***POV ISABELA***
I drank as if there were no tomorrow. But there was. Look at it here, hitting me right in the face!
I opened my eyes, but I regret bitterly that decision. I close them again, feeling my head spinning. The brightness streaming into the room doesn't let me keep my eyes open.
A bit distant, I can hear my phone ringing persistently.
Gathering all my strength, I sit up in bed, still with my eyes closed.
My head spins.
I run my hands over my face, rubbing my eyes to try to open them without difficulty. Slowly, I manage to keep them open.
I look around, trying to remember where I am.
"Hmm..." I grumble, "This isn't my room!” I say to myself. “What happened yesterday?”
This is a hotel room—luxurious, I would say. Its color palette is white and beige. The furniture is modern, and everything is well-decorated.
I observe my clothes scattered on the floor of the room and stare at the bathroom door, having a brief flashback of last night.
I vaguely remember my back hitting that door hard while being intensely kissed by a man, a stranger.
“OH MY GOD!” It hit me that I slept with a stranger.
For a moment, I feel my cheeks flush as I recall some moments from last night. I sighed. It had been a very, very long time since I had felt such intense physical pleasure.
I try to remember the man's face, but I fail miserably. I don't remember his face; I was drunk. But his smell is vivid in me—the scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat of our hot night.
Interrupting my thoughts, my phone starts ringing again.
I get out of bed, wrap my body in the sheet, and search the room for my phone, which is lying on the floor next to an armchair.
I pick up my phone and look at the screen, seeing that it's the director of the television network I work for. I furrow my brow, puzzled by her call.
What does she want? I think. It must be something important because there are already ten missed calls.
Before I could call back, she called me again. I sigh and answer the call.
"Hi!” I say when I answer.
“Thank God, you answered!” she says, relieved and tense. I immediately became worried because she seemed desperate to talk to me.
“What happened?” I asked, "You're making me worried."
“We have an interview in exactly 30 minutes,” she pauses “30 minutes, I need you," she whimpers.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I thought it was something serious...” I grumble.
“And it is!” she practically shouts. “An urgent case, ISA. Can you do this interview?
I was ready to refuse. Last night was intense, and I was having one hell of a hangover. My head was pounding, and surely my face looked terrible.
“I know this silence of yours,” she says. “Don't you dare refuse, Isabela! I promise I'll owe you one; you can ask me for anything!”
I walk around the room, heading to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, startled by what I see.
“My goodness!”
My face is smeared with makeup. My hair is a mess, dark circles are present, and my God, my neck...
That man left me with marks!
“Mayara, I can't...” I grumble, looking at myself in the mirror.
“Isaaaaa” she screams hysterically, “it's been five minutes already. If you don't accept, I'll be fired, I'll starve, and I'll be kicked out of my apartment," she dramatizes.
I sigh reluctantly.
"Alright,” I hear her ecstatic scream of joy, “I'll be there in ten minutes,” I informed her.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she thanks me.
“You owe me one.” I remind her.
“You can ask me for anything.”
“Bye,” I say before hanging up the call.
I look at myself in the mirror once more, feeling my face burning as I look at the marks on my neck.
I splash some water on my face to fully wake up. I return to the room and pick up my clothes scattered around. I put on only my dress since my underwear had disappeared, and I didn't have time to look for it. I grab my purse from the armchair, take one last look around the room, and quickly leave.
“You said you'd be here in ten minutes; it's been fifteen!” Mayara says anxiously as soon as she sees me enter the studio.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask, staring at her.
“NO!” she shouts, grabbing my arm. “Sorry, I'm nervous! Let's go to the dressing room. You have a few minutes to get ready. And, my God, where were you? You look like a truck ran over you!”
“Why all this fuss? Am I interviewing the president by any chance?” I joke.
“Better than that, girl," she says, pulling me through the corridors to the dressing room. “You're going to interview none other than Noah Cooper," she says excitedly.
