Feel Me

Chapter Three

"What do you mean by that, Ebere? I told you to be patient. I don't care what he thinks, tell him to shove it!"

Martin glanced from his phone at the sound of Lydia's angry voice. He had thought at first that he hallucinated her voice; but there she stood standing next to a phone booth speaking angrily in another language.

She was definitely a sight even in a temper. The white sundress she wore stopped modestly above her knees displaying those dark toned shapely limbs to perfection with a pair of black sandals gracing her feet. His gaze swept upwards to her curvy frame and to her dark, cat-shaped eyes; her thick spongy hair swept to the top of her head fell in heavy curls hanging above her nape.

He felt his body tighten instinctively at the sight of her. She had purposefully ignored him at Rahvel's engagement and also avoided his table whenever he visited Brennan's. He really wanted to talk to her.

He dropped a tip before exiting the café, then crossed the road to meet her before she'd disappeared on him. Again. She didn't see him as he approached from behind and it seemed she was through with the phone call.
Without thinking, he reached over and tapped her shoulder.

"Ehen? What is it?" she snapped without looking up.

⸙

Lydia glanced over her shoulder to the man standing behind her before turning fully to meet him. "Is there a problem?" she asked with veiled irritation, impatience painted vividly on her features as she returned the man's light scowl with one of her own.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked, astonished.

Her scowl deepened. "Am I supposed to?"

"It's me, Martin." He supplied.

She just gave him a dead stare
.
"From the party you catered. We talked a little bit."

"I have served in different venues for different occasions. I'm sorry if you don't ring a bell."

Martin gaped. "Are you shitting me?"

Lydia gave him a thorough once over. "The very fact that I don't remember you means you aren't worth remembering, my dear."

Martin frowned in anger at the mild insult. Was she pretending? He tried another angle. "I was the man who had dinner with the rare meat and salad lady at Brennan's."

Lydia's face cleared and amusement bloomed along with recognition on her face. "Oh... the one who got abandoned on his date."

He smiled, pleased she remembered him from that at least. "No. I wasn't abandoned. She left of her own volition."

She nodded slowly. "Ah...yes, after she caught you ogling me like a pervert."

Martin laughed. "I'm not a pervert."

"No?"

He shook his head with a smile on his lips. "Not the very least."

Lydia watched him silently and wondered why he took such pains to see her when she thought nothing of him. He was attractive. Fine. But she didn't want him. Barely knew him.

Keep telling yourself that.

She didn't.

Martin gazed at her with those gold flecked tigerish eyes. "Would you care to stay for a chat? I was over there -" he pointed to the café "when I heard you."

Lydia glanced at the bustling café then back to man in front of her and shook her head, "No. I can't. I'm due for work in 10 minutes." She replied. "And will arrive late if I don't leave now. Goodbye. She turned to leave and had walked a considerable distance when she felt a firm grip on her arm, stopping her tracks. Lydia turned to him with a dry stare.