Love Me, Mikayla

II

He knows about my relationship with Ibzan. If he proceeds with the truth, I may punch him in the face or even scratch it. My nails are also newly made. Barak should pray for it.

I park the car and walk inside the building. He invited me to a cafe for this conversation. He could have selected another place but for me, this one is better. I can have two cups of coffee or tea if the conversation goes longer than expected.

Keeping my overcoat on my forearm, I begin looking for him around. The place is not very crowded, making it easier for me.

I don't know how much he has changed in these years but it is easy to find him among people because of his blond hair.

Biting back a smile, I spot his blond head among the black ones. His back faces me as he is sitting on the brown leather couch. The table he has selected is right beside the glass wall. Behind the table, there is a dark wall, decorated with neon quotes and hanging vines.

Nice choice.

I walked over to him, not excited even a bit.

A waitress is attending a table, collecting the stuff. I reach the table and right then, the waitress bends, accidentally pushing me onto him.

And I fell over him, gasping.

My arms encircle his neck while his hand touches my back, warm fingers kissing my skin because the dress being backless — not too much, I must add.

He does it to balance me, holding himself so that my weight accidentally won't push him on the couch. Thoughtful. Or else I would have made him my bed.

With eyes wide open, I stare at him dumbfounded. His electric blue eyes stare deep into mine, fascinating and alluring my very soul to drown in them — how beautiful.

With parted lips, his soft breaths tingle the skin of my lips and on his cheeks, there is a slight pink hue. Is he too shy or it's because of the cold weather, I wonder.

But I wonder very deep inside, not even realizing that this is not my first concern.

For the time being, I'm embarrassed. I quickly gather myself and turn around, immediately having the waitress bow as she apologizes to me.

"Can't you see? You just pushed me onto him!" I can't help but utter, frowning at her.

"I'm so sorry, Miss. I had no idea you were—" Just shut up with your stupid excuses!

"It's okay. She's my fiancée." I feel the warmth of his presence behind my back as he stands up, too. He comes closer, his feather touch lingering over my shoulder.

What the hell! We aren't even engaged yet. I frown at the lie, looking at him from the corner of my eye but all of a sudden, I question this height difference.

He is so tall! I can only reach his shoulder. I could have selected heels but they won't look good on this outfit.

"Oh," the waitress chirps, "God bless you, Sir and Madam. How pretty you two look together." Oh shut up, you blind woman. We don't look good together — at all!

I hear him humming in response and the waitress leaves.

My mood is ruined, to be honest. After she leaves, I turn around, jerking him away, and take my seat in front of him. He also makes himself comfortable and once again, my eyes greet his face.

I had no expectations from him, and I am not lying because he was always this pretty.

Being an adorable — ahem, I'm not head over heels already — son of a handsome father, I knew he would grow into a man just like his father. Haven't I seen Mr Dawood? No doubt, Blondie has inherited those mesmerizing features except for his blue eyes and blond hair. But that doesn't subtract even a pinch of handsomeness from his features.