Hopelessly Smitten ✔

S M I T T E N

Spencer

"Sir, Miss Visalba has postponed your meeting since she's feeling unwell today," my secretary says as I try making my way to my desk, massaging the bridge of my nose a lot of times, completely curious of what on earth has happened to that girl for postponing our meeting.

I check my wristwatch, heaving a sign, but decide to just think of some random things.

"But why?" I ask again, thousands of questions enveloping my system.

I can't really believe that girl. Yesterday, she was the one who did everything just to make me have a brief meeting with her. And now, I am furious and feeling defeated because I just rejected an important business proposal from one particular company, our potential investor in our newly released brand of phone.

"She came from her photoshoot in Barcelona, and last night, she caught a high fever due to the sudden rain when she was at the beach."

"What has she said to you?"

"She is feeling unwell, sir," he answers again, and properly fixes her eyeglasses on top of his nose. "Oh, I forgot. She even wished for a favor."

"What favor are you talking about?" I begin to become curious.

My brows automatically tug as he hands me a white sheet of slick bond paper. It is being folded into two parts, and the front cover is covered with so many colorful flowers. I am totally tongue-tied, can't speak, and can't move. "Is she a teen trying to confess her eternal feelings towards her crush?"

I shift on my seat, gradually untying the ribbon, and start to notice how girly the letter is.

"So, she has great feelings for me, huh?" I wickedly ask the innocent air and eventually chuckle just in front of my secretary. I can't really believe that girl. She never fails my prediction and judgement of her.

I know that she is innocent like a cute newborn puppy who always poops everywhere, but for god's sake, she is already in her twenties now!

Old enough to become mature even for a little. Jesus. Even for a little.

Can she act like that?

"Uh, sir," my secretary interrupts my monologue session "I guess that letter is not for you."

"Why?"

"It's for Hershly."

"What? How do you say so?"

"It's written in the back," he politely responds and points out something using his pinky finger.

My madness engulfs me again, making my throat dry as if I had been gone in the Sahara desert for a long time.

A lot of officers from the head department go inside my office and sit on the visitor chair.

And as usual, my secretary steps backward and leaves the room. Meanwhile, I just hid the obnoxious yet lovely letter in my little drawer.

I know that sentence doesn't make any sense. How is being obnoxious paired with being lovely? Fuck that girl; this is all her fault. I am supposed to be professionally attentive since I am with officers right now who are currently giving me more crucial updates regarding our products and how we can advertise them in public.

"My daughter knows such a great model whose sexy photos have been flashed on different billboards all around the world," a black-haired man says, smiling from ear to ear. The others seem to be enjoying the topic as well.

"And who's that model?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Miss Visalba."

My pulses quicken. And my tensed veins start to compress. I inhale a vast amount of oxygen. There are a lot of models all around the globe, so there's no need to panic. "Can I know the name?"

"Frency Visalba, the new young model from BETA Company from the Philippines, yet produces such a loud and unbearable impact on all men and sends such insecurities to all women out there," the man says proudly and continues, "What do you think? Haven't you heard about her? Well, I know she is not your type."

They laugh, and I just ball my fist and massage the back of my hair, upset.

"She looks innocent, but our chairman loves a wild and cocky girl," the other man in a gray suit says, undeniably teasing me. "So, back to our agenda: I already contacted that model. And fortunately, she said yes and agreed."

"What?" I stood up, screaming, and I couldn't believe it. She just did what? She has postponed our meeting, yet she accepted someone's offer? She is indeed acting unfairly and unprofessionally-a kind of attitude that I really hate the most.

"That's good." I sit down again, trying hard to raise the blue flag.

A minute later, God finally gives me a peaceful time when they all walk off, leaving me to think about that girl again. Until now, I still couldn't believe that she could wear such sexy and revealing photos for the sake of money.

She is already rich even at her young age, so I can't really understand why she still wants to expose her fair and silky skin on every billboard, making all men watch intently at her long, creamy, and seemingly untouched legs.

"God, what are you doing to me?" I frustratedly inquired before marching off to the wide corridor.

As I step outside the building, a wide and prestigious screen just in front of me is showing consecutive photos from only one particular person. I stare upon her classic beauty, unintentionally idolizing her again.

But the thing that's distracting me the most is the pair of small moles in her upper thigh, which are waking up my sleeping brain and turning my tensed muscles on.

At first, I thought life was so easy, but as the years passed, I realized that life is obnoxious, especially for those poor who pray every day to win the lottery.

Since I was a kid, I already carried a lot of responsibility in my arms, sometimes making me question whether I was born to live happily or the other way around.

My mom and father had a divorce when I was a kid, and unluckily, she made me choose between her and papa. And now, too bad, but I regret nothing.

On that day, I chose my dad, and never in a million years would I become jealous of my sister (who had chosen mom) just because she is rich and can buy anything she wants.

I was used to buying my only basic needs and securing the rest of my money for the future because I knew I would still be the only one who could benefit at the end.

I was just living peacefully, without having any regrets or doubts, but there is a man named Spencer whose arrogance could reach the planet Jupiter.

And I can't deny he got the looks that made everyone flicker after him. But never in a million years would I become flustered just because of silly and corny jokes from him.

But I became tongue-tied for predicting everything. Because I was wrong for judging him like that.