The Wrong Attraction

The first time I had seen him was a couple of hours ago when he–purposefully, I believe–brushed past me at the entrance. He was very quick to apologize and walked out of the scene without sparing a glance at the person he had almost run into. The second time, he took a seat at table three–my table, for what was five minutes or more, before ‘realizing’ he was slated to be somewhere else and exited my sight. And now, he was standing across the glamorously decorated hall, twirling his fingers around his glass of champagne, staring unabashedly at me.

And I sure as hell was staring back.

If I hadn’t known better, I would have said the previous ‘meetings’ were merely a coincidence. But I knew; he was trying to get my attention and dare I say, he had gotten it. Undivided.

Jensen, Henderson, Allison–I couldn’t care less what his name was–waved his hands in my face.

“It’s your turn, Mira Rosé,” he giggled with excitement, placing the wine goblet in front of me.

Reluctantly, I pulled my eyes away, from across the hall to stare blankly at them.

“Go ahead! Taste it.” It was the redhead lady grinning like a Cheshire cat that probed.

Through my peripheral vision, I looked across the room. His gaze was still on me.

How convenient.

Their eager eyes were on me as well as I lifted the glass to my lips, briefly placing it beneath my nose to catch the scent, before taking a sip. I was a little dramatic, but not because of those pairs of five eyes gaping at me. I let it roll on my tongue for a second or two, before swallowing.

It was strong; very strong.

“Ummm. . .” I started, looking briefly at each one of them. “It smells like tree fruit. Melon probably. It tastes like Raspberry, and. . .star apple? Avocado maybe?”

Jensen’s brows furrowed, the lady who had been grinning like a Cheshire cat wore a perplexed expression on her double-chinned face.

“Orange maybe? In a mixture of fermented strawberry, and fresh mango juice.” I finished with a beautiful smile of mischief plastered on my thin face.

They exchanged looks with one another and the paper the moderator was holding.

“It's a Cabernet Franc!” Allison cried out. “How can one wine have that much fruit in it!? On the bright side, you got the strawberry right."

“And the raspberry.” The redhead added.

Again, they burst out in laughter.

I placed a couple of hundred bucks on the table. I came–out of my convenience. I saw–hopefully I can unsee, especially the man who had his face painted with poster colors in disguise of makeup. I tasted–delicious wine by the way, and I failed–even though I knew too well what it tasted like. I just wasn’t in the mood to play their game anymore.

I was practically raised to drink wine every day, so I had a pretty good knowledge of it. Today, I needed to acquire a piece of new knowledge, and that was about the adonis whose eyes have been glued to me the entire time.

“Excuse me.” I grabbed my purse from the table and stood.

“Leaving so soon?” Henderson asked.

“No. But I guessed wrongly which means I am out of the game. I’ll be back to see who won it, though.” Probably not.

“I put my money on Jameson. His taste buds are out of this world.”

There’s a Jameson? Oh well.

I passed them a stifled smile before excusing myself.

It was probably the wine–like I said, it was pretty strong–or the fact that I was bored to death on that table hear Allison talk about wines that taste like fruit and death the entire night; I don’t know what it was, but I had suddenly garnered confidence and I found myself walking towards the sleek man in the equally sleek suit. Something about the way he immediately straightened up, adjusted his blazer, and sucked in a breath like he was mentally preparing himself for the moment I would halt in front of him caused me to raise a brow. Was he jittery because he was shy? I certainly hadn’t envisaged him that way.

I could have sworn anxiety washed over him. I had a sixth sense for noticing these kinds of things. Probably because psychology was my major–or was going to be my major–when I get into college next year for my second degree. By now, I was barely five steps away from him.

His next move was unexpected; he turned around–well aware that I was coming towards him–and made his way towards some random lady with whom he ignited a conversation.

Yes, I know. I was equally random to him. What made the difference was that I was making an effort to speak to the doofus, and he completely shanked me.

I stood, transfixed on the spot, watching as the woman revealed her thirty-two in an overly exaggerated smile. So, one minute, or should I say the entire evening, he was hovering all over me, only for him to pretend like he didn’t know me?

I scoffed. It was the sleek adonis guys’ loss.

Glancing over my shoulder, I observed what was going on at my table, using about five seconds to deliberate on the thought of going back to join them or going home to my comfort zone. And the only thing that resonated well with me at that moment was the latter. I received the invitation, and I graced it. Now, it was my time to exit.

I dug through my purse in search of my phone and tapped on it. The time, boldly displayed, flashed on the screen: 9:01; as well as a couple of missed calls. I didn’t need to click to see who it was; 99.99% of the time it was my father.

After placing the phone back in my purse, I took the next corner towards the exit. The valet I had entrusted my car to when I arrived had given the keys back to me about half an hour later. He had probably enjoyed driving it around a little too much as he had a funny smile on his face when he complimented my BMW X6 whilst giving me the keys, and the card indicating where it was parked. My eyes picked out each number on the card again, and I lifted my eyes to view the direction it was supposedly parked–according to the card.

