CHAPTER THREE

Beverly watched the approaching figure and was reminded of the boogeyman. Though as she grew older, she regarded it as an old wives fable, something that was told to little children just to scare them to sleep or maybe to tell a good story. She wasn't sure which was which, but seeing the figure that steadily approached her, she was reminded of the boogeyman. She could tell it was a man, but she couldn't tell anything else. The rain kept getting worse, and her phone was long dead. Even though the day kept getting worse, she held on to a tiny ray of hope that something would happen, the rain would let up or something. She was soaked to the sole of her feet and tried as she did to keep the hope aflame; it died when she saw the approaching figure. He was walking towards her with intent, intent on what, she had no idea. She tried to stop her teeth from chattering, but it was to no avail. The shoes she wore were soaked, her clothes clung to her body like a second skin. She prayed to be found by someone but definitely not a man. For all she knew, seeing her in that vulnerable state would give them ideas, ideas she wasn't willing to encourage. The mere thought of how dire her predicament was, was enough to get her thinking of a way out. She had no idea where she was, and she missed the turn she was to take to her house. Due to the rain, everything looked the same as she tried to navigate where she was going. To say she was pissed off was an understatement, a gross one.

She calmed her nerves and waited for him to approach. As he did, she noticed that his appearance wasn't as fearful as she thought, not in the least. He wore raincoats and rain boots and held an umbrella over her head as soon as he got close enough to stretch his hands, using the umbrella to cover her. She smiled at the gesture, although it looked like a grimace with the way her teeth were chattering. He said no words just took her hands in his and walked her to his house. For one, she was soaking wet, the old seeping into her bones. To start talking to her in that state was nothing short of cruel and he wasn't cruel, at least he didn't think so. She followed him without asking where he was taking her to; she just wanted a place to lay down and a place to get a warm drink or something close to that. She sensed no sinister motives from him even though her clothes practically clung to her body. He didn't stare at all. In fact, he was so thoughtful, and she ignored the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time a man did something decent for her, so she was bowled over by his sensitivity. It was different as she walked with him; she practically couldn't hear the sound of the rain anymore; she felt a sense of peace that she couldn't explain. To say she was grateful must have been the biggest understatement of the century.

He pointed to a lit house just a few feet away from where they stood, and she nodded in the affirmative. She worried about her car, but she decided that she'd do something about it later when she was warm enough to remember. He walked her to his home and waited for her affirmation before she entered the house. She walked ahead of him, and he followed in her wake. He opened the door and ushered her in, not minding the fact that she was dripping over his tiles. He took her hand and showed her where to step as the floor was very slippery, and it'd have been easy for her to fall. He guided her into the house and straight to the bathroom where a pair of flip-flops awaited her. He nodded to her and walked away as she stared at his retreating figure, a drop of tears falling from her eyes, mixing up with the water already on her face. She had no idea that someone would ever treat her with such thoughtfulness, with such sensitivity. Even with all he did, he never said a word because he knew that it'd be impossible for her to reply.

She wore the pair of flip-flops and walked into the bathroom where a bathtub awaited her. She let her wet clothes fall on the floor as she stepped daintily into the bathtub and sunk into it, turning on the tap. She just laid there, thinking about the events of that night. Her phone was in her bag along with the pepper spray she contemplated using. She gave a wry smile as the bath filled up while she just laid there and thought about everything. For one, she didn't know his name, the man whose home she inhabited. He didn't know hers too, but he didn't press her for it. He brought her into his home, not thinking about the consequences of his actions. It was the sweetest thing that had ever been done to her, and she felt another fresh wave of tears come unbidden to her eyes. The water was hot but not hot enough to scald her. It was hot enough to stop her teeth from chattering, warm enough for her to get herself. She was grateful to the man who saved her, and she contemplated going to tell him. But then, she realized she had no clothes to wear; hers was beyond wet. She searched for something to do, and her eyes caught the white towels that hung by the door, and close to it was a pair of clothes, neatly folded. Beverly felt a fresh wave of tears come to her eyes, but she blinked them away and stepped out of the bathtub and told ahold of one of the towel, using it to dry herself off. She wore the clothes he so gracefully provided a nondescript shirt and a pair of trousers. She took her time to wear them, contemplating how she'd ever thank him for what he did and, apparently, continued doing. With no words said, he melted her heart and even brought tears to her eyes. For the first time, she contemplated changing that day from the worst day ever to one of her best days, all because of a man whose name she didn't know yet.

She walked out as slow as possible, wringing her hands in front of her as he walked out of the bathroom. She walked straight to the sitting room to see that he had already mopped the floor where her footprints soiled the tiles. She saw a steaming mug of tea on the dining table where he sat and motioned for her to come closer.