I enter the dressing room with Mayara still following me. After she closed the door behind her, I started taking off my dress without caring about her presence; it wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time I did that. We had enough intimacy for such an act.
“Noah Cooper?” I ask, “The famous player?” I inquired. And she quickly nods, following me to the bathroom.
“No time for a shower!” she warns.
“I need this shower!”
I needed it, and I was going to take my shower. I felt like I smelled of sex, and that man's scent was still lingering on me.
I started taking my shower while Mayra chose my clothes and chatted.
“What's that on your body?” she smirked. “Did you make up with Daniel?” she asked.
I finished soaping my body and turned off the shower, grabbing the towel. It was a quick shower, just to get rid of the smell of sex that was clinging to me.
“I don't want to talk about it.” I dried myself off and put on a robe, sitting in front of the vanity. I had little time to get ready, so, obviously, I couldn't doll myself up as usual. So, I decided to be very natural, just applying some foundation, concealer, face powder, and a gloss. It took me a little longer than expected because I had to try to hide the marks on my neck. “Isn't this dress too short?” I asked when I saw the dress in Mayara's hands.
“It's perfect for this interview. Let's go; he must have arrived by now!”
I got up and started putting on the blue dress. It was short, above the knee, and it accentuated my curves nicely. I put on a nude-colored sandal.
“What are you going to do with your hair?” she asked.
I looked at myself in the mirror and then glanced at the clock on the wall. I didn’t have time to do a hairstyle.
“I'll leave it loose.”
Usually, I don't like to wear my hair down for interviews. But it will be necessary this time. I ran a brush through my long blonde hair.
“Ready.” I got up, taking one last look in the mirror.
“Wonderful! Let's go.” she pulled me by the hand, leaving the dressing room.
The studio where the interview would take place was already full of people working. I greeted everyone.
I looked at Mayara to see if the said player had arrived.
"No," she answered before I asked, “he hasn't arrived yet." She sighed. “I hope he comes!”
I bit my lip, wanting to curse her.
“What do you mean, I hope he comes?” I asked, “You made me run here like crazy, and this interview isn't even certain?”
I was about to freak out.
“His father assured me he would come... The son is a bit complicated; he hates interviews... and well, we'll be the first television network to get an interview with him!” she said excitedly about the last part.
“If he doesn't show up, I swear I'll...” I was interrupted by a series of murmurs.
“He's here!” Mayara said excitedly.
I sighed in relief. Honestly, if this guy hadn't shown up, I would have gone to drag him here by force.
I walked up to the small, makeshift stage there, with two armchairs in the middle where we would sit. An assistant came up to me to adjust the microphones.
"Oh, my goodness!” she said, looking behind me. The girl was pale and looked like she would have a heart attack right there. "He's even more handsome in person,” she commented.
I smiled at her comment and shook my head. These young girls nowadays...
She finished adjusting the microphone, saying how this player was handsome and how all the girls were crazy about him.
“Thank you.” I thanked her before she walked away.
“WE'RE STARTING IN 5 MINUTES!” I heard the director shout.
I picked up the paper on the small table there on the stage, where there was some information about the interviewee.
Noah Cooper is 25 years old, a football player, and single. Voted the best player of the year, and he won the Golden Ball.
I positioned myself in my place, waiting for the okay from the production, and as soon as I heard the authorization, I started.
“Today we have the privilege of interviewing the sports revelation and the football player of the moment. Noah Cooper.” I said, calling out to him.
The tall, strong, blond man approached where I was standing. And my God, as he approached with all his posture intact, some flashes from the previous night invaded my mind, and when he was facing me, his woody cologne filled the room; his smell was unmistakable.
His eyes burned into me, and he looked at me in a way that no one had ever looked at me before. I felt naked and exposed with his gaze on me.
"Hello," he said with a deep voice.
For God's sake...
It was him; he was the mysterious man from the previous night!