CHAPTER 7

 
 
Hunter stared at the rigid woman in front of
him, sitting straight like a jukebox with palms folded on top of
each other, her eyes looking intently at the tablecloth, as if
finding the embroidered fabric so fascinating. He took his time to
eye her. She was of reasonable height, thinly built with glossy
blond hair parted to the left of her face, displaying dangling
silver earrings. If he could describe her, she would be classified
as pretty but definitely not his type. Hunter’s style would be
petite, with voluptuous breasts that would fit right into his
hands. This woman couldn’t be more than an A-cup.
“So,” he said, trying to think of any topic
at all to converse about, but none came to his mind. They’d been in
the restaurant for well over fifteen minutes, but all she said in
that amount of time was her name, Caroline, and her order to the
waitress.
Where did his dad find these women? What
kind of deal were they thinking of doing? And why must he play a
part in their stupid arrangement anyway?
Hunter tapped his finger on the tablecloth.
If he didn’t say anything soon, he was sure his brain would combust
from boredom. He needed a distraction. His eyes glanced around the
restaurant.
It was a beautiful construction, a classic
red, gold, and white theme. Anton had booked the reservation,
boasting that the food was fantastic. He had never been to a
Cambodian restaurant before, but Anton had an excellent palate, so
Hunter trusted his judgment.
The area they sat in was a very secluded
spot, nestled up on the second level overlooking Auckland Harbor.
Must be the VIP section, Hunter thought. At this time of
evening, the sun kissed the sea, showing off a brilliant
yellow-orange hue on the calm water below. The quiet melodic music
and the dimly lit lampshades created a romantic atmosphere. But he
didn’t feel romantic in the least. Well, not with the jukebox lady
anyway. Now if it were a beautiful petite woman sitting in front of
him, then it would be a different story. Heck, even the woman that
spat on him last week would be better than the jukebox now.
Hunter continued to eye his surroundings.
There were only two other occupied tables—one with an elderly
couple eating noodles and another with a young man, slightly
younger than him, holding a pink rose.
Pink rose? Blind date maybe. In fact, he was
intrigued now as to who might be this mysterious girl who would
soon make her appearance. He was glad he was sitting facing the
entrance, as this gave him ample opportunity to glance at the door
every few seconds without twisting his neck in the process. But
after a good five minutes, he grew bored again. Trying to think of
a way to make time go faster, he decided to go to the bathroom and
clear his head a bit. The chair made a screech as he pushed it
out.
“Where are you going?” Caroline asked,
looking nervously up from the table.
What was her problem? Why was she so afraid
to speak to him?
He took in the sight of the jukebox in front
of him, her eyes scattering from left to right. She definitely
reminded him of a timid mouse desperately wanting to steal the
cheese but afraid the cat would get her. Well, obviously he would
be the cat, but come on. It wasn’t like he was going to bite her if
she came after his cheese. But maybe he would, if she were his
type. Then he would nip her on the neck and take her straight to
bed. But in this case, it wouldn’t happen.
“Bathroom,” he answered. He eyed her
mischievously before further saying, “Wanna join me?”
Hunter couldn’t help it because he wanted to
check her response, whether she would jump out of her chair in
fright or just timidly look down again at that tablecloth like a
scared mouse.
Both didn’t happen. Caroline looked shock
instead to hear him say this. What could he say? Of course she
should be shocked by his suggestion. Then again, most sensible
girls would be shocked to be in his presence anyway. So her reply
was a vigorous shake of her head.
“Thought so,” he commented. “Be right
back.”
 

 
Through the restaurant window, Clarice
stared at the young man sitting near the large flower arrangement,
twisting a pink rose in his hand. The man had shaggy brown hair
that would benefit from a cut. His face was adorned with
square-framed lenses.
It was him, the one youandme.co.nz had
emailed to her last night. Her very first date.
He looked… young. Very young.
Would he find her repulsive if he knew her
true age?
No, he looked pleasant. Yes, pleasant. That
was what Elise would say. Pleasant men would never hold a grudge
against age.
Staring at the man again, Clarice’s heart
did a little jump, not because she found the man beautiful and
handsome, but because she was so nervous. Was this the man who she
wanted her baby to look like? Would he be the one? As more thoughts
clouded her mind, she began shaking all over again.
“Get a grip of yourself, Clarice.” She shook
herself. “You will not behave this way. This is your first date. I
expect a good turnout.”
