Lusted After You

I was here, in what's considered the most dangerous city in the United States. If it weren't for Kim, there's no way I'd go through all this trouble, traveling so far just to fetch her damn documents. Damn her scatterbrain for always forgetting important stuff and dragging me into her personal courier service.

Pulling my phone out of my bag, I dialed Kim's number. I prayed she'd pick up quickly so that the incident that I won't tell wouldn't happen again like last time.

"Hey, Leanne, you here already?" she answered on the second ring.

"Now quickly tell me where to go?"

"Grab a cab. I'll text you the address," From the tone in which she spoke, I could tell that she was in a hurry for some reason.

"Pray to your God that I always remember that you are my best friend," I said simply.

"I'll text you, Leanne." That was the last word before she unilaterally ended the call. Truly a person who understood gratitude.

Actually, Kim was not really the type of person who is very annoying. She just got sloppy sometimes. However, even though I get a bit annoyed with her sometimes, I still liked her. She was kind and caring, and sometimes acted like she's my sister. A rich big sister.

But still, I knew whatever Kim was working on had to be important. And her successes always benefited me in one way or another. She was a hotshot reporter, the diamond of her company, and currently chasing a story that she claimed would solidify her reputation (at least in the journalism world).

A text popped up:

From: Kim

Hyatt Regency St. Louis at The Arch. 315 Chestnut St, St. Louis..

I showed the address to the cab driver. He gave me a quick nod before starting the car. I silently wondered what kind of news would make Kim want to be sent all the way to this city.

From behind, I heard the sound of police sirens which made my ears a little disturbed. I suddenly looked for the source of the sound and found two police cars chasing a black car.

"Wow," I muttered. "What's going on?"

"That's normal here," the driver replied casually, clearly overhearing me.

I looked into the rearview mirror on top of the dashboard, and revealed the face of the driver who seemed to think that I was someone who didn't know the customs of this place. To be fair, he wasn't wrong.

I arrived at the hotel Kim had mentioned. "Nice choice," I muttered to myself. This was one of the fanciest hotels I'd ever set foot in. The view was stunning, and the Gateway Arch was practically right next door.

Kim sent me her room number, and I strolled through the lobby, taking in the surroundings as if no one was waiting for my arrival.

I pressed the elevator, the doors opened and I was presented with the sight of a couple making out. They were so into it they didn't even notice me. Or maybe they didn't care. I didn't know if it was just me or if the elevator I was riding felt like it's taking forever to move. They were still doing their thing, making me deliberately clear my throat rather loudly.

Finally, they stopped. Whether it was because of me or because they ran out of air, I wasn't sure. Just then, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened to my floor.

"Lovesick," I quipped with a teasing tone as I passed them.

I had just stepped out of the elevator when someone suddenly shoved me against the wall. Before I could react, he kissed me, hard and unapologetically. With quick movements, the man also took off his black coat, leaving only a plain white t-shirt that clung snugly to his body. I tried to push him off, but he grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind me with a grip that made it impossible to fight back.

Who the hell was this guy, and what the hell was he doing? He kissed me frantically, his left hand rising to shield our faces. I really tried desperately not to open my mouth and let him in.

There were footsteps running past us. His left hand was binding my wrist and it was his right hand that was raised. A few moments later, he finally broke the kiss but didn't move away. His eyes opened, and I found myself staring into deep, stormy gray irises. Before I could even process what had just happened, he bent down to pick up the documents I had dropped.

"Thank you."

That was his first and last word before snatching back his black coat and running in the same direction he came from. He left me standing there like an idiot.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the couple from the elevator staring at me.

"Lovesick," they mocked before strutting away. Damn it-nothing stings more than having your own words thrown back at you.

I tried to ignore them, straightened my clothes that were a little messy due to that stranger's actions. The scent of his perfume clung to the fabric.

I searched Kim's room while still thinking about what happened. Who was he? What did he want? Why the hell did he kiss me? And... why was he such a damn good kisser? Focus, Leanne. Get it together. It's crazy, I didn't even know anything about him. Except for his voice, his eyes, and the scent of his perfume, I know nothing else.