It wasn’t there. Had he gotten the numbers mixed up?

I went ahead to examine the cars around the area, but nothing seemed to look as flashy as my car.

Closing my eyes, I sighed. If I go back in there, there was a good chance I would run into Jensen who wouldn’t stop yapping about the grinning Cheshire woman winning. I knew she was going to win; her ability to identify wine was maybe a bit close to mine. I would win her with a large margin should we go head to head, though.

But I had to get home, so I had to go back in.

As I turned to head back into the hall, I caught the black midsize luxury crossover SUV parked at the other end of the lot. It had a unique similitude with my car, so I took a few steps forward to take a peep at the plate number. If it was indeed mine, it would save me the chance of meeting Allison. Or seeing the Adonis; both of whom I’m forgetting I ever saw today.

3E – 4576.

Yep. That was my car. The valet might have gotten the numbers mixed up. Somehow. Even though I couldn’t understand how the strokes and curves of the number seventy-one had any semblance with the number one hundred and four.

I discarded the card in my hand to dig through my purse for the keys to the car. Just as I was about to pull open the doors, the unusual look of the back wheel flashed on my face.

The rear tire was flat. Pancake-flat.

I bent over at my knee to take a good look at the tire. What the hell did that valet do with my car? It looked like he had driven it through a rack of nails because that would be the only rational explanation to why my tire looked like that.

My face fell into my palms. He was probably grinning to himself right now because he knew too well he had committed an offense. That explains his funny smile, earlier. I bet he even bolted after handing me my keys.

While I was still conjuring up images of what I would do to the valet if I ever set eyes on him again, I unknowingly rested my back on the car beside me and the alarms went off, blaring.

Damn it!

The few people in the parking lot turned their attention to where the loud noise was emanating from. To me. I passed them an awkward smile, even waving at a few as I attempted to act normal. A minute later and it was still blaring. How long till this thing goes off? I felt the need to pull up the hood and take out the batteries of the car; for the peace of everyone out here, now, and the peace of my mind. It was not until a couple of minutes later the stupid alarm toned down, and I was left in the wondering thoughts of how the hell I would get home.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize the person who had struck a pose beside me–hands in pockets kind of pose–and was staring at my deflected tire, just as I was.

“Sheesh. That looks pretty bad?”

His voice dragged me out of my train of thoughts, and I turned to see who it was. To my surprise, it was the Adonis I had seen inside the hall. Yes, the same man that had ignored me when I was walking towards his direction to make friends with him.

I frowned. “Did you follow me out here?”

“Absolutely not. This is my car right here.” He used his legs to kick at the tire, turning to look at me. “Someone told me it was blaring all over the place, so I had to come to check out why; also, to escape the woman I had been conversing with. I’m certain I have learned more about the eye today than I did in the two years I studied biology.”

I fought the urge to laugh as I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that what he said amused me.

“So, were you trying to break into my car, and run?”

“What?”

“You were the one that set off the alarms, weren’t you?”

“That was a mistake. How was I supposed to know that touching it would cause the alarms to blare?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why were you touching it?”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you just said you were.”

“I didn’t touch it intentionally. I unknowingly rested my back on it. See? Mistake.”

I turned away from his gaze to take a good look at the car he called his own. I hadn’t taken notice of it till he laid claim to it, now. It was a black 1969 Ford Mustang; the kind Keanu Reeves used in his movie John Wick.

“Hmm,” I pointed my chin at it and looked at him. “Nice taste.”

“I could say the same for you, as well, Mira Rosé.”

That didn’t come as a surprise–the fact that he knew my name. I wasn’t a celebrity or anything like that, but my father could go down as one if we're counting multi-millionaires that appear on the media one too many times, and he always seized the opportunity to show me off and speak about me, on television, radio, magazines, anywhere and anytime.

The adonis extended his arm, smiling. “Marco Tate.”

I put my hand in his. “What you said two seconds ago.”

His brows knitted in confusion, and I immediately placated. “Mira Rosé Barrett.”

He chuckled softly in the realization of the silly joke I made. “Umm, are you on your way out?”

“Yes. Home.”

“There’s certainly no way you’re driving home in this.”

I shook my head, looking at the deflected tire again. No way. It wouldn’t even make it past reverse.

“So, how about I give you a ride home? Or wherever you want. You can call the towing service tomorrow to get this baby out of here.” He placed a hand on the top of my car, slapping it gently.

I looked at him with squinted eyes, deliberating on the offer.

“I swear, I don’t bite.”

“But I do.”

He chuckled. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He pressed the button on his key and brushed past me in the little space between both of us to open the door to his car and hold it out. “Shall we?”