Her eyes reverted back to the man through
the window. What was she saying? This was her first date; that was
why she was feeling out of sorts. She had to go to the restroom
first. Clear her head and compose herself before showing herself to
him.
Clarice knew the layout of the Cambodian
restaurant like the back of her hand since she frequented it so
many times with her friends, so her escape through the door and to
the bathroom without anyone even spotting her was an easy task.
Just as she was about to make it to the women’s door around the
corner, though, she unexpectedly collided with a large body mass,
exerting enough force that it sent her toppling onto the floor.
Before her body made impact with the dark tiles, she saw an arm and
hung on to that arm for dear life, hoping it would provide her with
some support to stop her fall, but in the end, she ended up
sprawled on the floor anyway. A second later, she felt her lips
smashed against something soft, and that was when she lost all
sense of herself.
Clarice’s heart went into a horse gallop
before ending at the finish line at a sprint, and then her head
decided to go on a roller coaster spin. Swarms of butterflies
fluttered inside her stomach and her lungs were once again seized
by an asthmatic attack. While all of this was happening, she kept
her eyes closed tight.
Clarice realized that whatever had smashed
against her lips must be other lips. Those soft, supple lips moved
slowly along the contours of her own mouth, nipping softly here and
there. She felt she was on cloud nine. Was this what a first kiss
should feel like? Because even though she was inexperienced, she
wanted to try out some more. It was thoroughly addicting.
Was this chemistry? Who was this man that
just kissed her? Would he be the father of her baby? Would she be
brave enough to ask for his sperm? All of these questions buzzed in
her head without any answer. Curious, she opened her eyes slowly
and was once again at a loss for speech as the person who had just
kissed her was actually the one person she had wished she would
never see again.
“You!” Clarice finally uttered in shock,
shame, embarrassment, and surprise.
She tried to push Hunter off but was
unsuccessful. When she was about to scrabble out from underneath
him, he toppled over backwards and in turn pulled her along with
him too. Now she was lying on top of him, kissing his cheek.
Clarice’s cheeks warmed in a bashful pink
flush. Embarrassed, she swiftly got up from the awkward position,
straightening out her clothing to resemble some form of
normality.
“Did you enjoy that?” Hunter asked with a
smirk on his face, his eyes twinkling in wicked amusement when he
got up to straighten his clothing too.
Hunter couldn’t believe his luck when he saw
the woman from the club the other day. And here he just kissed her.
Man, that was amazing. Not like that sloppy kiss from the other
girl at all.
Clarice, who saw Hunter smirking at her,
just wanted to shout at him for causing her this much distress. No
one had ever been that close to her before. No one had ever kissed
her before. In actual fact, that was her very first kiss, and it
had to be in front of a goddamn bathroom.
“I…”
“Wait. Don’t talk,” Hunter interrupted when
an idea popped into his head. “Stay right there,” he instructed
her.
Clarice was too stunned to react, as in the
next second, a white flash blinded her vision, making her blink a
few times until it returned to normal again. And then she realized
Hunter had just taken a picture of her with his iPhone.
“What was that for?” she asked, aghast.
“Evidence,” Hunter stated simply, saving the
image to his phone.
“Evidence?” Clarice asked.
“Yes.”
“For what?” she asked, flabbergasted at the
whole outcome.
“So I can sue you.”
“Sue me? Why?” Clarice was confused.
“Because A: you just kissed me without my
permission, and B: you spat on my shirt.”
Was this Casanova for real? She
kissed him without permission and now he was suing
her? Shouldn’t she sue him because he stole her first
kiss?
Clarice wanted to curse herself. After a
restless night, dreaming about her first real date—which hopefully
would lead to something more, aka husband and/or father of her
child—she couldn’t believe she had to meet this Casanova again.
“Okay, let me make this clear. A: I did not
kiss you. It was an accident. Obviously, you needed glasses
because you can’t see where you’re going. You bumped into me, and
then you kissed me.”
“Not from my perspective,” Hunter
interjected. “A: you were walking like you were dawdling with the
fairies. When I saw you, I was gonna talk to you about my ruined
shirt, but then you had to bump into me first. Then you even
dragged me down and kissed me without my consent.”
“I didn’t kiss you without your permission,”
Clarice argued.
“Oh, like I’m gonna give you permission to
kiss me, then. You’re not my type,” Hunter lied. He didn’t need to
give her permission to kiss him. She could smash those lips into
him again and he wouldn’t give a fig. In fact, he wouldn’t mind
doing it all over again, right here, right now, in front of the
women’s restroom. This woman was so definitely his type.
