Chapter 2 Get a life, sir!

• My throat went dry in fear.
• I moved closer to my seatmate in the window seat, even though I knew that lady wouldn't do much help because she was asleep with her headphones on. The messy-haired group before and behind me were uniformed. . .who could not be the students from the private business school nearby because of the heated discussion about who was best at roasting their spitting and sleeping beauty lab teachers for being annoyingly stingy about giving two extra marks and charging money, then and now, for already broken test tubes!
• But why do they sound oblivious to the presence of this celebrity here?
• Fluttering my eyelashes, I picked at this man standing by my seat and hiccuped to see him in a black face mask with dark glasses.
• I looked away and forced myself to act indifferent even when my eyes showed me a red flag.
• His car broke down, so he had to take that bus. Anyone in his place would have done the same too.
• To terrorize someone who had no idea about his identity couldn't bring him here, right? I was just an ordinary-looking girl with three sets of dresses she repeated every week. And he looked far more qualified to be the annihilator. Who I had no count of anyway.
• But I had my hoodie on, so they could only get my side view. . .not my entire face, which only this celeb could see if I let him.
• He didn't say anything or even react, which was a relief. And I started to let my guard down and turned my gaze toward the window. The ticket collector came toward my seat, and I paid my fare, even though my heart ached to hand him my dinner fees. I hoped my roommate would be kind enough to let me use her induction to boil my water and give me some sugar for my coffee.
• A few stoppages later, my seatmate stirred from her seat and got up after shoving her headphones in her bag.
• Quite naturally, I shifted to the window seat, as that one had always been my favorite, well, of course, excluding the flight, as I had a fear of heights, and then, in the meantime, I forgot about that man who now took mine with no good intentions in his eyes.
• I froze when a hand reached for the window's handle at my side. It nearly brushed my cheek, and I had to press my back tight into my seat. Holding my breath, I watched that man from the corner of my eyes and saw his already on mine, not on the window he was trying to open. The sweat on his forehead and his nose made me feel bad for this man, as the endurance of humidity in the summertime in Brazil didn't look like a cup of tea to him, even if it was average that day.
• Showing my palm, I waved and hinted at him to move his hand from the window, to which he complied like the good man he was. He had it slippery, the lock, I mean. I pressed my lips in a thin line and opened them for him, much to my dismay.
• I never liked the odor of burned rubber on the tires. It made me sick, so I ground my teeth and pressed my back more into the seat.
• "Are you from here?"
• I choked in my saliva when I heard that from him.
• Releasing the breath I had to hold for a while, I asked, forcing him a smile, "Why?"
• "Do you know this area?" That man showed me a written address in red ink on the paper, taking it out of his chest pocket. My throat again went dry when it turned out the bar I worked at night. I felt my palms getting sweaty because that ink was also triggering. My nerve would have given out if he hadn't added the next thing, "I have a friend to meet. Where is the next train station, if I may ask?"
• He sounded polite, and that was enough to put me at ease.
• "Oh. . .this bus will take you directly, but you have to wait for nearly two hours as it covers most of the streets of this entire city." Getting a grip on myself, I suggested to him, "Better if you take a cab after seven stoppages from here. . .if you are in a hurry."
• "Guess I have to take your advice. . ." He sighed and took that note away from me. I didn't think of the need to press the matter more. So as I was about to turn my gaze back to the window, that small smile I had on my face that always appeared when the cool breeze outside touched my face now fell when he said in a deep baritone voice with his mouth very close to mine, "Even though you are the first woman who looked at me in disappointment, I can't be that mean to you now that you have helped me with the address, can I ?"
• My blood ran cold with fear.
• After turning my head to his side, I looked at him, speechless. I was petrified of how smooth his voice sounded, making me crave my favorite dessert, cheesecake, and black coffee in a lush green forest and white sand turquoise blue water beach. Then I noticed his eyes behind those dark shades he had on. The color of his eyes wasn't possible for me to see, but I felt how cold they were as he lingered on my face. In other circumstances, I would have apologized to him. That sorry word was still there on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn't say that aloud. He could be some Prince of arrogance, but my mother loved to call me the Queen of stubbornness.