Kim opened the door quickly. She didn't even say a word, just snatched the documents from my hands.

"Oho ... I didn't hear anything like 'thank you, Leanne, you are the best'," I quipped and sat down on the couch like I owned the place.

"Thank you, Leanne. I really am. You are the best person I have. But I don't have much time right now. Please ...," she said as she checked the file I had brought.

"Fine, fine. Did I miss something?"

"Nope. Everything's here. Perfect. Thanks again, Leanne. You can chill here or go explore. The password is as usual." Kim grabbed her bag and hugged me. "Wait, something weird happened," I said, stopping her.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Why do you smell like men's cologne?"

Damn!

***

Edited. 170125, Anne Joyce

After Kim's departure, which was a relief, I decided to wander around for a while. Good thing she was in such a hurry; she didn't have time to dig into her earlier question. My quick lie about Pedro (our mutual friend) hugging me before his flight had worked. At least in her haste, Kim just believed what I said.

It seemed like visiting fun places around here couldn't go wrong. I opened maps, searched for interesting places around here and found Columbus Square Park. Seven minutes away by car. Okay, not too far either.

Kim is calling...

"For God's sake, what is it again, Kim?" I said in an unusual tone.

"I'm so sorry, Leanne... but I need your help again. I grabbed the wrong folder-"

"Where is it?" I cut her off.

"It's on the shelf by the TV. I'm really sorry, Leanne," she mumbled, her voice small.

I sighed deeply. I could practically see her pouting like a scolded kid in a timeout. Add her baby-like Asian features-thanks to her dad being Chinese-and her guilt face was almost impossible to ignore.

"Fine. Which folder?"

"The navy blue one."

Shaking my head, I muttered, "No wonder you grabbed the wrong one. There are four navy blue folders, Kim Chan."

"Just open the first page!" she urged.

Switching my phone to speaker, I put it down on the shelf.

"'Joint Project with Mr. Matthew Cumberbatch'?" I read aloud from the first folder.

"Nope."

I grabbed the next one. "Name: Kimberly Zhao Chan. Place of-"

"That's my resume, Corbin."

Next blue folder. "This one looks like news. 'The Mysterious Death of the Weaver Family'?"

Thank God I hadn't had the phone pressed to my ear.

"Oh, and bring your notebook. There's a café nearby where you can work on your assignments while waiting for me," she added.

"You know this isn't free, right?" I started leaving her hotel room-the one that would be mine tonight anyway.

"Don't worry! I'll take you out later tonight," she laughed.

"That's not good enough," I countered in a mock protest.

"I'll treat you to dinner too."

"Perfect!" I exclaimed with a laugh. "Send me the address!"

From: Kim

1000 Market, St. Louis.

I stopped the taxi and told the driver my destination. During the ride, I thought of that man again. His sooty eyes were always ringing in my head. Sharp, cold, and warm at the same time. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his lips on mine, the scent of Terre d'Hermès teasing my senses, and his possessive embrace lingering in my memory. God, this was insane. In an instant that man affected me, even just because of his kiss. I still didn't know why he did it.

I shuddered softly when the taxi driver informed me that we had arrived at my destination. Oh, a television station building with a very famous channel. No wonder Kim was so enthusiastic about her mission this time. Well, At least it was a step up from the small private channel she used to work for. Ah, my dear Kim Chan, you really know how to make money.

"Leanne!"

I turned to the source of the voice. There was Kim waving. With a small run, I approached her.

"Thank you so much, Leanne. You are indeed my best friend."

"You only ever say that when I fetch your stuff, Kim Chan," I rolled my eyes.

Kim giggled. "Because it's true! You're a lifesaver. You must be tired. Walk a little north, you'll find a coffee shop. I'll be there in less than an hour. Thanks again so much, Leanne. I really owe you a lot."

"Of course you do. You owe me a lot," I joked. She chuckled softly. "I'll wait for you there. See you, Kim!"