“You are so not my type either,” Clarice
retorted. “Arrrgghhh, how come every time I see you, you always
managed to embarrass me?” she grumbled to herself, dusting
invisible specks off her clothes.
“You’re one to talk. You spat at me when
last we met. Remember? Not to mention yanking off my towel when you
delivered those flowers. In fact, I should sue you for that
too.”
“It was to the wrong address. I didn’t
confess to you or anything. And regarding the spitting incident,
you were in the wrong,” Clarice explained.
“I was in the wrong?” Hunter
questioned. “How am I in the wrong when you were the one that spat
on me?”
“You were in the wrong because you were the
one who bought me that stupid drink. It tasted so disgusting. What
was I supposed to do with that foul potion in my mouth? Swallow it?
Of course not. I had to throw it up somewhere. If I died from that
poison, then you would be the number one suspect on the list. And
if I got sick, then you would be held responsible.” Clarice jabbed
at Hunter’s chest to show she meant business.
“People don’t die of drinking spirits. And
look at you. You seem healthy enough to me.”
“I wouldn’t be if I didn’t throw up,”
Clarice argued.
“All right, why on me, then?”
“You were right in my face.”
“Well… well…” Hunter thought. Shit, he
needed a good comeback. This woman was throwing him into a corner.
He’d never lost a verbal battle before. When he couldn’t think of
any other accusation or retort to stab back at her, he went back to
the beginning. “You were the one to ask me to buy that drink,
remember, acting all cute and innocent.” There, surely he was in
the right now. Can’t argue with that one, he thought,
grinning.
“Ha-ha-ha, I want to laugh. I did not act
all cute and innocent. You were the one who came on to me. You came
and sat next to me first,” Clarice challenged.
“Well, that’s because you were all alone,
sitting there by yourself, looking so miserable that I had to
rescue you,” Hunter rebutted.
“From what? From hungry predators looking
for nice, innocent prey for dinner that night? I bet you were that
hunter, you Casanova!” Clarice shouted.
Thinking they were both on an even score
now, she grinned secretly.
Oh, how true her meaning is, Hunter
thought. This Hunter, acting like a hunter, did prey on innocent
young girls some nights—oh, who was he kidding—almost every night
actually.
“You’re wrong, sweetheart. I was only there
to protect you. You looked so innocent sitting there by yourself.
What could a gentleman like me do? Leave you as easy game for the
others.”
“Mister, I had friends there so there was no
need for your protection. And for your information, I am well over
the young and innocent age,” Clarice explained.
“Still claiming to be thirty, sweetheart?
You don’t look anything over twenty to me.”
“You think I’m lying?” Clarice asked in
disbelief.
“I’m just stating what I see,” Hunter said,
eyeing her body.
“Fine. If you don’t believe me, I’ll prove
it to you.” Clarice rummaged through her bag, searching for her
wallet.
She needed to clean out her bag someday. It
was seriously a dangerous place to poke her hand into. One time
Elise emerged with a bleeding finger when the needle of her name
badge stabbed her.
Hunter stood resting against the women’s
entryway, eyeing the girl in front of him, his gaze running up and
down her body. Thank God she was busy rifling through her bag
because the hungry look pasted on his face right now would
definitely scare her if she saw him.
No matter how much she insisted she was
thirty, Hunter would never believe it. She had the body of a woman
under twenty, properly a virgin, since she was blushing the whole
time they had their little bickering session, which he thoroughly
enjoyed and found endearing.
Today she wore a nice pink sweater and black
skinny jeans, with medium-length heels. Still, at that height her
head just managed to reach past his shoulder. Hunter had a thing
for pink, especially on women; it just made them look super hot. He
wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with her at all, actually.
Just then her eyes met his and man, was that
a punch to the stomach. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of
those eyes. Then that face was replaced by an ID card shoved right
in his line of sight. It took him a moment to adjust to the
closeness of the picture, but once he took hold of it and moved it
away to a good distance so he could focus on the picture, it became
clear. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw her
date of birth printed on her driver’s license.
“Shit! You really are thirty!” he spat
out.
Hunter couldn’t believe this beautiful woman
who looked way younger than him was actually thirty.
“I told you I didn’t lie.” Clarice smiled at
her small victory.
