ELOISE
I was working on my laptop when I heard my phone ringing in my bag. I thought maybe it was my mechanic wanting to tell me that my car has been serviced, until I saw that familiar digits from yesterday.
Ugh! God!
Why is he calling me now? Even during working hours? Doesn't he have something important to do?
With all the aggression invested inside of me, I poured it out on him. "Do you have a problem? Why are you calling me during office hours?"
"Because I couldn't wait till night. Besides, don't tell me you're actually working." That's the problem. He's always sounding soft as if this was just meant to be normal.
And of which, it can never be! "I am working!" Is he dumb? Today is Wednesday and he gets to ask me that? Stupid.
"Really? Then why did you pick up my call so quickly?" Cheeky again. I just wish he was near me so I could break his head.
But come to think of it...did I picked the call so fast? But I once said I thought it was my mechanic. Because my car was at the service shop.
I can't bring myself to tell him that and if I stay more silent than this, he'll think his instincts were right.
"Because I didn't know it was you." I mumbled. Even barely hearing myself.
I felt him grinning through the line "You saved my number. Progress."
How is that possible? Can he even hear himself? He's talking off point. I just said I never knew it was him calling and that is to clarify that I didn't save his number. And now, he said I saved it.
Foolish man.
"Don't flatter yourself." I told him. "I had to, so I know when not to pick up." I only recognise the number from yesterday's call. There was no time to save before falling asleep.
"And yet… here we are, talking. I win again." shame on him if he thinks this is a win-win battle.
I took a deep breath to cool down my nerves. It's still too early to freak out. And it's too early to have a bad day as well.
I seriously don't know what he wants. I already gave out my number thinking THIS pestering would stop but it only worsen.
I leaned back on my chair, "You're unbelievable."
"So you keep saying. But last night I made you laugh."
Did he?
George vs Eloise, talking throughout the night. Hilarious. Even the thought made me laugh without knowing.
I sighed, trying not to smile. "You're crazy, trust me when I tell you that."
"You see? I got it out of you once again." This guyyyyyyy?
"You're ridiculous." I chuckled.
"And you love it. Which is why I'm cashing in my reward: dinner tonight." he suddenly asked.
Wait, wait, wait, wait. What?
No.
I became instantly serious. "No. I can't." I lean back on my table and continue working.
"Can't or won't?" he said. But doesn't seem disappointed at all.
But why did he want to have dinner with me? I'm suspecting this is a date I'm clearly not ready for. "I'm… busy."
"Busy avoiding me, you mean. Come on, stubborn angel, it's just one dinner. I promise not to bite." his voice low with concern.
I sensed how much he wants to have his good time with me but..... I'm not just use to this kind of things. I'm used to living my life. Just me alone and now, suspicious tells me he wants to break in from somewhere. "No. I just can't, George. I'm very busy and my schedules are tight. Very occupied."
I've never seen myself explaining things to people because I owe no one explanation but right now, I'm doing the opposite. I'm trying to make the thorn in my flesh understand something.
I heard him sigh from the other side, kind of he was a bit still hoping in me. "Then let me plead—please. Just one evening. If you hate it, you'll never hear me ask again."
I groaned, to the extent of rubbing my forehead. "You're relentless."
"Relentless, charming, persistent—choose whichever makes you smile. So… is that a yes?" his steady breathing made me know he was waiting patiently for my answer.
After a long pause, I finally gave in. "…Fine. One dinner. But don't think this means anything."
Neither a date either.
He's smiling now. "Of course not. Strictly business… until dessert."
Dessert? Meaning what exactly? "You're impossible."
"Good. I'll pick you up at seven." Now, he's the one going to pick me not me driving to the address.
Oh, my car. It only had a flat tyre and I hope it's working fine in the mechanic shop now.
------
We came to this classic extravagant English restaurant and ever since we got here, his cheeky stares and continuous smiles makes me uncomfortable.
"I'll admit, I wasn't sure you'd actually come." he smiled.
I can't bring myself to face him. It's just so uncomfortable sitting inside a VIP section, all alone with a man.
This is not me.
"Neither was I. I nearly changed my mind."
He laughed. "And miss the chance to scold me in person? Impossible."
Crazy.
The side of my lips twitched upwards, the type that showed I was holding a smile. "You enjoy being scolded, don't you?"
"Well, um..." He shrugged. "Only by you. Anyone else, I'd walk away."
