Someone is watching me. I just know. Those little hairs at the base of my skull, yeah, those ones… They're standing and a flush is steadily rising up my neck. From what? I don't know. I just know that heat is spreading across my body. I'm on edge.
My tipsy state does nothing to dull my senses to that, despite my very best efforts. I can hardly say coherent words at this point, yet I still feel fear right now? I wonder. I mean, it's the sane thing to do, but the reason I'm drinking in the first place is to escape my problems; escape the terror that is overtaking me.
Lisa had come up with this idea. Now, most of her plans do not always end up successful, so I should have thought twice before taking her up on her offer. But in my defense, my brain has gone on a short vacation and all it's currently doing is whipping up the worst possible case scenario in my head and that is not very conducive for rational thought. And that carefully reined-in pessimism I used to have… has broken loose.
I stayed couped-up in my house all day, not willing to go outside. I knew I was going to see those high-end cars again, driving past; cars that I cannot place a finger on what they would be doing in such a modest neighborhood as mine. Our neighbors are pretty much working-class people, with just little four-wheel drives and not Mercedeses and Bentleys. In fact, José had picked that neighbourhood for a reason. It is quite calm and laid back from the hustle and bustle of the main city.
The past two days, I have been seeing these high-end vehicles parked around my house, along my street; coupled with the scary text and the break-ins. And with the last break-in where I got a glimpse of the back of the over-six-foot monster, I decided it would be better if these people- or person- thought I wasn't home. So I had locked all the doors and windows and then drawn all the curtains to give the illusion of not being home as I thought hard and long about my life.
Since I didn't have to go to work today- by virtue of not having one- I was fine.
I know. This sounds like a five-year-old's response to a problem, but it was all I could manage at the time. Brain vacation, remember?
Lisa had watched me with a bit of concern as I did all that. Then as evening dropped, while I binge-watched old reruns of popular shows, at an ultra-low volume in my bedroom, she'd come to my room and said: "You need to go out. This is unhealthy."
"You're just bored. Come join me," I had told her.
"Pass. Now get your ass up, get dressed and let's go out. You need to teach your stalker slash stalkers that whoever they are, they cannot rule your life. You're your own woman." And then she proceeded to physically remove me from my bed.
And that is why I am here now. Because her pep-talk was very convincing. She was right. I didn't have to lock myself up like some hermit. I have a life to live. At some point, I will have to get a new job. There's no way, I was going to be piloting my life from my bedroom chair.
But as soon as I stepped inside the club, I knew that the drinks wouldn't be celebratory. The drinks would be an anti-depressant. That feeling followed me even here. And for some reason, the last few minutes, the feeling of being watched got stronger.
"You'll be knocked out cold if you keep that up," Lisa says as I reach for my glass again and fill it up. The bottle is empty when I'm done.
She is right. Given that we'd started with one too many tequila shots, turning myself into a barrel is probably not the right thing to do, but I ignore her.
"Mind your own business." My words are sloppy and she winces as she hears me.
"Girl, drop that glass."
I laugh loudly, but it doesn't matter, the club is doing noise pollution anyway, my voice is like a pin drop in all that bass.
I switch topics.
"You need a man," I tell her drunkenly. "Why waste your time on someone who will never notice you?"
"You said it yourself that José called me cute," Lisa counters.
"Yeah," I admit. I take another few seconds to form the words on my mouth. They had been so within reach, I don't know why it's taking this long to get them out. "But he had said it when I said you thought he worked for the CIA or something. He said it like he meant, 'that's cute, but that sounds low-key stupid.' Ridiculous. Ya know what I mean?"
Lisa stares at me. She's drunk too, but I'm sure I'm worse. That is why I cannot properly place the look on her face.
"Don't get mad," I continue. "You know you're a hottie. There are several guys that have been hoping to catch your attention. They've been staring in your direction ever since we got here. Give them a chance. You might score a date home, huh?" I give her a wide grin. But there's still that look on her face. I don't know what it is still.
Annoyance, worry, concern? What are you thinking, Nicole? Worry and concern are literally in the same bracket.
"Someone has been staring at you too. Why didn't you give him attention?" She asks.
I had hoped she wouldn't mention that.
I stop blabbering for a moment and the back of my scalp tingles as my gaze goes to the VIP lounge that is partly obscured from view. The lights are crazy in Bada-Bang on a normal night, but right in the VIP area it's all weird red lights and extra scantily-clad waitresses and rich, shoddy-looking characters.
Maybe it's the lights. Or me. But I can see his eyes on me. A man that is dressed in a crisp white shirt, a loose tie hung low on his neck seems to be staring at me. I cannot see his face properly, with all that red light and all that cigarette smoke floating about, but I know that I will have to be unconscious to not notice this inconvenient attention he's paying me.
As I maintain my gaze on him, his jaw twitches just a tiny bit. This hardly makes a difference in the cold countenance that is on his face but then he grins and the hard mask breaks just slightly. I blink and for some reason, my heart beats faster in my chest.
He's the one. He's been watching me.
At some point, it seems there had been several eyes, several people- or maybe I'm losing my mind- but then they didn't make it so apparent, so I can't really point to them. But this guy… wants me to know that in the headlights of his gaze, I'm a deer caught and trapped. Crippling.
A breath leaves my lips. Just when I was finally getting high enough to not dwell on my fears.
I turn to Lisa at once. Sweat gathers on my forehead.
Her brows are raised at me. "What? You can't take your own advice?"
"Mine's different. I don't have to get rid of an unhealthy obsession," I drawl out.
"You think it's just obsession?"
I hope she's not mad. But sincerely, my mind is not on it anymore. I can't relax.
"No, I mean, infatuation, or something. I- unrequited love that will lead nowhere- stop talking." I slap my hand across my forehead and take the glass of whiskey to my lips.
"Yes, you should." Lisa gets up to her feet. "I'll just go use the restroom."
God, she is mad at me.
She's leaving in a few more seconds and I don't know what to do; what to say. As the distance spans between us, I'm regretting taking this much alcohol. Yeah, it lets you say the truth, but at what cost? And who wants the truth anyway? Sincerely, I would have exchanged some of my deepest darkest secrets for those words about her one-sided romance with my brother going nowhere. And where is she going?
"Lisa," I say, getting up. But the floor must have shifted positions sometime back and I don't know where my legs start and the floor begins. It doesn't help that a dizzy wave seizes my head. I put one foot out and like my subconscious predicted, I stumble, and I'm heading for the ground in a few seconds.
A hard body appears in my line of sight and strong arms grip me. Some part of my mind that is not totally knocked out forces my mouth to yelp in the foreign arms that envelop me now.
"Shhh. Relax." His voice. It's quiet and calm, unlike my raging nerves. It's husky, yet so clear.
When I relax in his arms- I don't know why I do that- he continues. "Now tell me, why is my little siren drunk tonight?"
"Your who?" My gaze rises to meet his and my throat becomes dry instantly. I stop thinking for some time. Even in my haze of tipsiness, I'm surprised I can still recognize beauty. Because this man is beautiful.