Arriving at the coffee shop, I immediately ordered my favorite Americano. It seemed like a cozy place to refresh my mind. I pulled out my notebook, ready to continue yesterday's research on Clostridium botulinum. It amazed me how something so tiny could pose such a massive threat to life.

Shit! Even while working, I couldn't stop thinking about that man. Who the hell was he? I was losing my mind, obsessing over him. This wasn't like me. Even when Pedro kissed me before, it didn't have the same effect as that mysterious man.

About fifty minutes had passed, and Kim hadn't called yet. My gaze was suddenly drawn to a bald man wearing sunglasses. For some reason, I caught a strange movement from the man sitting in the corner of the room. His hand moved slowly, pulling out an object that I could tell was a gun-wait, what?

My eyes darted to his target-a guy sitting a few tables away. Without thinking, I bolted toward him.

Bang!

"Watch out!" I yelled, shoving him to the ground just as the bullet whizzed past us. We crashed into a table, sending everything tumbling.

"Thank you."

Time seemed to stop. I swear I recognize that voice and that tone. I was still holding him as those sooty eyes looked at me. For God's sake, It is him! The man who had haunted me ever since that kiss. The scent of Terre D'Hermes emanating from his body added to the conviction that this man was really the one who kissed me in front of the elevator earlier.

The realization woke me up. Suddenly, the atmosphere around us was noisy as a woman received the misdirected bullet. The man quickly stood, searching for the shooter, slipping on the sunglasses he'd dropped. Things got noisier as the two of them clashed guns. Wait, this charming man was also playing with a gun?

People screeched as the sound of explosions came from their weapons. Some ran for their lives and others hid wherever they felt strong enough.

"Get down!" he yelled at me. The Baldy was still attacking us. The handsome man picked up the gun again and fired both of them while occasionally taking cover behind the table that had been overturned.

"Arrghh!" I groaned as a bullet tore into my shoulder.

"Fuck!" he cursed. "Hold on!"

Pulling me behind him, he shielded me with his body. My vision blurred as pain radiated from my shoulder, hot and searing.

Then, silence. The gunfire had stopped. Baldie must've been taken down.

"Stay with me, please," he murmured, his voice softer now.

He placed me in a car, tearing his shirt to make a makeshift bandage for my shoulder. My vision dimmed as exhaustion overtook me.

"I'll pay my debt to you, Blondie," His whisper was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

***

Edited. 170125, Anne Joyce

"No, Isaac. I don't think she knows who I am. She did it out of kindness."

That deep voice made me regain consciousness. I blinked slowly, only to discover that I was in an unfamiliar room dominated by gray and white.

"No. I destroyed the CCTV and kept my gloves on."

I spotted a guy standing with his back to me. He was in jeans paired with a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even from here, I could see his toned arms and broad shoulders. Trying to pick up more of his conversation, I stayed as still as possible, ignoring the stinging pain in my shoulder. A thick blanket was tucked up to my neck, and while I was dying to toss it aside, I didn't want Mr. Handsome over there to realize I was awake.

"Let's just say I'll be unlucky if it comes to that. You know I always slip past the cops."

Wait-what? Cops? What's he talking about? Oh no, what if I'm caught up in this? This is a literal nightmare. And what did he just say? "Always slip past the cops"? Does he have a history?

"I'm serious, Isaac. There's nothing to worry about."

I tried to look at him again. And for whatever reason, I was really surprised to find that the handsome man was staring at me. Don't tell me that he knew that I was listening to his conversation.

"I'll call you later," he said, hanging up his phone and walking toward me.

Oh my God, he's coming over. I never thought I'd end up this close to him-let alone in his room. He stopped so close that I could see every detail of his jawline. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"N-no." Damn, I stammered.

"I couldn't take you to the hospital, so I patched you up myself." He pulled out a chair and sat by the bed.

"I'm already feeling better. Thank you," I said, trying to sound calm, even though my nerves were all over the place.

I shifted to sit up, and the blanket slipped down, revealing that I wasn't wearing my flannel shirt anymore-just the tank top underneath.

