with her.
Cautiously, like a hunter I maneuvered with
vigilance. A kiss and she’d be clay in my hands. No such luck.
Another jolt from the elevator car made it move―stupid thing. I
stood up and helped her stand from the floor. She was tall, around
six inches, maybe seven, shy from my six three. Those heels weren’t
as big as I predicted. I picked up her shoes from the floor and
handed them to her, and she thanked me with a smile. The perfect
moment to taste those pouty lips; however, the doors opened on the
third floor where the concierge, manager, and other hotel personal
waited for us. We thanked them and made our way to floor number
five using the emergency stairs. She didn’t want to risk spending
the night inside an elevator.
When we reached the fifth floor, I opened the
emergency door for her to go in, but before she left me standing, I
lightly grabbed her elbow. “Not so fast, beautiful, you’re skipping
a step.” She lightly turned toward me, and now we almost faced each
other. Her cheeks were two or three shades lighter than red. “The
hero gets a kiss after the rescue.”
“Silly me,” she said, and placed her lips
over my cheek. I moved fast enough to receive a half kiss on the
lips. Wide eyes, she froze for a second before moving away and
waving. “Have a great life, hero.”
“I will if you give me your name and number.”
I kept holding the door open waiting for her to throw something my
way. “You read the stories, watched the movies, don’t mess up with
the script, babe. Destiny brought us together.”
“Serendipity,” she said loud, and quickly she
covered her mouth with her hand shrugging. “If it’s meant to be,
you’ll see me again, so long for now.” Her composed voice lingered
for a few more minutes with her sweet aroma. I waited until she got
inside a room, and then I went back to the emergency stairs,
heading down.
I made my way back to the party, where my
brothers and I drank another beer and visited with Dad. A month
later serendipity brought us back, at JFK airport where a plane
would take her to Sweden, while I just landed in America. It was
worth taking a commercial plane instead of flying my own plane. She
declined my request for a name or a number, only a peck on the lips
and a beautiful smile. Two months later. Bam, my lucky strike.
Late afternoon on a Saturday I went to the
pub while Mom and Mitch—my twin brother—finished their acquisitions
for his restaurant in New York. There she was, curly brown-reddish
hair, light jacket covering her canary yellow dress, and shoes that
matched perfectly. No boyfriend, girlfriend or husband. The table
contained a salad bowl; and a plate with fish and chips—cliché
English food. When I approached, I startled her with my voice. “Is
this seat taken?”
Not waiting for an answer, I pulled the chair
next to her and sat. Ignoring her stare, I signal the waitress who
rushed to take my order. Beer on tap and fish and chips. By then I
understood that this pretty girl’s eyes changed color with her
mood, from puzzled, to excited and finally annoyed. All in under
ten seconds—adorable.
“Stalker,” she said, and pinched a spinach
leaf, chewing on it before her next sentence. “How do you do it,
did you attach a tracking device while I wasn’t watching?”
“Damn, I never thought about that one.” I
faked regret and moved close enough to give her a lingering kiss on
the lips, they froze—no response from her part. But her eyes went a
little green with a few speckles of brown. “Paid that friend of
yours.” She arched an eyebrow, grasping her fork tight.
“Serendipity. And it brought me my lucky strike.” I winked at her.
“Charged me an eye and leg to set this up, now can I get a
name?”
A sincere laugh began, and continued for
minutes as she hugged herself tightly with both arms. It satisfied
me to see her smile that way. She seemed the kind of person who
took everything too serious when others
Cautiously, like a hunter I maneuvered with
vigilance. A kiss and she’d be clay in my hands. No such luck.
Another jolt from the elevator car made it move―stupid thing. I
stood up and helped her stand from the floor. She was tall, around
six inches, maybe seven, shy from my six three. Those heels weren’t
as big as I predicted. I picked up her shoes from the floor and
handed them to her, and she thanked me with a smile. The perfect
moment to taste those pouty lips; however, the doors opened on the
third floor where the concierge, manager, and other hotel personal
waited for us. We thanked them and made our way to floor number
five using the emergency stairs. She didn’t want to risk spending
the night inside an elevator.
When we reached the fifth floor, I opened the
emergency door for her to go in, but before she left me standing, I
lightly grabbed her elbow. “Not so fast, beautiful, you’re skipping
a step.” She lightly turned toward me, and now we almost faced each
other. Her cheeks were two or three shades lighter than red. “The
hero gets a kiss after the rescue.”
“Silly me,” she said, and placed her lips
over my cheek. I moved fast enough to receive a half kiss on the
lips. Wide eyes, she froze for a second before moving away and
waving. “Have a great life, hero.”
“I will if you give me your name and number.”
I kept holding the door open waiting for her to throw something my
way. “You read the stories, watched the movies, don’t mess up with
the script, babe. Destiny brought us together.”
“Serendipity,” she said loud, and quickly she
covered her mouth with her hand shrugging. “If it’s meant to be,
you’ll see me again, so long for now.” Her composed voice lingered
for a few more minutes with her sweet aroma. I waited until she got
inside a room, and then I went back to the emergency stairs,
heading down.
I made my way back to the party, where my
brothers and I drank another beer and visited with Dad. A month
later serendipity brought us back, at JFK airport where a plane
would take her to Sweden, while I just landed in America. It was
worth taking a commercial plane instead of flying my own plane. She
declined my request for a name or a number, only a peck on the lips
and a beautiful smile. Two months later. Bam, my lucky strike.
Late afternoon on a Saturday I went to the
pub while Mom and Mitch—my twin brother—finished their acquisitions
for his restaurant in New York. There she was, curly brown-reddish
hair, light jacket covering her canary yellow dress, and shoes that
matched perfectly. No boyfriend, girlfriend or husband. The table
contained a salad bowl; and a plate with fish and chips—cliché
English food. When I approached, I startled her with my voice. “Is
this seat taken?”
Not waiting for an answer, I pulled the chair
next to her and sat. Ignoring her stare, I signal the waitress who
rushed to take my order. Beer on tap and fish and chips. By then I
understood that this pretty girl’s eyes changed color with her
mood, from puzzled, to excited and finally annoyed. All in under
ten seconds—adorable.
“Stalker,” she said, and pinched a spinach
leaf, chewing on it before her next sentence. “How do you do it,
did you attach a tracking device while I wasn’t watching?”
“Damn, I never thought about that one.” I
faked regret and moved close enough to give her a lingering kiss on
the lips, they froze—no response from her part. But her eyes went a
little green with a few speckles of brown. “Paid that friend of
yours.” She arched an eyebrow, grasping her fork tight.
“Serendipity. And it brought me my lucky strike.” I winked at her.
“Charged me an eye and leg to set this up, now can I get a
name?”
A sincere laugh began, and continued for
minutes as she hugged herself tightly with both arms. It satisfied
me to see her smile that way. She seemed the kind of person who
took everything too serious when others
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