"Hey, how are you?" He asked as soon as she got within earshot. She stared open-mouthed at the man who sat on the dining table with a voice that reverberated through her. A voice that she knew she'd never be able to forget in a hurry, no matter how much she tried. His voice flowed through her body, gave her a sense of peace, calmness unrivaled. She was happy, that much she knew. She didn't need a soothsayer to tell her that she was more comfortable than she'd been in weeks with a total stranger, one she didn't even know his name.

"I-I'm fine. Thank you." She replied, stumbling on her words. For one, he was absolutely the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He had eyes of summer blue, a crinkle close to his lips whenever he smiled. He had a straight nose and soft eyes, a full mouth that she wanted to place her lips on. There was no word for what she felt; it made no sense even to her. She had no idea why she reacted to him the way she did, but there was no denying the fact that she was attracted to a man she just met, one she had no idea what his name was.

She walked gingerly to the dining table and sat down, the mug of tea in front of her. She took a sip as it warmed her from within; it had the right amount of sugar she could stand and the right amount of milk. She wasn't lactose intolerant, but she didn't like too much milk in her tea, and even when she told people about it, they still managed to mess it up. Yet the man who sat across her did it in one try, without even being told. She took another sip and used that moment to admire the man in front of her, to see him well in the light.

He had a square jaw, one that accentuated the beards on his face. The elegant lines of the cheekbones on his face made her inwardly sigh at the beautiful man in front of her. With a mop of hair that didn't seem to be able to stay in place, she knew she'd found a man that she could fantasize about, at least for the time being.

"I'm sorry, though, couldn't see clothes good enough. Those were my sister's, the last time she came here. It was the only one I saw on such short notice, so I hope you'd pardon me." He spoke in a somber tone, and Beverly couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was sorry for. He provided the clothes she wore and was apologizing for it. She didn't think it was possible, but he got even more attractive to her. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before; the butterflies in her stomach felt more like dragons; they couldn't be ignored. She wasn't going to ignore them either, and it was something she wanted to bask in, for the first time in forever.

"Oh? Why are you sorry, though? That was a beautiful thing you did, a noble gesture. Why, if we were in medieval times, you'd be a knight of the royal palace. Sir-sir what? I'm sorry, I haven't asked about your name yet." Beverly realized her folly and struggled to do damage control, but he waved it aside.

"Oh, I've been a bad host. I'm Bryan, Bryan Roland. What about you? Sorry, I didn't ask, I felt it'd be insensitive to ask when you were so cold." As he explained, Beverly knew that she'd never found anybody as attractive as she did then, he was attractive in ways she couldn't even explain. His sensitivity, his noble attitude, his beauty. She considered calling him handsome, but it felt like a slap to his face since he had the finest features she'd ever seen in a person.

"I'm Beverly, Beverly Bowens, at your service. Now, as I was saying, you'd be a knight if we were in medieval times. Sir Bryan The First. Honestly, that has a nice ring to it." She put her hand on her chin in a thoughtful expression as he gave a chuckle that metamorphosed into a burst of beautiful laughter. She made him laugh, and the mere thought of that, warmed to her insides, to places where she never felt were valid.

"Thank you, Beverly, been a while there was laughter in this house, and you brought it." He spoke matter-of-factly, yet it warmed her to her toes, feeling like the most beautiful compliment ever given to her. She was glad she decided to go with him, glad she decided to let go of her fears and go along with a total stranger, one she'd never met before. She decided to ask some questions before she forgets, lost in the beauty of his features.

"Why has it been a while since there was laughter in the house, though? It's a beautiful place, has a homely feel to it. Lest I forget, thank you, Bryan, thank you for coming to me when you did. I thought I'd die of cold before you came along and you asked no questions, just took me in. Thank you, I'm truly grateful. I don't know how to repay you, and I don't even know if there's a way."

She stumbled over the words as she spoke, but she let everything out, the gratitude welling from the depths of her heart. She'd never seen someone like him, never heard of them. It all felt like a dream, a dream she'd wake up from and find out that everything was a construct of her imagination or the twisted sense of humor of the universe.

"I guess I've been so into the things I do here, and I forget to laugh. Also, you don't have to thank me; it’s what anybody would have done in my situation. You were stranded, and it was only natural for me to try to help. If I didn't, someone else would have. So, there's no need to thank me; I’m just glad you're fine."

He flashed her his most disarming smile, one that melted hearts. It was a reflex action, but she found herself smiling back at him, unable to stop.

"Thank you for caring. I'm truly astonished that they're people like you still in the world of a truth. You went above and beyond my expectations, and I have no words to use to thank you adequately." Beverly found herself thanking him over and over again, unable to stop. She was not just grateful because he saved her; she was grateful because of everything he did after. It might have felt like it was a normal thing to some, but it felt different to her. To have that amount of love and care shown to her without even knowing her name, it was the most beautiful thing ever.

She knew that it was late, but she knew that she wasn't going to go to sleep, at least not then. She intended to listen to him talk, to admire him all the more. Sleeping would come later; she was sure of it.