Today is particularly gloomy so I’m sitting on a table at Starbucks with my laptop and a hot ‘Latte’ on its side. I chuckle thinking about the other day. Zac wasn’t in the gym when I ran down to get my phone back, but I smelled a trail of his odor that made me sigh with lust as soon as I stepped out of the elevator.

I regret having gotten defensive with him like that. I’m not a bitch. I’ve never been. But after what happened a few months ago it’s like I have been using a shield to protect me from potential suffering. I know this shouldn’t be the way to go but the scar is still fresh. I’m sorry though that I’m not giving other men the slightest chance to show me they can be different.  ‘Or can’t they?’

Suddenly I feel wistful and sad. Maybe Zac is a very good guy and he was only trying to be friendly. In his own way.

I probably overreacted, making him look like an asshole, when he may simply be just a smooth and cool fellow. After my experience, I should know better to beware of the ‘good’ guys. That loser I was about to marry looked everything but a bad boy, but in the end, he carelessly betrayed me. 

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover!’ I repeat in my mind.

I might be speculating, but I’ll never know for sure if I don’t do something about it. It’s not like I suddenly want him to ask me out or something, but I feel guilty for my uptight behavior. I can’t blame him for telling me not to talk like that to him anymore. I would have done the same.

‘I’m sorry Zac.  I’m not the fucking bitch you saw these days!’ I think regretfully.  ‘And you are hot damn it!  You are the hottest guy I’ve ever seen on this planet.’ 

Jeez, I finally admitted to myself. That guy sent tingles through my body since the night I met him. Why have I been so sulky and bitchy?

I shake my head slowly before I get back to my laptop. All the academic positions I’m looking for are taken. But I keep going through their websites to see if any of those has become vacant, while all the same, I apply sending my resume for future reference. 

At one point a Facebook notification pops up on the bottom right of my laptop’s screen – I have to remember to turn them down, I remind myself, annoyed by the interruption – saying a profile named I Love Grace asked me to accept a message. I bite my lip and raise my eyebrow, but I’m too curious about it and I open it up.

This person, whoever may be, has posted a black plain dark background with two bright eyes in the middle, as a profile picture. It’s kind of creepy, and when I read the message my heart skips a beat.

  ‘Don’t everthink I don’t know every step you take. Our moment will come very soon.’

‘Jesus Christ! If this is a joke he better cut it out or I’ll go fucking straight to the police!’

“Shit!” I rumble.  

Two guys sitting on the table next to mine stop talking and look at me for a second. I turn and let out an awkward smile. “These damn statistics… It’s hard!”  I squeal. They look at me quizzically for a few instants, then they smirk and go back to their talking.

I clear my throat and I stare at the damn message again. My eyes widen and my heart races. I bit my thumbnail nervously as I think about what has just happened.

‘Who the fuck is this?’  

 “Shit!” I blurt again, checking the time. It’s almost 5 pm and I’m ridiculously late for work. The two guys next my table fall quiet and stare at me one more time.

“I really can’t seem to get rid of this exercise!” I tell them before I start packing as quickly as I can. I’m too worried I might get late at work to really enjoy their bewildered expressions.

I clumsily rush toward the exit, carrying my laptop’s bag over my shoulder, and I stumble on the edge of a table. Hurriedly, I walk out, panting and throttling down the fifth avenue, directed to Bryant Park subway station. 

I get off at Tribeca and in five minutes I’m at the restaurant, just in time to start my shift. 

“Did you run a marathon or something?” Nick asks, letting out a slight smile.

“I was kinda late so I had to hurry up,” I say catching my breath as I rush to the dressing room.

“Oh, I see.” He chuckles delightedly.

The restaurant is also available for all kind of artistic exhibitions and this evening one is taking place. An emergent photographer has booked the whole restaurant, and only people with an invitation, are allowed to step in. The tables have been removed and there’s a trendy buffet on a side corner near the bar. The walls have been adorned with the photographer’s works.

When I walk back into the main room, wearing my tidy black uniform, the first guests have arrived.  Nick looks nervous, his brow slightly furrowed, he looks around making sure everything is in place and nothing is missing. He notices me and unfolding his index finger he gestures for me to come closer.

“Ok dear, this is your first event.  I’ve already explained to you what to do when we did the orientation. So, I won’t go through that again.”  He smiles, waving his right in a feminine way. “But make sure everybody in here has their drinks and their foods.  If you see somebody with an empty glass, ask them politely if they need some more.  It’s gonna be a very easy job today.” He says, delicately brushing his manicured hand on my lower back.

“Yeah, sounds good Nick. Ok.”   I smirk.

As I cross the restaurant, heading to the bar to get my tray of champagne flutes, I sense a sudden feeling of frustration.  I can’t believe how my former fiancée has screwed my life.  I had a dream job. I was doing what I’d always wanted since I was a teen, and I was going to be married to a man I loved.   And then, out of the blue, everything was gone, and now I had to serve drinks to strangers and even be reminded to make sure everybody was happy with their thirst.

I feel my eyes getting watery, but I can’t burst right here. I just can’t. So, I clear my mind from those pessimistic thoughts, trying to envision a better future.

The room has gotten crowded.  Some people are chit-chatting in small groups, while others slowly move from one picture to another, commenting the innovating art. I have to be careful now. People might not realize I’m behind them when I walk around with my small silver tray and they may suddenly turn, causing a little disaster.  I make my way through the crowd, carefully walking back to the bar to refill the glasses.

And then I see him.

I wasn’t expecting that.  My heart starts racing. ‘What is he doing here?’

He’s talking to the photographer, his back facing me. Even from behind he looks hot.  His shoulders are much wider than his hips, and his triceps are tensed and seem to be made of solid rock.  He’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I’ve never been a fan of tattoos and inked men, but I must confess that his tattoos make him look even sexier.

