SAFE (mxm)

Chapter 5. An Odd Number (David)

   [Trigger warning - symptoms of OCD described]

   (Present time)

   My attention is drawn to a metal, double wing, sliding door at the far end of the hall. Maybe, this is where I have to go. I am walking slowly. The vast, empty space around me calms me down. There is no need to brush against objects of questionable cleanliness. No one can stop me and start a conversation, holding out a hand I would try to avoid without being rude.

   I stop halfway at the sudden realization that there is someone waiting for me behind that door. He probably expects me to be sociable and even eager to meet him. No, he must be perfectly aware that I am nothing of the kind. What did they tell him? What did he request his partner to be? I suddenly want desperately to talk to Lea. How exactly did she decide that the two of us should meet? 

   My anxiety level is raising quickly again. The possibility of that someone touching me makes my insides twist. It's a good thing that I haven't eaten all day or otherwise I would be throwing up right now. This is a torture. I am determinedly counting the metal panels on the wall. If they are more than fifty before I reach...

   My phone rings, putting an end to the idiotic rule I was about to create again. It is in my jacket. Of course! I am so relieved.

   "Hello, Angel!" Lea's voice feels like a mother's warm embrace for a frightened child. "Are you already in the building? Did you see the sliding doors? You have to..."

   "Aren't there enough hotels in this city?" I snap at her like that same kid whose mother has soothed him, but still insists that he writes his homework. "I am not paying a hundred thousand euro to be dragged to a deserted factory in the old industrial area."

   "Ouch! That was mean," Lea laughs lightly. "Angel, when exactly have you enjoyed staying in a hotel? I happen to know that you don't like narrow spaces, crowds and small talk. Am not I right?"

   "I'm sorry! I... this is actually an excellent idea. I'm just so nervous..." I stop a few steps from the door, gazing at the shining, silver surface. "Lea, what is he? Why does he want to see me?"

   "Well, you have your reasons and he has his," she answers vaguely.

   "I want to see him before we meet," I state stubbornly. "I am not going in before you send me a picture."

   "This is entirely your choice, Angel," she answers, without paying attention to my resolute tone. "You can always decide to stop this at any time. The agreement is that no pictures will be exchanged, remember? You both decided that you should step into this with no presumptions. You may never see each other, if you keep the masks on."

   "Are you his personal assistant too?" I ask, barely hiding the accusation in my voice. My emotions are swinging between fear, anger and gratitude. I am aware that, on a subconscious level, this is an attempt to provoke her. I want her to make me mad, so that I can turn around and leave.

   "No, I work only for you," she chuckles. "He has his own assistant and this is all I am going to say. Stop pouting!"

   "I am scared," I finally whisper.

   "I know," she sighs. "You need to trust me. Everything will be fine. You have already come so far, Angel. Don't ruin it! Are you wearing your mask?"

   "Oh, the mask!" I totally forgot about it. I take it out of my pocket. 

   "Put it on, take a breath and go through that door. Good luck!"

   "Lea, wait! I..." She is out before I can think of more excuses to postpone the inevitable. Argh, why did I promise Sarah? I am a victim of two sly women. I tide the mask, careful not to ruin my hair, hesitate for few more second and slide the doors open.

   I enter a vast, cozy living room, very much resembling the one in my house. The colors are earthly. Dark brown, leather stools are lined along the natural wood bar on the left. The plush upholstery of the diamond tufted sofas is in warm, yellow ochre. Subtle cinnamon fragrance is lingering in the air. It's dark inside, the type of twilight that makes you feel anonymous and protected. 

   I look around slowly until my gaze falls on the sofa, right opposite the door. There's a man, sitting there. He is not moving, only watching me silently. I can't distinguish his features. His face is hidden behind a black mask, leaving only his eyes uncovered. His medium length hair is tucked behind his ears. It is raven, smooth and shiny in the glow of the fireplace behind him. His slender figure, in black jeans and biker jacket, is still and relaxed.

   The light is not enough to see him. I unconsciously glimpse at the ceiling. There are no fixtures there. Only six grey, dome pendants are hanging over the bar, casting dim rays and long shadows around. Six! I visibly cringe. My pulse instantly starts racing. I can't remain a second longer in this room. What the hell was I thinking? I step back, rubbing my sweaty palms into the lapels of my jacket. A jolt of guilt and regret rushes through my body while I am turning back to the door. This man intrigued me. There is something in the way he is looking at me, in his posture, something about his eyes that I want to see better. Too bad it will never happen.

   "Angel!" A firm, husky voice stops me a second before I run out. "Look at me! How many?" The strong accent makes it sound somewhat abrupt, but melodic at the same time. 

   "What?" I barely utter and stare at him. He is standing in the middle of the room and I can clearly see his eyes now. They are big, almond-shaped, deep and dark.

   "How many?" he repeats. "The number of the lamps is bothering you. How many should they be?"

   I am so startled by the question that can't produce a single sound. Minutes are passing. He is waiting for my answer with no signs of annoyance or impatience. I finally manage to choke out, "An odd number."

   "Is it only the bulb or also the shade and the cord?" he asks again.

   I respond faster this time, "The whole body."

   "Hai," he nods. "Can you wait there for a moment?"

   I only elicit an inarticulate sound which he obviously perceives as a confirmation and deftly climbs onto the bar plot. I watch him in amazement while he is dismantling quickly one of the lamps.

   "It... It... is dangerous," I mutter. "The power supply is on."

   "Don't worry," he laughs quietly. "I won't get shocked by electricity."

   I am fascinated by the way he subtly splits the words in defined syllables, pronouncing the 'r' rather like 'l' and putting a barely audible extra 'u' at the end of some words. His voice is commanding, but the accent makes it sound kind of cute.

   "Done," he finally jumps down. "Better?"

   "Yes," I release the breath I've been holding. "Thank you!"

   "Hai!"

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A/N

Hello everyone at the end of chapter 5.

Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤

David did the impossible and finally met his date.

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