I Like Your Shoes | ✓

Chapter 19 | The Woof Woof Talk

[Calum Achorn]

Ambrosia Bellemore looked happy when she skipped into the office in the morning. When I asked her to bring me my coffee twice, she sang 'right away, Sir' at me with a smile the size of my father's head and skipped away.

I wasn't happy.

It wasn't as if I wasn't happy seeing her happy. Rather, I wasn't happy because the reason she was happy wasn't me.

I shake my head in bewilderment.

I'm turning into a character straight out of a romance novel, I thought.

That mustn't do.

So I called Timothy, who was busy spending his time with his fiancé back in Sydney. Spending time together before they could get married and spend more time together.

"Calum? What's wrong?" He asks the second he picks up the call.

"Nothing's wrong, except everything is."

"I think I've heard that somewhere."

"Shut up, Green. I think there's something wrong with me."

"That's about time you realised that, Calum."

"I'll take away all the candy you hide in your drawer, Timothy." I threaten.

"You wouldn't dare! You can't come between me and my precious!" He cries dramatically.

"Who the hell is precious, you man from the scum?" A deadly voice hollers from the other side. Timothy starts cursing under his breath.

"It's Caecelia, she'll have my hide for her fur coat now. Thank you so much, Calum." He hisses at me. I chuckle as I listen to various objects being thrown at my best friend and his pathetic screams at her to stop.

"Enjoy your first fight, Timothy." I say before I hang up, their screams are the only reply I get.

I like her already.

Sighing, I slump down on my seat. I look at the notepad that lay on the table in front of me, the numbers Ambrosia had scribbled on my arm now jotted down on the paper. I'd circled them so many times that the paper was a little torn.

Since I had no one to talk to about the flurry inside my gut, I decided I might as well write a letter. It was a practise my father had inculcated in all of his children. When confused, write a letter. That didn't solve problems but it did bring them to the surface.

I tore a piece of paper from a notebook, picked up my favourite pen and started writing.

Dear Miss Bellemore,

It's hard seeing you everyday for the real you while you see me as a man with no feelings and a heart made of stone. It's been my ardent desire to scream at the top of my lungs, so loud that even Stephen in the mail room can hear me, and tell you that the man you'd spent twenty four hours on the plane to New York was me. But that can't be done, Miss Bellemore. The walls of Achorn House are soundproof, as you must be aware.

It was destiny perhaps, because I can't put off you landing up as my assistant can be termed as anything else. But I've never believed in magic, or fate. It was a coincidence perhaps, but a well played one, I must admit.

But it isn't destiny I'm concerned with right now. It's this feeling of confusion, and the sudden eruption of fireworks in the general area of my chest that has me concerned. You wouldn't happen to know any cardiologists by any chance, would you?

I cannot term this feeling as likeness towards you, because I've honestly never felt like this before, so I wouldn't know. But I've read about it, So I think I'll know when I fall in love. But about one thing I am sure, and it's that my feelings for you aren't brotherly. When I think about you as my sister, it makes me want to vomit all over the linoleum floor.