He ignored me and my presence like I was just a part of the air in the room; I was an invisible ghost to him, part of the thin air.
Eva, on the other hand, was curious about me, why I hadn't made an appearance all this time, and she wanted to play against me since she knew that I was going to be part of the team presenting the club, but I declined and promised her a match next week. I have other things to focus on right now.
She wasn't satisfied, but it kept her satiated for now. Although she still had her attention on me—not the attention I wanted, or asked for.
Eva was in investigator mode, and I couldn't stop her from bugging me. She asked about my studies, my major, my current job, my dream job, where I'm from, where I'd like to live, and if I have a boyfriend, and the answers were obvious. But why the sudden curiosity?
She was into something, and I knew she'd tell me at some point, so I didn't want to seem thirsty for information.
Sam kept focusing on his games, winning every match, exchanging a few words, and sometimes smiling at his opponent.
Sam's looks are beyond this world; he's way out of my league in the looks department, and my rejecting him makes no sense. Yet I did, and here I am regretting it. He occupied my mind way more than it should, only to realize late enough that I was into him.
I was sitting across the room, and looking at him reminded me of the feeling he gave me when our eyes met, and my favorite was when I caught him stealing gazes at me while I wasn't looking. Now, I'm here, and his eyes didn't try to steal a look, not even once.
He was unable to take away his eyes that night, and on the day of the famous meeting, I could see how hard he tried to keep himself under control.
Now he doesn't look in any direction, not even by accident. He's ignoring me, and I hate it. His attention is the only thing I want at this moment; it's the only thing that would quench my exigency thirst.
Being in the same space as him feels different, yet somehow familiar. I wonder now if I can ever control the tides between us. Seeing how bad this situation is, and I know I got myself here, the result I desire is far from obtainable and I feel powerless.
No matter how helpless this is or how deep I'm in this pit of the unknown, I have to try to find out if he's really not into me anymore and just acting hard to get. The only way to make sure that I bring his interest or disinterest to the surface is to tell him the truth that he probably saw in my eyes, and felt in my touch, but never in my words.
Sam has been playing for some time now, winning every time. This game is like drinking water to him; it's so natural.
It's getting pretty late, and people are leaving one by one. Eva received a call and took it outside, and she hasn't come back yet.
I'm not an attention whore; I can vouch for myself; I never sought it from anyone, unless it was a friend and I needed to talk or something, I think that can be considered the right amount to ask for.
But now, this is different; this kind of glutinous appetite is new to me, something I've never experienced, something I never thought I could want from anyone.
Once Sam won his last game, he started looking around for someone else to play with him, avoiding me, of course. I thought to myself that I probably should play with him since Eva hasn't come back, and maybe she won't; it's been some time now, and something may have happened. Anyhow, I'll text her and check if she's fine.
But now I have a game to play and hopefully win, even if I don't think that's possible. I won't lie to myself, and it's not like I need to win; I just need him to talk to me, look at me, and acknowledge my presence.
Therefore, I walked towards his table and sat across from him. He was tall, and the table wasn't big enough for both our legs, so our knees touched. This indirect touch made my body shiver a little. But he moved as soon as we touched, even through layers of clothes, he didn't want to touch me, and maybe he'd reject playing with me.
I put a smile on my face, as genuine as it could be, since my face doesn't always convey what I'm really feeling, resting bitch face problems.
He, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. I even thought for a split second that I was invisible, soundless, and inexistent. He avoided me in every way possible, and this is making me furious, yet I can't act angry.
I didn't know how to break this thick ice or jump these high walls he built between us. It pains me that I was the one to blame for this situation, so I truly need to find a way to get done with it and get back what I could have had or who I could have had.
You're invincible, my Lord," I said with a smile.
"Mhm," he mumbled.
"Would you care to play with me? I've asked
"I think I have to leave; it's getting late," he said while he took a stand and kept his eyes on the door.
I followed him with no hesitation; my body acted off-script. "When will you stop running away from me?" I said, a bit loudly, with an exclamatory and questioning tone.
He ignored me and my question. Then he kept walking to the door, to reach the elevator.
"So ignoring me would fix everything? Is that what you think?" I blurted.
