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Perhaps fate would decide in my favor to bring us face to face again, and this time, I wouldn't let him slip away so easily.
The following evening, I found myself back at the club again. I didn't even bother ordering a drink this time. My sole focus was on the door, desperately hoping Emilio would walk through it. I felt absurd, weak, desperate. I was practically stalking the club for a man I wasn’t familiar with.
What if he never showed up? Was this how I would continue, coming here on the off chance that he might?
An hour passed, and there was still no sign of him. Doubt crept into my mind. Was I bordering on insanity, fixating on this man I barely knew? I didn't even have a certainty that he frequented this club. It was like chasing a mirage in a desert with no assurance that there would ever be water.
Self-awareness tugged at me. I couldn't let myself spiral into this obsession. Yet, despite my logical reasoning, my heart kept longing for that chance encounter once more.
I had never felt this drawn to a person before.
I let out a sigh, grappling with my thoughts. It was probably time to release the grip this intrigue had on me. However, just as I was contemplating this, a bartender approached and set a drink on my table.
Pulled from my thoughts, I looked up, perplexed, wondering who had ordered it for me. The bartender nodded towards a man across the room, a knowing smile playing on his lips, revealing that he was the sender.
My heart did a little flutter, a glimmer of excitement sparking within me. Could it be Emilio attempting to make amends for abruptly ending our previous encounter? I turned my head, hope flickering in my eyes, but my hopes were quickly dashed as I saw a stranger grinning at me, evidently reveling in my anticipation.
Disappointment washed over me, suddenly filling my limbs with lead.
Offering a polite smile, I expressed my gratitude to the bartender but politely declined the drink. The stranger's grin waned, his enthusiasm deflated by my rejection.
He wasn't unattractive, sporting blonde hair, but my interest was elsewhere. Captured by a man I might or might not see again. I shifted my gaze, attempting to shake off the awkwardness and disappointment that now hung in the air.
Feeling disheartened, I decided to leave. Patience was dwindling, and this pathetic waiting for Emilio was leading me nowhere.
The next day, I found myself back at the bar for the fifth, and what I swore to myself would be the last time I came here to seek Emilio. If I didn’t see him today, then I would take it our paths weren’t meant to cross.
As I settled into my usual spot, I ordered a non-alcoholic drink since I had brought my car and waited. When my drink arrived, I focused on its amber liquid, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Tonight, the ambiance of the club did little to soothe my nerves.
Time dragged on, each tick of the clock amplifying my growing impatience. I glanced around, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he'd make an appearance, but as the minutes morphed into an hour, I decided that I couldn’t do it anymore.
The bartender approached with a friendly smile, inquiring if I'd like another drink. With a polite decline, I explained that I was about to leave.
Just as I was about to make my exit, a voice broke through the chatter. "Leaving so soon?"
Startled, I turned to see the blonde stranger from last night. There was a casual yet confident demeanor about him. Smiling politely, I explained.
"I was waiting for someone, but I guess they're a no-show," I shared, my eyes momentarily meeting his. He slid into the seat beside me, leaning casually against the counter.
"Well, who would leave a beautiful woman like you all alone?" he remarked, attempting to flirt.
I let out a dry chuckle, trying to keep the situation light.
"Maybe something urgent came up," I replied, inching to stand.
However, before I could make my move, his grip on my wrist tightened, effectively halting me. I glanced at where his hand held mine, then up at him, feeling uncomfortable and annoyed.
This man seemed unfazed by his intrusive gesture, pressing me to stay and join him for a drink. My patience was already worn thin. With as much self-control as I could muster, I gently removed my hand from his grasp, making it clear that I wasn't interested.
"Thank you, but I'm not looking to have a drink," I said firmly, hoping he'd respect my boundaries.
"I insist," he expressed with a tone in his voice that made me more uncomfortable.
I shook my head with finality.
"No, really. Thank you, but I'm leaving," I said, standing up with determination.
As I turned away from him and walked toward the exit, I felt a mixture of relief and frustration. Relief because I had managed to extricate myself from this stranger's relentless advances.
