One Tower, Sheikh Zayed Road
The white confines of her bedroom transformed as the bright afternoon sun filtered in through the sheer curtains. Right beside her was her analog clock that read 6 o'clock. Across her bed was the view of the superstructures on the other side of the road, not too great in the day, but fantastic during the night.
She'd just come back from Mauritius this morning, and all she planned was to be lazy for once. Order Indian and read a book to put her back to sleep. But an abrupt panic hit her.
Last month, the gang agreed to request the same dates for their very first vacation. But since none of her friends were the type who planned things, their twelve-day holiday loomed close with no known itinerary. Spontaneity was her group's collective strongest trait, apparently. She shut her eyes, having no energy to even think. If worse comes to worst, she could always fly to Hawaii to visit her parents.
What will be, will be, the notes sang in her head. And just when she was about to doze off, her phone rang.
Malcolm Thompson is calling...
"Ah, she finally answers my call!" he exclaimed.
"Please tell me you're coming with some food. I'm starving and I'm too lazy to move," she said, knowing they shared the same craving for spicy Indian.
"I have something even better. Dinner and drinks at my place tonight. It's my birthday."
"Really?" she sat up, surprised it was today as he looked like a May baby. "Aww, happy birthday, Big Bear!"
Danielle started calling him that since he was a cuddly, caring big guy everybody wanted a hug from.
"Thanks, now rattle your dags. You wouldn't want to miss the cake," he said, sounding like he'd already had a few beers, men yelling in the background, most likely watching a rugby game.
Malcolm had been there for her since the day they met on her first flight to Geneva. When she misplaced her car keys at the Crew Headquarters the other day, she called him to pick her up.
He knew about the situation she had with Eric and Wolff. When he brought Indian takeaway and a few beers before her Mauritius flight, he listened.
"Don't prolong it," was all he said.
It wasn't the advice, but a lending ear and his valuable presence that she needed the most.
The Millenium Tower
In her chic white jumpsuit that showed off her bare back,Veronica entered the building in haste, purse in one hand, a champagne bottle in the other. As she struggled to press the elevator button, she looked up at the lobby's clock. It was already half-past nine, and she was late.
There was always an unwritten option to be fashionably late, so she'd purposefully taken a quick nap. No sweat since Malcolm's apartment was one building away from her.
The problem with being a flight attendant was that their body clock mirrored their monthly roster. They were both messed up. Trust that if she had an afternoon nap, she'd wake up, hungry and full of energy at three in the morning. If Drew didn't ring her twenty minutes ago, that would've been her fate on repeat.
"Do you need some help?" asked a familiar voice behind her.
Veronica turned, and her eyes fell on the last person she expected to see. It was Eric Klein, grinning from ear to ear, looking ridiculously handsome in a navy pullover and dark pants.
"Eric!" she exclaimed as they exchanged three cheek kisses.
"You look stunning, as usual, Veronica," he smiled.
God, she missed him, even if he'd forgotten about her.
"Are you here for Malcolm's birthday?" she asked.
"Yes," he lifted the bottle of champagne in his hand.
She, too, showed off her gift, chuckling at how similar they were in more ways than one.
They walked into the crowded apartment of attractive cabin crew and muscled kiwi men, some of them pro rugby players playing for the Dubai team. All congregated in the kitchen, toasting to a few beers. She recognized a few of them as they all greeted her with a kiss.
"Thanks for coming, man. I'm glad you're in the region," Malcolm hugged Eric after introducing him to everyone.
"Hey, I'm happy you called."
After some catching up with Drew and Danielle while watching sports on TV, a few of them grumbled at the testosterone overload. So half the crowd had gone up on the roof deck for a night swim in the heated pools.
Veronica stood up to get another glass of wine in the kitchen while Eric left the boys and followed her.
"I'm going upstairs for some air," she said as she replenished their glasses.
"I'll come with you," he said.
"What about the rugby match?" she teased.
"I can always watch the replay later."
The ultra fast speed elevator took them up to the 88th floor in less than ten seconds. Before taking him to the pool area, she asked him to follow her to a secret spot only a few people knew about.
"Are we allowed to enter?" Eric hesitated, admiring her tanned skin. He'd never broken any rules in his life.
"Of course, not," she giggled. "Why do you think it's empty? Wait here. Close your eyes and give me your hand. Watch your step."
"You're making me nervous," he said, following her orders, getting a thrill from her touch.
"Trust me, I won't let you fall."
Too late. As if she hadn't already.
When she told him to open his eyes, he looked around and gasped at the glittery cityscape. She'd led him to a viewing deck of enclosed glass. The walls were high, but there was a slit wide enough for them to capture the complete view of Sheikh Zayed Road at night.
"Wow, I didn't expect this," he smiled at how content she was for sharing her joys with him.
"Drew discovered this spot and when he took me here for the first time, I was shaking. To this day, I still fear heights, but this is the only spot I can let go of my fear. Isn't this city spectacular?" she beamed.
"It is, but I prefer nature over concrete. I'm a country boy at heart," he smiled.
"So was I. But, it's nice to switch it up."
She stepped back and sat on the matte concrete floor, putting her wineglass and phone next to each other.