" Not ignoring you has only created more problems, so yes, it will," he proclaimed.
I stood next to him, staring at the side of his face, while he looked at the screen showing which floor the elevator reached. I felt defeated and lost a battle before I even had a chance to fight.
"Sam, I know I messed up; I know I acted on hasty decisions." I tried to explain, but he didn't budge. Instead, he walked into the elevator as the door opened. I followed him inside.
"Sam, please; there must be something I can do to prove my sincerity to you," I stated.
He laid his eyes on me for the first time. I missed the feeling of his eyes on me; his eyes touching my skin felt more sensual than his actual touch. His gaze fixated on my eyes. and mine were lingering in the little hope this situation was offering me. I kept my eyes glued to his.
"You did everything you could to prove your intentions." He said with disgust in his voice.
I know this is going to be a hard mission to accomplish, and I find it harder than expected, but at least I'm getting words out of him. That's something.
"What I did was wrong, but you've got to be a little understanding, would you?"
"Oh! Yeah, I understand. I am very understanding. The woman I treated with nothing but respect rejected me like I was a piece of shit, not even in a decent way. And now she wants to talk and show her true intentions. Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don't care about your intentions or how apologetic you are! So if you'll excuse me," he said, walking out of the elevator.
He made my world tremble; this was an earthquake. I could feel my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces and my mind froze. I thought that I could thaw the ice, but this was too cold for me, frozen deep inside.
I followed him and rushed to reach him; his steps were too long, and instead of walking, he strode. Keeping up with him was a hard task, so I had to speed up my pace and move with haste. I was finally by his side, now that I kind of gasped for air.
"You understand nothing, Sam. I know I've hurt you in the past, and now I want to apologize and make it up for you, but here you are shutting me down and playing the victim."
"So you're the victim; I'm sorry!" He replied with a smirk and a sarcastic tone.
"No, that's not what I meant, and would you please slow down a notch?" I said with a cracked voice.
He stopped, turned in my direction, and looked at me with a sardonic gaze. These aren't the eyes I missed or the ones I loved to have on me. He was asking questions with his eyes, and he was telling me that this was the last chance I had to explain myself and talk to him. There are only two possibilities that would happen after this, either the door would close once and for all or his wall would start cracking.
"I know I've been a selfish brat, but I never felt this way about anyone; I didn't know what I was feeling, I was afraid of my emotions, and I didn't like the idea of being in a vulnerable, receptive state. I felt weak, and that's one feeling that terrifies me," I said, my eyes on the ground. I couldn't be this open and sensitive while maintaining my confidence. It was an impossible task to accomplish for me, but I did it somehow.
"Rose, I won't interrupt your self-discovery journey," he said with an honest stare. I knew he was truthful; anyone could see it, not just me. He's the most obvious person I've ever known; his face is the gate to his mind. But he has a great poker face, which he pulls for his matches.
He was standing there; I could see his shadow, I could feel his presence. My head was too heavy to lift, I was too shy to face him, and I didn't want to know how he'd react. It's not that I don't want to know, but I'm afraid to know.
While I was staring at the paves on the sidewalk, I thought he'd spit something again and stun me, blocking every word from finding its way out of my mouth or even being made into a reasonable sentence in my brain.
He reached his hand to my chin, and with a soft, swift touch, he lifted my face so that our eyes met.
The eyes he gave me made my buttery insides melt, and the butterflies went for a spin. It was something I wanted but didn't expect, seeing how reticent Sam was. I used to think of this feeling as torturous turmoil, but now it's different; it feels like a warm meal in the middle of winter or like putting the last puzzle piece into place. This was an odd sentiment, coated with satisfaction.
He kept our eyes locked for a while, and his gaze had this seriousness about it, something I only saw on his face twice, when he was working or when he was playing against a good player.
He steadily, yet slowly, leaned towards me, our faces getting closer and our lips getting closer. I don't know what he's aiming to do or how he intends to play.
It only took him a split second to press his lips on mine with tenderness and passion, while he maintained my head in place with his right hand.
When he pulled back, he looked at me with the same eyes, "Perhaps this is what you actually missed!" He declares, just as if he's stating a fact.