Page 19 of Scary Suitor

A small part of me, the piece colored with wariness, favors the way his arms wrap around me. It must be the chemicals in his cologne, washing away layers of apprehension with each inhale.

Shaking my head, I breathe in deeply. A sugary aroma replaces the memories of his scent, and my stomach growls in hunger.

Being forced to wake up at an unholy hour to listen to the importance of proper conduct in the workplace is damaging my appetite. I wish I could sleep with my eyes open, but the speakers call on people randomly.

I hate the flashback of my literature teacher casually picking students to read a passage from a theatrical play about a Scottish general and witches. I don’t remember the name because another reading had goblins.

“You should marry a griffin,” I mumble behind the brochure. “It symbolizes courage and boldness; you’ll need it when they call you because you can’t stop talking.”

Finny snorts extra loud, as if challenging my words. I’m warning her, but she doesn’t listen. The speakers said people who talk out of turn are disrespectful, and they don’t like being disrespected.

As the woman on the podium scans the rows of half-asleep listeners, she turns her laser-focused eyes on us. I hide behind the brochure and pretend the fancy curtains are a scientific breakthrough.

“Lady in the back with a blue shirt,” the woman announces, “I’d like you to come up.”

I have a blue shirt, Finny does as well, and so do ten others in the room. It’s the dress code to separate one group from another company. I have seen just about all the colors of the rainbow on people during mealtimes.

It’s funny to watch rival companies try to outdo each other in activities. Yesterday had to be the most antagonistic pool volleyball I’ve ever seen; they were more concerned with spiking balls, with the intent of committing homicide, at their mortal enemies than scoring points.

“Oh, yes!” the host screeches into the microphone as I feel curious eyes on me. “Yes, you!”

Finny spits a line of curses quietly, shuffling reluctantly to stand up after being called. I shoot her a triumphant smirk at her frown, and the woman ushers Finny forward before she can say anything.

Serves her right for that dinner stunt.

Cassio was a different man, so alarmingly different. While he still wore his mellow smile and alluring eyes that gave false security, he had spun smooth words into spider-silk lies, ensnaring Finny and her boyfriend in a fantasy.

The lies were elaborate enough to be real and barred them from prying the obvious gaps. One captivating smile derailed their judgments.

I cannot stress enough the absolute discomfort I felt. I had ample opportunity to come clean, tell them about the horror he put me through, but they would’ve shot me a disdained gasp because Cassio, the walking perfection, could do no wrong.

He paid for the expensive dinner to prove it.

The entire time, Cassio blended in with us. We werenotold friends.

It’s frightening how he could do it so naturally, not missing a beat when he told them money can’t buy the feeling of home. It’s why he’s living in the small apartment unit next to me.

Finny and her boyfriend are attentive and clever people, but lord are they fooled. I nearly screamed at their obliviousness.

I toss my head back, the metal rim on the plastic chair cooling my neck as I let my head loll. A new wave of people walks past the conference room; their crisp suits have them sticking out amongst the array of colorful shirts.

I pray so hard I don’t see Cassio in the group.

A relieved sigh blows over my lips, and I lift my head back up in time to hear Finny’s last words. I don’t know why she was called up there, but Finny doesn’t look happy about it.

As she hops down from the podium, the speakers end the seminar and dismiss everyone. Today is an easy day after yesterday’s intense schedule of packed activities and long presentations.

Three days in, and I’m drained.

I wait for Finny by the door, watching her snag the rest of the doughnuts and a large cup of coffee. She shoves one into her mouth, offering me the others, but my appetite is not back yet.

We have an hour of freedom until we’re due to meet with the group for another bonding activity.

Spinning around, I look out the window that overlooks a crowded beach. The Miami resort is near the beach and not close enough to see atypical swimwear. The running joke of Florida hosting a new species of humans has some truth to it.

Some people in our group are experiencing the Florida magic.

No, a voice in my head yelps in despair as my eyes land on a familiar back.

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