The writer and the boxer - a sweet romance

Chapter 2

I stepped into the elevator with my head down as I replaced my keys in my bag. Gasping as I noticed toes mocking me with a reminder of a very uncomfortable experience. I lift my eyes and behold hazel answered to my own darker brown. I feigned a smile, simultaneously muffling a greeting. My tongue, for some reason, got lost in my mouth and would not find its way out so my words could be clearly expressed. He smiled and politely nodded with acknowledgment.

I had all but forgotten his presence in my building and decided to ask if he was a visitor or a tenant.

"Are you visiting someone," I squeaked as my tongue found a small space to push through.

"No, I'm actually apartment sitting for a friend," his words gushed out so sure and precise.

He tilted his head to the side and regarded me with a sort of curiosity. I notice his smile and return same as I regal in his presence. When I saw a hand raise to my face I felt disconcerted and panicked, thinking he was going to hurt me in some way. My hand swat his and I looked at him in anger awaiting an apology.

The hand I rose was now being held captive in his, and a chortle emanated from his throat.

"You have something on the side of your mouth," he said, "it looks like remnants of your breakfast."

I flush embarrassed and start apologising for my preconceived notions. I even muttered a few spanish words as my nervousness sets in once again.

"It's no problem," he smiles and sticks his hand out for an introduction. "Me llamo Jean-Luc, but you can call me Luc," he mimics my use of spanish. I laugh, trying to become more at ease with this well pedicured man.

"Nice to meet you Luc, I'm Jennifer."

"Lovely to meet you. Are you the building siren?"

He startled me with his question and I raised one shaky hand, brushing away an imaginary strand of hair replying, "Uhm, I'm just Jennifer, no siren."

The elevator dings and the doors open letting in fresh air that my nostrils soaked in. I wave a 'see-you-later' to him and rush out the door willing myself not to take another look at the best specimen of male I have ever seen, with a pedicure I might add.

He did rattle my insides a little though, I considered inwardly, and smirked as I remembered his reference to a siren. I wish I was a siren at that moment. A sexy, sensual, slim being who can lull a man with a voice that leaves them smitten. I was stuck with thick calves, thick waistline and enough booty to grab when necessary. My only solace, no need for fake breast implants. Those I possessed 'au naturale'.

I should have been more forthright and invited him to my book reading but I really couldn't find the courage to invite him. Other opportunities I hope would present itself. I sauntered away feeling a bit more energized and changed the title of the book I had in mind to another which spoke about moments lost and second chances given.

AN. Don't forget to vote and comment.

What would you have done in a situation like this?