Don't try to Escape

Chapter 4 - Part III

"Yeah, it's hard to compete with that," instead of a sad tone, I hear a daring tone of voice.

"This view is beautiful, but looks aren't everything," I stop for a moment. "But nowadays they are."

Sam and the people from the agency come in my mind. Thomas tries to understand the point of that talk.

"I mean, all right, this place is beautiful. But it's not everyone who gets to a hotel to have a meal. Practicality and agility make the world turn these days. The ones who enjoy a great view, they rather go to the beach or climbing, right?" I try to cheer him up with my point of view.

He realizes what I am doing, but he didn't say anything. Just keeps his eyes focused on me and nods.

A waiter comes with the wine and places the glasses on the table. The musky smell of the drink reminds me of something I didn't realize before.

"What?" he notices my hesitation.

"I haven't eaten anything yet, maybe wine now is not a good idea."

His eyes get soft.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks, looking relieved.

What did he think I would say?

"Water, please."

"Water? Water and wine? It sounds poetic. Are you sure you want that?"

"Juice, then. Orange juice, please."

The waiter leaves in a rush looking for a drink. I liked your comparison; he and I are like water and wine. I'm a perfect portrayal of water, dull and tasteless, and he is refined and elegant like a good wine. I glance Thomas, he seems so sophisticated and accurate in this suit that the old ladies on the table next to ours twisted their necks when we passed. Though, if I were a drink, I would rather be a Cuban rum. It's not tasty; however, it's not bad, and it feels like I am crying after the third shot. Thomas would be like... hm... let's see. He would be a Black Vodka, famous by its name, but it has an exotic taste. Everybody likes it, but just a few can have it. I smile because this comparison matches perfectly.

"Any jokes?" Thomas asks with some humor.

"I've got some," I answer spontaneously.

He looks at me, waiting for me to continue but I stay in silence. He is still looking at me insistently, and I blush. Damned.

The waiter comes back to our table with the orange juice jar and serves me.

"Relax. You're too tense," Thomas breaks the silence.

He places his glass of wine on the table and stares at me. His voice is controlled and deep.

My glance is in his direction with an interrogative expression.

"Am I?"

"You look tense when you're beside me as if I would attack you anytime. I'm not going to punch my chest and drag you by the hair." He pauses and starts to open a smile. "Only if you ask me to do so."

I almost split the drink in my mouth. Wasn't the agreement about keeping things in the professional level? Why is he trying to tease me all the time?

His smile showed his charming dimples, and who doesn't know him would say it looks angelic, but not me. For me, it seems diabolical in all senses. All of them.

"Do you get women like that?" I ask, looking away from him to conclude my thought.

"Like that how?"

He is calm and seems to enjoy it.