Behind The Face Of A Stigma

Basics

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What did I just do? Naomi condemned herself mentally. I panicked again! I fucking panicked!!! I didn't even give him a chance to listen to what he had to say. What if he had something else to say?

She needed to get her shit together. She thought. Why was she even bothered about him knowing her past? It was because she could not stand a complete stranger being fed lies and eventually believe it.

People would believe a lie all because they want it to be true or because they are afraid it just might be true... Her mother once told her. How true! She thought. Those who had spread the rumors had made it seem real, they even believed their own lies or had simply wished that it was the truth.

Pathetic! She was pathetic. How did she even get involved with them in the first place? After work daily, she walked back home as fast as her legs could carry her and never wasted even as little as a minute at her work place for any chitchat. She avoided keeping any company of friends and turned down every party invites from her colleagues at work.

She was completely lost in thought on her way back from work that she didn't notice the red ferrari drive past her and parked swiftly in front of her.

No sooner had he stepped out of his car than he asked, "why did you hang up the call?" He asked in an icy tone that could have scared any of his employees but rather sounded sexy to Naomi's ears.

His eyes blazed with anger and Naomi wondered how he could look this way despite that he was mad. He was ruthlessly handsome.

Her eyes went to his cloth. She had never met anyone who was twisted when it came to clothing. She had seen Nathan dressed in suits as much as he liked casuals.

He was wearing a loose white T-shirt that didn't do much justice to the appearance of his biceps and blue jeans that hugged his lean thighs.

Naomi noticed that his black hair looked as if he ran his hands through it multiple times for the strands were shooting out every which way. Her hands itched to touch and push them back in place but she pushed back the impulse, scared he might see through her feelings if she did.

He was no model but he sure looked like one. He looked ravishing as ever. Naomi dropped her gaze and ran her tongue over her lips to moisten her suddenly dry lips.

How can one person look this good? She asked under her breath. It's unfair. She thought.

It was torture. It was no use pretending he didn't affect her that much. She could not control what her heart chose to feel and just when she thinks she had finally succeeded in crushing those feelings, she still found herself drawn to him anytime he shows up.

She could not help it, but there sure was one thing she could do and that's controlling her actions. That was why she was avoiding him as much as she could.

Nathan was pissed. All his life, no one, not his employees, business clients, numerous servants, his past girlfriends and play toys or even his parents ever hung up the phone on him. He did instead. Naomi's action trampled his male pride and ego. He couldn't stand it and he had rushed out to question her.

He couldn't stand her pride. He was always the proud one, not the other way round. He could not stand someone else paying him back a taste of his own medicine.

"What's your problem? Why are you so proud?" He flared.

"Do you think I'm happy doing this?" He continued when she didn't reply. "You're not even my type!" He said raising his voice, which was laced with frustration.

At that she raised her head and there was hurt written on her face before she quickly masked it and dropped her gaze again. She rocked back on one foot and another and her hands were behind her.