Healing Melody (Very Slow Updates)

16. Ruthlessly Inevitable

Galan and I are strolling through the narrow and packed streets of Manhattan's Chinatown.

It was my suggestion to come here and I was absolutely shocked when Galan said he's never been here before.

I'd thought it was because it wasn't up to his standards and began to think of another place when he stopped me to say, "I just never had anyone I wanted to come here with."

Another brick in the fortress built to protect myself had crumbled into dust.

We've just finished our dinner—if you consider dumplings and many other small eateries dinner—and we're now enjoying dessert.

Ice cream.

Chocolate for me and vanilla for him.

As we slurp on the perfect globes of sweet flavor perched on crunchy cones, a comfortable silence shrouds us even as lively chatter surround us.

Galan finishes his ice cream first and inclines his head slightly at me with his brows drawn downwards into a frown. "You should've worn more layers, Gloria."

I peer down at my workout clothes and lick my lips before responding. "The weather isn't that cold yet, so–"

"I know. I just don't like how every single man who passes by us is eye-fucking you."

I choke a little on the sweetness sliding down my throat but manage to remain as cool as a chilled cucumber.

After I discreetly suck in a breath, I whip my head towards him with a coquettish look which origins are unknown.

My inner-bitch snorts at my attempt at getting the prey hooked, but I give her the finger and proceed to flirt even though I know what he said was an exaggeration.

"Oh? And why should I care just because you don't like that?"

I'm well aware that I don't look appealing at all right now.

I probably look like wilted seaweed—if that makes sense.

Renegade strands from my ponytail are pasted on my nape and on my cheeks, which are overly flushed and sticky with dried sweat.

He breathes out a low growl, briefly looking straight ahead before turning his gaze back to mine. "You're right. You shouldn't care. I guess I'll have to make you mine first."

My breath hitches and I reach up with my free hand to toy with my ponytail.

As my sleeve falls open slightly, Galan notices the purplish blue discoloration on the inner side of my upper arm.

Another frown crosses his beautiful features as he turns me around to face him, halting our forward progress.

He holds my arm in place and lifts his fingers to gently touch it. "Did I hurt you earlier?"

"Oh, nonono! I fell from a chair on Sunday. I'm a klutz—butter limbs and all—and I bruise easily. A really bad combination if you asked me." I ramble on with frayed nerves because he is leaning dangerously close with his face almost at level with my boobs.

And besides the fact that, well—they're my boobs—I'm quite certain I don't smell like Chanel No. 5 right now.

I breathe out a small sigh when he moves back and lets my arm fall back to my side.

He's still holding my hand though—those fingers warming the skin above my wrist—as he jokes lightly, "So are you one of those people who walk into poles?"

When I press my lips together and blink not-so-innocently, his smile disappears and a look of disbelief replaces it.

"Well, not a pole, but a pool." I offer him a sheepish grin.