"I should be the one thanking you," he said. "Oh, by the way, I took off your shirt. Didn't do anything except treat the wound."

"What? Oh, uh, yeah, no problem." I glanced at my shoulder, wincing at the sight of the bandage. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I owe you my life. Seriously, I'll pay it back. Just tell me what you want."

I want to be close to you. "No need," I replied quietly.

"Alright. But if you ever need anything, let me know. I owe you big time," he said with a faint smile. It wasn't hard to feel that this wouldn't be our last meeting. At least, I hoped it wasn't. Maybe we'd bump into each other again somewhere-a café, the mall, or... wherever.

That's when I remembered my bag and laptop, which I'd left at the café. Of course, I did. He must've carried me straight out of there. Oh God. Oh my god ... "Kim!"

"Hey, what's wrong?" He looked genuinely puzzled as I tried to stand up.

"I need to get back." But then I stopped mid-motion, looking at him. His brow furrowed. "All my future is in my bag."

"Where are you staying?"

"Hyatt Regency Hotel."

"I'll take you there." He grabbed a gray cardigan hanging by the wardrobe and draped it over my shoulders. "This belongs to a friend of mine. She won't mind if you borrow it."

She. Of course, he had a female friend who leaves clothes in his room. What did you expect, Corbin? A guy like him not having someone? My subconscious mocked me, probably smirking while doing so.

He put on a black coat-again-before guiding me out of his room. The house was quiet, minimalist, and painted in shades of gray that only added to its mysterious vibe.

"You live alone?" I asked once we were in his car.

There was a pause, long enough for me to count his breaths. "Yeah."

For some reason, I got the feeling he wasn't comfortable with questions like that. I fiddled with my fingers, debating whether to bring up what happened in the café-or the elevator. I kept glancing at him, wanting to ask,, but I immediately canceled it.

"You got something to say?" he suddenly asked, eyes still on the road.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

Taking a deep breath, I turned to him. "Do you remember meeting me before the café?"

He glanced at me for a moment before answering, "No. Maybe you've got the wrong guy."

"You sure?" I pressed.

"Where do you think we met?"

"Forget it," I muttered. "I guess I was mistaken." But deep down, I was sure it was him who kissed me. His black coat, the Terre d'Hermes cologne, his dark brown hair, and those intense eyes-it all lined up.

He didn't remember me. Or maybe he was pretending not to. Either way, I couldn't shake the feeling there was more to this.

He didn't remember me. But ... how could he? The incident had just happened and not a day had passed. Even the clothes I was wearing at that time were still the same as the ones I wore at the café. The assumption that I had misrecognized someone had been added to the black list. The other possibility was that he didn't remember or pretended not to remember. I didn't even have a good guess as to why he kissed me earlier. And yes, his thank-you note that was still ringing in my ears made it seem as if when he kissed me, I had saved him--who knows from what.

"Are you okay?"

I was startled softly when he asked so suddenly. I looked at him who was looking at me with a furrowed brow. "N-no, I mean yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you in a lot of pain? I'm sorry you got hurt." This young man said with regret, he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "I really owe you."

"I'm fine," I replied softly.

"Just tell me what you want, and it's yours. I promise."

"I don't need anything," I said, ducking my head, still wrestling with whether to ask why he kissed me.

He sighed and fell silent, turning on the radio. David Cook's The Time of My Life filled the awkward space.

Minutes later, we were near the Hyatt Regency Hotel. I could see the Gateway Arch in the distance, but to my surprise, he drove right past it.

"You missed the hotel," I blurted out.

"I know. We're not going there," he replied, calmly speeding up.

"What? Where are you taking me?" He didn't answer. Frustrated, I leaned closer to shake his arm, mindful not to jostle my injured shoulder. "Tell me!"

"Calm down, there's a car following us," he said. I canceled my intention to look back when he piped up again, "Don't turn around! Just check the side mirror. I can't drop you off at the hotel-they'd find you there."

***

Edited. 17125, Anne Joyce