaining men was a Mexican musician, Juanito Pelaez; the other was probably a Korean national whom I hadn’t seen yet in my life. I doubted he was an actor because I almost knew every single actor in Korea, because yeah, I'm into Korean men.
Anyway, the Korean was impressively sporting a dark gray suit with a black shirt, bow, and shoes. I squinted my eyes as I gawked at him. He looked reserved and nonchalant. Now, I wonder how he got himself into the game; a friend like Kelly was my best guess.
I couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought that I was in the same room with him. Truthfully, I find Korean men better than Hollywood stars— probably because I’m an Asian too, a half-Filipina specifically.
While ogling him, I noticed that he had smooth and fair skin, and his oval face was clean-shaven, and the bangs of his dark brown, under-cut hair were elegantly parted. He had monolid eyes. He wasn’t as buff as the normal men I see here in Hollywood, still, his body exuded strength and somewhat— fervor. He looked hot even while sitting, but I think he’d look best if I was sitting on top—
Wait? What the hell am I thinking?
And as if on cue, he turned to look at me, and I practically avoided his gaze just in time. I hoped he didn’t see me ogling him.
