Briiiiiing! My alarm clock woke me up, which I hoped it didn’t.
After that confrontation with that man last night, I mean, earlier this morning, it caused me to have a night of insufficient sleep. Well, I could say I’m used to having a lack of sleep, if not six hours maximum, due to the nature of my work, but the case earlier was different compared to my usual nights. If it wasn’t for the trouble that man recklessly created, I could’ve slept more peacefully.
“Or perhaps, I should’ve not argued with that man anymore,” I groaned. “I feel like I only wasted my time disputing with him.”
But then, if I didn’t dare to let him know what trouble he was causing that could affect his neighbors, he wouldn’t stop.
“Ah, that’s right. I’m his only neighbor,” I chuckled and stared at my ceiling for a few seconds.
Perhaps, I could just get something to eat when I arrive at my office. Although I’m craving Kayla’s walnut pie and iced americano in this instance, it could wait. Bargaining myself to not think of that matter, I forced myself to the kitchen and drank a glass of warm water to freshen my stomach.
“Giddy up, Misty. You’re going to have a long day at work today!” I told myself and immediately walked to my bathroom, the wooden floor freezing my naked feet. See? Last night, I didn’t even have the time to wear the good, comfy socks I randomly bought at the department store near the publishing house where I work.
After my warm but quick shower, I decided to get dressed in just a simple beige straight slack—a gift from Kayla—with a tucked-in black turtleneck long-sleeved shirt in it. It was getting colder and colder already due to the arrival of the winter season, so I put on only a simple makeup since I didn’t want to get my face dry. I don’t use makeup that much unless there’s a special occasion in the publishing house, so this look didn’t matter. Like, I was only going to work—my usual, daily life—so it wouldn’t matter. Even if the man from the next unit sees me with a rush-looking look, it still wouldn’t matter at all. Even if he’s handsome—
“What? Did I just think about him?” I scowled and made my hair into a lower ponytail.
Finally, I put on my beige cardigan that matches my beige slack pants to finish my look and wore my sling office bag containing my stuff, like my hygiene products, the book I am currently reading, and just other stuff. Well, just a sling bag, but a little bigger than the one I used yesterday, which still has crumpled unknown papers, papers of my doodles and random writing, or old receipts from take-outs—primarily those of cafes or restaurants.
“There you go! This would do. I think I look quite decent now,” I said with confidence while looking at myself in the mirror.
My phone started ringing as Ms. Rose’s name appeared on my phone’s screen.
“Hello? Ms. Rose?” I uttered, trying my best to be as cheerful as I could because being sloppy in the morning was the last thing you could be in front of Ms. Rose.
“Good morning, Ms. Brooke! I’m guessing you’re at your office now,” she said with a high-pitched tone of her voice. Confirmed. She had already arrived at her office.
Hearing how her voice sounded contained and evident, it was also apparent that she had already arrived at the publishing house. I think I will be late again.
But then, if I would explain what ruckus I had been earlier, she would understand.
“Ms. Rose, I was just about to leave my unit,” I softly let out a sigh and chuckled.
“Come quickly, Ms. Brooke.” I heard her sip something—her morning black tea, perhaps. “Ms. Becky would like to talk to you about her manuscript. She said she’ll arrive in 30 minutes, so around 8:45? You must arrive first before her. Understand, Ms. Brooke?” Ms. Rose ended the call, not even giving me time to explain or something.
“30 minutes? For real?” I hissed to myself. Ms. Rose knows I’m living reasonably close to the publishing house, so she expected I would make it in time for Ms. Becky’s sudden request for a meeting. Ms. Becky is the writer of the manuscript I am currently reviewing and evaluating. In short, in the publishing industry, I’m coaching her in creating her book.
My travel time from my condominium unit to the publishing house will take about 20 minutes if there’s no traffic.
“I need to go now,” I whispered to myself and looked at my watch.
It was already five minutes past eight.
“My shoes!” I groaned when I realized I had started running barefoot. Road traffic was getting heavy in the early morning these past days, so I just took my white sneakers and carried them with the time ticking.
My hands were shaking as I was closing my heavy door. At the same time, the man from earlier was also leaving his unit. Just as I was closing my door, he appeared right in front of me? Really? Oh, how could fate be so mean to me?
