181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 2: The Anomaly

For some reason, I wasn't dizzy anymore.

I looked around and realized that I could still see hourglasses on everybody's heads, but I had no more idea of how many days these people had left. Other than this spectacular miracle, what also intrigued me was how this person in front of me had all the grains of sand seemingly magnetized in the upper bulb, only it remained its mountainlike shape.

"Sorry, are you—"

"Who are you?" I asked, amazement and excitement in my tone. There was confusion in her face, but I wouldn't let this chance pass to get to know her. After a decade of living without answers, I finally had met one who transcended this phenomenon. An outlier.

Of course there was a possibility that this magical moment—not that seeing hourglasses and knowing when people die were not magical per se—could only happen once or that there was some sort of glitch in this curse, like in computer applications, and then I'd be back to knowing people's death dates at any moment. But how would I know? Neither did I consent to this power, nor did I know its limits, so I wouldn't know if it was lifted unless I take the risk.

"Uh . . . well, by any chance, are you Jane?" she asked.

What an attractive sight she was that I couldn't resist noticing her features. One might mistake her as a guy because of her defined jawline, short-layered hair that reached just before her shoulders, and sharp foxlike eyes, not to mention her deep voice that sent me chills down my spine.

"Oh, no," I replied, shaking my head, thinking what an irony it was that whom she was looking for had the same name as my archnemesis at school.

"Oh, sorry then."

She turned her back and was about to move to the opposite direction when my hands reached for her shoulder. I was as stunned as she was.

"Can I hang around with you while you wait for, err, who's that again? Jane?"

She smirked, as if realizing I was interested with her. I wouldn't deny it if she asked me. "If I were my blind date, I'll be disappointed to see you around."

I frowned, but she clarified, "You're a tight competition."

Smiling at her remark, I replied, "Tight competitions make relationships challenging and fun, don't you think? Besides, it's just a blind date and . . . she seems late."

Yeah right. As if you aren't late at Steph's party, I reprimanded myself.

"That's a unique take." She moved to the side, near the wall, so people could pass through. I followed. "I'd rather have none. Worry-free, stress-free."

"C'mon, just one glass."

"One glass? Make that a bottle."

"A bottle!" I laughed. Other than wanting to find out what would happen if I drink when I was with a clear irregularity of my curse, I also wanted to test if she somehow was fond of me. Steph said flirts usually used alcohol as conversation starters, so I tried to pull that off, expected this woman to only agree, but then got a better response. Speaking of Steph, she would definitely wonder and call me a liar next if she saw me drinking around.

"Well, you see—" I stopped midway upon realizing that the hourglasses above people's heads were now gone and smiled in effect.

When she saw me looking above her and smiling like an idiot, her brows furrowed. Thinking she got weirded out, I immediately acted as if there was a mosquito and clapped my hands above her.

"Sorry, I was . . . distracted. What was I saying?"

"You were in the middle of—"

Applying everything I knew about flirting, I leaned forward, making sure that my chest touched her arm, and seductively whispered in her ear, "Ah, yes, well, you see . . . I know the people around here and . . . I told them I'm not drinking today, but . . . I'd really, really like to drink with you."

I just hoped it worked.

Seeing her smile and brush her lips with her finger got me turned on. This was what I wanted tonight, and I fervently prayed that she'd diss that Jane for me.

"Ten more minutes," she pleaded. "Then where'd we go?"

Yes, yes, yes! My mind was extremely excited but my demeanor calm. "I don't know of any bar opening tonight. It's a Monday after all. We can go to my place."

"I was actually surprised this was open."

No contentions. Perfect. "My friend is a rich bitch." I pointed to Steph who was mindlessly dancing with her cousins. "It's her birthday."

"Yeah, the DJ announced it. Wait, won't she look for you?"

I shook my head then winked as I said, "She'll understand. So . . . five minutes?"

"Ten?"

I looked at my watch. "Six? Nine?"

When she laughed, I knew she got my dirty joke. I was thrilled to be with a stranger who got me head over heels within seconds. A stunning woman. An anomaly.

"Fine. Ten," I finally agreed.

As if knowing I was already into her, she rested her right arm on the wall next to my head, leaned her face a bit, and whispered in her deep voice, "Perfect. Wait for me outside. If I don't come in ten, then you already know what I'm up to."

She then walked and returned to the bar counter, while I left the venue, tremendously intoxicated by her presence. Now I had two goals tonight: to check if the glitch would happen again when we drink . . . and—if it didn't—get laid and leave.