“God, you’re so old,” Hunter said, when an
idea popped into his head.
Clarice’s smile dropped.
“What does that mean?” she asked, not so
sure of her triumph. Here she thought that by proving to Hunter her
true age, he would respect her a bit, not remind her again that she
was old. Why did she show the man her driver license? Because he
was riling her up too much; that’s why.
“That you’re old now,” Hunter stated,
suppressing the urge to snicker at the whole situation. How he
couldn’t wait to tease her now, but still, he couldn’t believe how
this woman could appear this young when she just hit thirty. He had
never dated a woman in her thirties before. If he decided to go for
her, would that make him her boy toy? The thought sounded a little
tempting actually.
“But you said I looked young and innocent
just a moment ago. Like a twenty-year-old woman. Now I look thirty?
How can I have aged so fast in a just a few minutes?” Clarice asked
for clarification.
“Woman, do avocados look old to you?” Hunter
explained, using the only analogy he could think of. Time to
have some fun with her now, he thought.
“What are you on about? I don’t
understand.”
“See, can you see this?” Hunter showed
Clarice her driver’s license, tapping at her picture while trying
very hard to suppress his laughter.
“I’m seeing my picture,” Clarice stated
seriously.
“No, you’re seeing an avocado,” Hunter said
again.
“An avocado?’ Clarice questioned Hunter in
confusion. The look on her face just made Hunter want to tease her
even more.
“Yes. An avocado.”
“I don’t see an avocado. Just me.” No matter
how many times Clarice looked at her image on the ID, she still
could only see herself. What was this Casanova on about?
“Look, let’s look at it this way.” Hunter
began his explanation. “All avocados look the same on the outside,
right?
Clarice nodded in agreement.
“They’re green, maybe a little rough and
wrinkly on the outside, but once you peel off the skin and check
the meat, that’s when you know they’re old and soft.”
“So what you’re trying to say is that I’m an
avocado?” Clarice reiterated.
“Yes, you’re an avocado,” he confirmed.
“I still don’t get it. I don’t look that
old. You said so yourself a minute ago.”
“God, woman! It’s the inside that counts.
You know, the mechanics.”
“What are you on about? I still don’t
understand you. Speak English.”
“I am speaking English. It’s you who’s
acting all dense.”
“Who are you calling dense?” Clarice had had
enough of this man. Who was he to call her dense? She was a smart
woman who had accomplished so many things in her thirty years.
“You, woman. You!” Hunter said again, poking
at her forehead to press his point.
“Stop calling me woman,” she shouted,
brushing his finger from her face and snatching back her license.
“You just called me a sweetheart before.”
“That was before you said you were thirty,
acting all innocent and that.”
“Now I’m acting all innocent? I tell you,
mister, I am neither dense nor am I playing innocent, beca—”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Hunter butted in.
“And even if you were acting all innocent now, I wouldn’t believe
you. A woman like you should act well and refined, like aged wine,
matured to perfection. But you, now that I know your age, you don’t
act like wine at all. You’re an avocado.”
“Stop with the avocado. My name is Clarice.
Not avocado or woman or even sweetheart.” She fumed.
“Sorry, avocado it is for me. Avocado.
Avocado,” Hunter repeated, just to make sure Clarice was mad. He
loved her angry face.
“Clarice! Clarice!” Clarice repeated, her
cheeks turning a bright pink.
“Avocado. Avocado. Actually, I kind of like
the sound of it now. Nice and smooth on my tongue.”
“Arrgh, you insufferable man. I’ve had
enough of you. Why am I even arguing with you anyway? A waste of my
time. I’m leaving. And I pray to God that if I see you again, I’ll
bite off my own tongue,” Clarice vowed.
Hunter felt a little disappointed when
Clarice said she was going. He was having so much fun with the
bickering and the teasing. He didn’t want it to end yet.
“I’ll wager you on that, Avocado,” he said,
just so they could continue with their bickering a little more. “If
I see you again, I swear on my life that I’ll never look at another
woman again. Which is hardly likely since I love my girls too much.
And just for the record, my name is Hunter. You know, the
mysterious Hunter that likes to hunt down innocent girls.”
Then he winked at her.
Come on, give me a good comeback, he
challenged.
“Arrrgh, you Casanova. I hope you marry a
woman who holds an iron rod in her hand. Then she’ll beat you into
shape.” Clarice growled, then stormed off, leaving Hunter to laugh
in her wake.