“Huh!” I scoffed so loudly and looked at him for a few seconds with glaring eyes of mine, trying to imply to him—like some signal rays were coming from my eyes—how horrible the night was because of him. Not expecting anything, he returned the look and smirked at me, so I just started walking quickly to the elevator while trying to put on my sneakers, my back almost hurting.
It was kind of embarrassing, but I was in a hurry.
“Careful, Miss Forehead.” The man was already beside me, waiting for the elevator to come up as well. Neglecting his sudden appearance, I finished putting on my sneakers and dusted off my cardigan afterward.
“Could you stop calling me that? I was given a name right after I was born,” I spoofed, but he just looked at me for a good few seconds before letting out a burst of soft laughter.
“Alright,” he simply said.
That’s it? No side comment or question at all?
“Well, then, thanks,” I responded and avoided his look.
“Wait, were you expecting me to ask what your name is?”
“What? As if I’m going to tell you. Why bother asking it?
He put his hands inside his pocket and leaned on the metal wall of the elevator before looking at me from toe to head as if there was something wrong with the way I looked. “What’s the rush?” he asked.
“What do you mean what’s the rush? Isn’t it obvious? Work, of course!”
“Yeah, your crumpled pants agree,” he chuckled.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t have enough time to iron it!”
“Whoops! Someone’s a little mad here.”
My eyebrows frowned, and I looked at him, making him quiet.
“I’m going to be late, okay? My work called for a meeting which I didn’t really expect at all since we were supposed to have a meeting the day after tomorrow,” I explained to him.
“Uhm, okay?”
Why did I even explain to him? Not that he cares.
Ding! The elevator finally opened. We both quickly tried to get in, but we entered simultaneously, so we bumped into each other again.
“Sorry. You go ahead first.” The man gestured his arms towards the elevator.
“Thank you,” I said.
I was about to push the button for Parking 1, but we both didn’t realize that we were going to the same floor, so he accidentally slightly touched my index finger too, which he immediately removed, anyway.
“So, you park on Parking 1 as well?” he asked awkwardly.
Okay?
“Pretty obvious,” I answered him awkwardly too.
We were quiet for the next seconds until my phone started ringing again.
“Hello? Yes, Ms. Rose?” Not again, Ms. Rose.
“Ms. Broooooke!” Ms. Rose answered with a singing tone of her which made me pull my phone away from my ear. I slightly saw the man laughing beside me. I’m pretty sure he heard Ms. Rose. When she stopped, I put my phone back on my ear.
“Ms. Rose, why did you call me again? I promise I’m on the way already.”
“Ms. Becky said she’s on the way now too and will be here in less than 20 minutes,” Ms. Rose informed me.
“What? I thought she’ll be there in 30 minutes?” I was panicking.
“Just be quick, Ms. Brooke. Traffic jams ahead.”
“Yes, Ms. Rose. I can see. I’m driving now.” I lied and ended the phone call.
The man beside me laughed. “Driving already? Woah, stop! The light’s on red.”
“Ha-ha, funny!” I faked a laughed and rolled my eyes at him. “If you weren’t singing so—” He was staring at me with a firm face, “—never mind.”
Ding! We arrived at the parking lot. Ignoring him and just thinking of a way to get to the publishing house quicker, I ran to my car as fast as I could and positioned myself in my seat, placing my things at the back. I turned on the ignition to start the car, but I felt that my car didn’t smoothly move when I tried driving already. It felt like there was too much friction on the ground, which made it hard to move.
“No, no. What’s the problem?” I hissed.
I got out of my car with annoyance on my face, and a flat tire greeted me.
“Great! Now what?” I fumed and kicked the tire of my car with my right foot, which kind of hurt, by the way.
“Ouch, ouch!” I held my foot for a while and bent my body a little so that I could check at the tire more closely.
“Really great! Just when you are hurrying.”
I was about to call the car mechanic, but a car stopped in front of me.
“Everything okay, Miss Fore—oops.” It was ‘the’ man again. Just how many times did I see him today? “I mean, whatever is happening?” he asked.
“Flat tire,” I told him, still annoyed.
“Need a ride, then?” he asked and nodded his head in a relaxed way. You know, like one of those famous college students in angst films or books, especially those of movies released in the ‘80s to ‘90s? I stared at him for a few seconds until—
“Are you just going to look at me?”
“Huh?” I shivered and came back to reality.
“No, I’m okay. I’ll just call the mechanic,” I reasoned.