Menus were taken, orders were placed — and that brought a small pause between us.
"So tell me," he started. Bringing himself closer to the table like this was some business meeting. "What was little you like? Were you always this stubborn?"
Me? Stubborn?
I laughed, "I wasn't stubborn. I just knew what I wanted." Simple. The fact.
"Ah, interesting." His blue eyes lit. Finding happiness in whatever was glued in my eyes. "And what did you want back then?"
I snort, shrugging. "Books. Music. Quiet. Not annoying men with cheeky smiles."
He grinned widely. "Careful, I might take that personally."
I roll my eyes, "As you should." Our food arrived and we dig in, especially me. I was super hungry at the moment.
"So, favourite colour? I assume red."
Is he kidding me? I chuckled. "Judging from my hair, I guess? Nope. Yellow."
He shook his head, "Maybe I guessed wrongly."
"And you?" I find myself asking. He's always on English dress all the time so I can't do a little bit of mix up guesses in the outfit he's wearing.
"White."
Oh. I can almost imagine that. No wonder he is always neat. People who love white can take the stress of it, abstaining from anything dirty.
Later, the dimensions changes. He's in a more serious tone—still in a friendly way but far from being cheeky. "You know, you wear armour even at dinner."
My brows creased slightly, "Armour?"
He dropped his fork, concentrating on me now, "You push people back. You don't let anyone close."
Tsk.
He was actually right. That's me. Always avoiding people and never sociable.
I was quiet for a moment, "Better that way."
"Maybe. But one day, someone will slip past it." he whispered.
I shook my head, deflects with humour, "And you think that's you?"
He smiled lightly, not pressing, "Not tonight. Tonight, I'm just the man buying you dinner."
Later over dessert, I said, "This doesn't change anything. Just so you know."
"Of course not. It's only dinner. But I should warn you—I'll be asking again." This guy is a jackass.
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide a smile "You're ridiculous."
"And you're laughing again. So I'd say dinner was a success." Okay, nice try. He got me on that one.
-------
We stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night air. I fold my arms against the breeze while he casually tucks his hands in his pockets, walking beside me. The street is lit softly, our footsteps falling in rhythm.
"Well, dinner's done. I'll admit it was nice. You can stop grinning now." I said. Half-teasing, half-wary.
He glances at me, a smirk lingering on his lips, "Why would I stop? You laughed at least five times. That's a record."
What the.....
Did I?
I try not to laugh but I failed. Woefully. It came out louder than I least expected. "Don't count my laughs."
"How can I not, when they're so rare and expensive?" he chuckled. Obviously happy that he could pull out the sixth laughs in me.
I shook my head, pretending to be unimpressed. We came to halt when we reached his black Rolls‑Royce Cullinan.
"George.....This doesn't mean I'll say yes next time." I told him when he opened the passenger door for me.
He leans slightly toward me, voice low, "You say that every time. And yet—here we are."
I arch my brow, "Persistent, aren't you?"
"I told you before—persistent, not insufferable." he shrugged.
"Debatable." I murmured.
We stopped. For a moment, neither of us moved or talked. The night carries a hush, only the distant hum of traffic filling the pause. I noticed him, studying my face, but that doesn't crowd me—he keeps the space just enough for me to feel safe yet aware of him.
Then gently out of the blue, I heard him say, "You know… you don't have to smile at me if you don't want to. But don't hide it when you do."
Caught off guard, I quickly looked away, "You talk too much."
"And you dodge too well." he chuckled softly.
I shook my head and entered the car. He shut the door right after me and hopped into the driver's side.
------
Later when he pulled up at my father's gate, he sighed. "I'll like us to do this some other time."
Some fucking what?
When I looked at him, he was staring deeply into my eyes, one arm rested on the steering wheel.
I don't know if it would be normal for a second trial but this first one was nothing bad at all.
"Maybe." I shrugged and turn my eyes from him to the door. "Goodnight."
That was all I've got to say. And I hope he doesn't press forward from this.
"Goodnight." He nodded, tugging in a smile.
The moment I got into the mansion, mom stepped out of the kitchen. She stare at me like I've got something by my forehead and I didn't know.
"What?" I asked and she shrugged.
"Nothing." She disappeared into the kitchen again but I didn't miss that suspicious look on her face.
Was she spying on me before I walked in or what?
Nevermind. I need a cold shower and a good sleep now.