"How's everything been going for you?" he sat beside her after a quiet moment of separation.
"Hmm... since Hatta? A lot, actually," she avoided his gaze.
"I'm sorry if I haven't called. I've been swamped at work, shuttling between Doha and Dubai. On the weekend, I flew to Bahrain and Saudi Arabia," he explained.
He gulped hard, knowing he could have sent her a message, at least. Even if she didn't say anything, he knew that's what she felt.
"I don't talk to Wolff anymore," she looked straight into his eyes as he spotted a tinge of hurt.
"What happened?" he asked, wondering what Wolff did on his end to ruin it for himself.
"I think," she paused, being careful with her words. "It's a waste of time and effort. Why go out of your way for a girl who lives so far away?" she wondered.
"You're not just a girl, Veronica."
As he watched her silently sip the last drop of wine and place the glass neatly on a narrow concrete lip, he swallowed another set of guilt, sensing the widening gap between them. He was on the same continent, with her, as they spoke, but had done nothing significant to pursue her.
Being gone for a week and immersing himself at work, he had made little to no effort whatsoever, giving most of the advantage to his best friend who lived thousands of miles away. He could only imagine the many creative ways Wolff did while he took his sweet time, thinking Veronica would always be there waiting for him.
Truth is, he liked her a whole damn lot. But the powerful yet rash attraction between them posed a risk, much like the fast-paced lifestyle here. He feared he'd get sucked into her world too fast and get fed up with it when things go sour. Falling easily out of love, like how he's now falling for her too quickly, wasn't what he planned for.
Suddenly, her phone rang. He couldn't help but look at the screen flashing in front of him.
Philippe Thibodeaux is calling...
She seemed to hesitate, but she answered it anyway. When she swiped to respond, a face of a good-looking man with thick blonde hair appeared on the screen. He greeted her in French with a Quebec accent. She stood up and excused herself.
Who is he? Is this why she'd stopped talking to Wolff?
Merde, she's entertaining other men!
"Alors, à vendredi. Bonne nuit," he heard her say as she shuffled around, her eyes reading the marks on the ground.
When she ended the call and walked back to him, he felt some sort of anger building up inside of him.
"Do you want to come with me to grab a bite?" she asked.
He looked at his watch. "At one in the morning?"
He stared at her curvy figure, her sexy shoulders shrugging, her thick black wavy hair flowing as the city blew more sensual magic on her. She wasn't his or Wolff's, and he had no right to be mad at her. And if ever there was someone to blame, it was him. He hadn't given her the attention she deserved. And now, he and his best friend were losing to a man from Quebec.
He had a meeting at nine in the morning, but tonight became more like a mission to get her back. Before heading out, he watched as she opened the fire exit to store their empty wine glasses safely beside the staircase. She said she'll come back to get them tomorrow.
As they entered the highway in his rented Porsche Cayenne, he marveled at how everything in Dubai transformed. Suddenly, the city had potential. The road widened; the traffic was now free flowing, and so were his sudden realizations.
Damn it, he was such an idiot! He feared it all came too late, allowing her to slip away in just a matter of days.
She took him to Bur Dubai, the center that never sleeps. After parking, they crossed the other side of the street to get to a Lebanese restaurant.
"This is where everyone goes after a long night of partying," she revealed.
True enough, the place was jam-packed with young people as if it was lunchtime on a Friday. As they entered the open restaurant, they squeezed in between the tables and chairs. The smell of za'atar baking in the stone ovens was heavenly. There were no more seats, so they ordered theirs to go. As soon as their food was ready, they got out and placed the food on top of the hood of her car. The fresh February weather that morning blew past their faces. He looked at her while she bit an edge of the slice.
"Mmm, so good," she savored with delight.
Eric wished she didn't say it like that, as it roused his flesh, the frustration amplifying within.
"You really like it here in Dubai, don't you?" he said, taking a bite.
She was right, though. The bread was excellent. The za'atar toppings were out of this world.
"I love it here. I think I'll live here for a very long time. What about you? Have you thought about extending your stay?"
"It's a vibrant city, and it's good to stay a few months to experience a luxurious life. But it gets lonely," he confessed. "Since I met you, my perspectives have altered. You, Malcolm, and your friends have taught me to loosen up and embrace change."
"I'm glad you're giving it a chance."
After eating in comfortable silence, she looked at him and said, "Please don't tell Wolff you saw me."
Her request surprised him.
"May I ask why?"
"It'll complicate things."
"I'm sorry if I haven't been trying too hard."
"You shouldn't. These things should come naturally."
She waited for him to say something, but he froze, still stuck on the fact that she was flirting with another man other than his best friend. This threw him under the bus.
"You're seeing someone else."
"I'm trying to live my life."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
Disappointment now fogged his judgement. He was mad at himself for his complacency and careless arrogance for not kissing her that night in Hatta. She'd already stopped talking to Wolff, so it only meant one thing.
"Does this mean you don't want to see me anymore?"
She looked thrown off by what he said, but immediately shook it off.
His heart sank in a black hole, his biggest fear was about to reveal itself.
"Eric, I think it would be best if we stopped seeing each other."
* End of Chapter 20 *