  I don’t know whether I want him to see me, but I have no choice. He will sooner or later, unless I flee the restaurant right now, without any explanation, and willing to be fired, but then I think it may be an opportunity to apologize for my bitchy behavior in the gym. Not yet, though, I don’t want the photographer to know about my private life.  So, I change direction and I take a broader route.

“You are doing great,” Nick whispers as he quickly passes me by.

I smirk, glad that everything is going well.  I know Zac might be looking at me.   I’m the one with my back to him now, and I’m waiting for a fresh tray of champagne glasses to be ready.   I obviously pretend I don’t know he’s there.  I start biting my thumbnail nervously – I need to stop biting my nails! – and when the tray is finally ready, I turn around and I almost stumble into him.

I gasp feeling my knees going weak.

“Hey there.  I swear I didn’t come for ya.”  Zac says.  He chuckles, smacking his sexy lower lip.

I can’t help letting out a soft smile.  I roll my eyes back and look away for an instant; then I turn to him and can’t help smiling. “Yeah, it’s funny,” I squeal, feeling my cheeks burning and my pulse increasing.

He grins staring intensively into my eyes. “I wanted to apologize.  I’m sorry. That’s not me. I don’t know why I acted that way,” I tell him, lowering my eyes.

He raises an eyebrow.  “It’s ok,” he says, grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray I’m holding.

“So, how did ya get the invitation for this evening?”  I ask.

He takes a gulp from his glass and groans, “The Photographer.  He’s a customer of mine.”

“Oh, I see.  Listen, I need to go working or at least pretend I am,” I chuckle.  “But if you hang around, I might talk to ya later,” I say.

He snorts, looking away and then back at me. “Hmmm… I might. But I ain’t spending the whole night here, I’ll let ya know though when I’m out.”

“Yeah ok, sounds cool.  Enjoy the evening.” 

I sidestep him, attentively keeping the tray balanced, and I carefully walk into the crowd.

“Hey, do you mind?”  I hear someone saying. I turn, and I realize it’s the photographer.   He’s most likely in his middle thirties.  He’s wearing a thick pair of glasses, and his hair is long, disheveled, and curly.  His body seems to be average but with a slight beer belly showing through his dark red hoodie. 

I smile. “Oh, not all!  Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking a flute.

“You are very welcome,” I say before stepping forward to walk away.

“Wait, do you know Zac?”   I’m sorry, I couldn’t help noticing how the two of you were talking, with a certain grade of awkwardness yet in a very intimate way.”

‘Oh my..’ Now what’s this?  I suddenly wonder.  “But I—“ I stammer.

“No, don’t worry, I’m not a nosy guy. I’m a photographer.  An artist if ya will.  And this has been pure coincidence.  I’ve read his eyes while I was talking to him when suddenly his eyes have changed, and after a couple of minutes he excused himself and went talking to you.”

‘What the hell.  Is he for real or what?’ I stare at him, taken aback by what he has just said. 

“Don’t look at me like that, please. I don’t want to be rude, but this is really basically what I do.  Did you see my pictures, taken all around the world?  Well… I just wanted to tell you this. I’ve seen a beautiful thing right there.  It may be raw, like a raw diamond. But it’s there.”

I blush, and I lower my eyes, biting my bottom lip. 

“You see?  You know what I’m talking about right? Deep inside you know. I’ve seen both of your eyes.  And what do they say? “

I at him quizzically.

“They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul.”

I suddenly feel butterflies running up from my belly up to my chest. I feel embarrassed and I secretly hope Zac is not looking.  “Well I…I don’t. Really I…”  I sputter.

The guy grins knowingly.  “I’m not gonna say more. But remember my words,” he mutters, before winking and walking away.

I stand there for a few seconds with an absent expression. ‘Damn that can’t be. I can’t.  I don’t want to. What if he’s right, though?’. Nick brings me back to reality.

“Grace please go get some food-refill for the buffet. It’s in the kitchen all set to go. Thank you, sweetie!”  He sings, disappearing into the crowd of people right after.

The event has probably reached its peak. I do as he said, and I rapidly go back to the bar to get rid of the tray before walking into the kitchen to get the food, and I’m slightly disappointed when I can’t see Zac anywhere. 

‘He’s already gone?  He said he’d say goodbye. I knew it he’s an asshole’.

I’m heading to the restaurant kitchen and I enter the narrow corridor that leads to it.  It’s getting hot in here, I think.  And then my eyes go blind for the split of a second as my face crashes into Zac’s upper chest.

“Oops!” He says, instinctively grabbing my waist as he walks out from the restroom.

I don’t realize who that is until I drew my head back. My vision still a little blurry. His pectorals are harder than stone!  I think.  “Jeez, really?” I babble. 

He grins charmingly. “I can’t believe this.” He murmurs.

It’s only the two of us now.  The noise from the room is muffled. My breasts are touching his torso.  I look up and I feel his breath brushing my lips. My heart races and I suddenly feel wet.

He leans closer. Our lips almost connect.  I can’t do this, but I can’t help it, and I slightly disclose mine.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I feel like a teenager for a moment. 

His full lips are about to meet mine when suddenly someone cuts off. “Sorry guys is this the restroom over here?” A man, blatantly under the influence, asks.

I instinctively pull away from Zac. 

“Um, yeah, this door right here,” I mumble feeling my heart drumming against my ribcage.

“Thank you, ma’am!” The guy says before heading to the restroom 

I suddenly realize I have to go fetch the food in the kitchen.

“Oh my Gosh, my supervisor said they need some food refill down at the buffet.  Sorry I need to go!”

Zac stands still. He grins and slowly shakes his head. 

I look up and our eyes lock for an intense moment before I walk into the kitchen.