Chapter 7 Get dressed and find a new guy at the party

Three days had passed since the incident and I had never once seen Marco again. However, the memory of him didn't want to leave my head, nor did the pain of the gunshot wound on my left shoulder.

Thankfully, the shot only grazed the periphery of the shoulder, no deep tissue, no bones hit. That meant I didn't need to go to a hospital, which saved me from having to answer awkward questions about how I got shot. And let's face it, without me saying a word, any doctor would've guessed it had something to do with the cafeteria shootout. If that happened, the police would get involved. They'd interrogate me, Marco's name would definitely come up, and the little "accident" I caused a few days ago would be dug up, too.

I'm not safe. I've had almost two run-ins with the police in my day here. And both of them were related to Marco. According to what I heard at his house when he called Isaac, Marco is indeed a suspicious person. Ninety percent of me was convinced that Marco was a bad guy who was always being chased by people and cops, but the remaining ten percent was the fact that I wanted him, I missed him, and I was crazy for thinking about him.

Frustrated, I slammed my laptop shut. I'd gone through dozens of social media accounts under the name "Marco," and not a single one belonged to him. Maybe if I knew his last name, I could narrow things down.. Unfortunately, other than the fact that he had a friend named Isaac (who I also searched for and couldn't find), I didn't know anything else. In fact, Isaac didn't even mention his last name either.

"I'm starting to wonder what kind of guy your 'knight in shining armor' is to have you this messed up," Kim teased as she emerged from the bathroom.

Knight in shining armor. I lied to Kim, telling her some guy saved me during the cafeteria incident. Which, technically, wasn't a complete lie-Marco did save me-but I left out the part where he was also the reason it happened in the first place.

"You'd get it if you saw him in person."

"Very mysterious, huh? I mean, why did he call me with a private number?"

"Exactly."

"Or maybe..." Kim shot me a weird look that made me pay attention, only for her to grin and say, "...he didn't want you to know his number?"

"You're the worst!" I threw a pen cap at her as she walked away, laughing her head off.

"Seriously, though. Forget about him, get dressed, and find a new guy at the party tonight."

Kim's coworker was throwing a party tonight, and she'd insisted I tag along. She'd said it wouldn't hurt to spend my last night here partying. Nothing to lose, she'd claimed, and who knows? Something memorable might happen to help me forget about him.

A long-sleeve bodycon mini dress was already hanging on the rack. It was jet-black with features that leave both of my waists exposed. Kim bought it for me, as an inducement for me to come with her. And she knew I wouldn't be able to refuse the invitation because I didn't want the money to go to waste. Classic Kim move.

***

During the party, I stayed away from Kim. I chose to stay out of the way a bit, observing how radiant Kim was among the people. She's the kind of person who likes to interact with many people at once, while I'm not that kind of person. Sometimes I marveled at how high Kim's confidence was, how she could easily blend in with people, and how she was able to bewitch people to notice her intelligence.

"You all by yourself?" A voice broke through my thoughts. A guy stood nearby, holding a glass identical to mine.

I straightened up a little, trying to be polite. "Technically, I'm here with a friend. Realistically, yeah, I'm alone."

"Your friend-he's a guy?" he probed.

"My friend is that girl over there." I nodded toward Kim. "We're 180 degrees apart on things like this."

"Miss Chan really does shine," he remarked.

"You know Kim?"

He chuckled, switching his glass to his left hand and extending his right to me. "I'm Fred, one of her coworkers."

I shook his hand. "Leandra, her best friend. What about you? Why aren't you mingling?"

Fred shook his head. "We're 125 degrees different." He then grinned widely when I rolled my eyes. "What?"

"Never mind."

Awkward silence settled over us until Fred suddenly perked up. "I know a great spot around here. Want to check it out?"

When I nodded, he beamed. We set our drinks down and made our way out of the party hall.

Fred was leading me toward the elevator when a drunk woman bumped into him, spilling her whiskey all over him.

"Oh jeez!"

"Oops! Sorry!" she giggled, her apology barely coherent. "I'm soooo sorry!"

Fred looked annoyed, but fortunately he didn't do anything improper. He turned to me. "I need to clean this up first, excuse me."

"I need to clean this up. Excuse me."

"Go ahead, it's fine."

I heard him muttering a curse under his breath as he hurried off. I was about to head back to the party when the elevator in front of me dinged.

And out stepped a man.

His sharp eyes clashed with mine. His expression was as shocked as mine.

His dark brown hair, his black coat, his signature lips .... All my feelings were mixed up in an instant.

"Marco?"

***

170125, Anne Joyce