“You sure?” He smiled and looked at his wristwatch.
I quickly took my bag from my car and sat on the man’s shotgun seat of his car. I looked at my wristwatch as well, and it’s already 15 minutes past eight. If I don’t leave now, Ms. Becky will arrive first. I got no choice.
“Thanks,” I said with irritation about what just happened.
“Are you still mad at me? I stopped calling you Ms. Forehead—oops.”
He stopped talking when he realized how he had called me again.
“Thank you again. For the shirt, cardigan, and this, uhm, ride,” I reckoned.
“No problem,” he said and suddenly leaned towards me, so close that our faces were just a few inches away from each other. He looked at me for a few seconds. “Seat belt,” he whispered.
“Ah, right! I forgot,” I awkwardly responded.
The man then started driving. “Where do I take you?” he asked and smiled at me. I noticed that he’s smiling most of the time I’ve seen him. But why was he in a bad mood yesterday?
Ah, never mind.
“Paper Chase,” I answered.
“The publishing house at Mapo-gu? Woah, that’s amazing.”
He sounded so excited, which was quite shocking for me.
“Yes.” I looked at him curiously. “How did you know Paper Chase is a publishing house?”
“Well, I have a good friend working there,” he remarked, his eyes still focused on the roads. My eyes opened widely.
“Really? What’s the name?”
“Roy.”
“Roy? The graphic artist?” I wasn’t sure which Roy the man was referring to because there were three ‘Roys’ in the publishing house if I’m not mistaken. Quite funny, though.
“Yep. But he doesn’t work full-time there. He works freelance in other entertainments too, designing various music albums. And he has his own designing company too,” he explained in detail.
“Ah, I see. That’s why your friend isn’t always around.” I looked out the road outside. “You? How about you? Why are you all dressed up too? What do you do?” I continuously asked him like an interview, my back facing him.
“Me?” he asked just when I looked at him again.
The first thing that I noticed about him was his hair. It’s close to a mullet style and is quite reddish. Wait, it’s more like a very dark ginger-colored style, I think. He’s wearing a lovely beige collared shirt like the color of my shirt, dark blue straight denim pants, and white shoes. He seems to be wearing a small amount of powder and lip tint. He smelled nice, by the way.
“Why? Are you interested in me? Are we in the getting-to-know-you each other already?” He asked with a bit of laughter.
“Interested? You are very assuming, Mister,” I scoffed.
“Well, just like you, I’m going to work.”
“So, you’re going to be late as well?”
“Nah, it’s quite alright.”
As I was about to ask another question, my phone rang again. Ms. Rose’s name appeared on my phone’s screen again. What is it this time?
“Ms. Brooke, no need to rush,” she said on the other line.
I was confused. “Wait, what do you mean? I’m telling you, Ms. Rose, I’m already on the way. Here, if you’d like to hear the wind rushing.” I slightly opened the car’s window to make Ms. Rose believe I was on my way already.
I saw the man giggle at what I did.
“Ms. Brooke, no need for that! Ah, this kid, really. Something urgent came up. Ms. Becky won’t be able to make it this morning.”
“What? Seriously?” My voice sounded frustrated.
“Yes, seriously. You may arrive at exactly 9:00 a.m. or you can also be late. I am allowing you to be late because of the inconvenience. Alright?” Ms. Rose hung up.
All the rush I made earlier, and now the meeting is canceled. Perhaps, I should just come at 9:30 then. I’ll first visit the vintage library near the publishing house and check if they already have the copy I requested last time. I always see that library whenever I have free time or before I go home. Since I was young, I have had an excellent relationship with books, making me the person I am today. Thus, visiting libraries or bookstores is always on my schedule aside from my job.
“So, what’s the matter?” the man asked.
I sighed. “You can just drop me off at the nearest bus station. I’ll just take a bus ride from there. My client canceled the meeting. Now, I was allowed to come at 9:30 so I can be late,” I responded.
He just looked at me and snorted.
“Weren’t able to wear your shoes properly, a flat tire, now—”
I stared at him, which made him stop talking.
“Did you have breakfast? Come with me. Let’s eat.” He offered sincerely.
“Yes. Don’t bother.” I sounded irritated because I really was.
There was silence for three seconds until a disturbing sound broke the silence—it was my stomach growling. Really?
“You sure?” he asked again and laughed like there was no tomorrow.