• Judging by how pale my face was from not having a proper meal for the last few days, he mistook that for my fear that I felt intimidated by him, so he chuckled with a scoff and took out his phone while relaxing his tall suited and booted figure in that seat.
• His brows knitted when he tapped on the screen several times, but it didn't open. Pressing the power button on the side of his iPhone, he tried to unlock it, and again the result was the same. I turned my head to the other side with an expression of oblivion.
• My eyes enlarged when my cell vibrated in my bag.
• After a cough, I had to press my thighs together to hide that noise, but I nearly squirmed when that man cursed loudly, groaning in annoyance, "Oh, shit. My phone is dead now. Can I use yours?" Gripping my bag tight, I looked at him, who sneered at me, "It's my mom I want to call. She is worried about me as she knows how I hate to lose. I lost my deal today to my competitor, you know. So, it can't put me in a good mood, and then your face..." He let his voice linger, eyes gazing at me disapprovingly.
• The look he gave me made me feel like I was the one to blame for having a bad day. And that boiled my blood. I didn't even know him. How could he expect me to fangirl him? If that's what he expected from me, then sorry, I was not good at faking things.
• Lowering my gaze, I lied through my teeth, "I don't have a phone."
• "You don't!" He laughed drily. "Then whose phone is vibrating in that handbag on your lap?"
• I got goosebumps on my skin, feeling his eyes on my bag. My cell phone wasn't vibrating then, but maybe he had heard that sound when I received a message a moment ago. "Outgoing call not available on this number. . .the recharge plan has expired, I mean."
• "Oh? That's bad!" He sounded concerned about me. Though what I said was the half-truth, it turned things even creepier when he played with his expensive handset, tossing and twisting causally like he wouldn't care if that broke, and then I heard his amused laughter. "How poor can someone be to do monthly recharge on her number." Bringing his face closer, he asked in curiosity, "Or is it your daddy who caught you stalking people like us, so he chose this hard way to put a leash on his little girl?"
• I would have thought he was talking about the monthly allowance some parents hand to their children, but no, it didn't sound like that. He meant something way too dirty, and an instant disgust rose in my heart for him. I wished those kids were quiet and hadn't lost their calm with their teachers. Their blunt português courses, making even the driver laugh with the rest of their passengers.
• Glaring at that man, I stood up, "Move, please. My stoppage is here."
• But he didn't take the hint. I regretted the moment I chose the window seat when I had that creep on my side.
• "How old are you?" He asked, tilting his head at me.
• His gaze on my body made me uncomfortable, so I spat, clutching my bag tight, "Old enough to throw a harassment case at you."
• "So do I. . .for stalking me all the way here, Miss. The footage there with you circling my car would make it obvious."
• My cheeks turned as white as a sheet after hearing him. His no-nonsense confession screamed I would be in trouble. He could use that street footage to put me behind the bar skillfully, but why did he keep calling me a stalker? He was the one who followed me here on the bus and stood by my seat. He even asked me for my phone! Didn't he have his gym guy here with him? That question made me look up, only to look down, seeing that stud standing a few rows before our seat, watching me like I was some criminal.
• "But don't worry, lass. I'll not do that," His voice took me out of the trance. Moving his body slightly to the other side, he cleared my way to leave that seat and said huskily, "It is not my thing to punish pretty little girls like you. And. . .do get a real job next time."
• I stared at him blankly and got out of my seat.
• My hands ached to tear off his mask and show all who would recognize him as a celebrity like the passengers in that stoppage did. But my parents raised me to be like that. I knew I was better, and this man had no clue who I was, just like I didn't know him.
• "Thanks for your concern, but I strongly suggest you get a life, sir!" Before getting off that bus, I thought about giving him a reality check. So, I brought my face close to him and smiled genuinely at him as I said, "The universe doesn't revolve around you."
• His expression darkened behind those dark glasses and black face masks. Those heavy breaths said that all.
• Before he got a chance to make any snarky remark, the bus halted before a stoppage, and I jogged down the bus.
• I felt his eyes when I took a non-ac bus to the post office. Turning around, I waved at him and hoped I would never see him again.