Pretty Falling Pieces by Isabelle Culpo
Chapter Two
“Wear something sexy!” Jess calls from the living room.
That might be a problem.
I don’t own anything remotely sexy, so frumpy and oversized will just have to do.
As soon as we got back to my apartment, I was rushed straight into the bedroom to get ready, while Jess lay on the couch and scrolled through her phone. Since I own this apartment, Jess was supposed to have been checking in on it every once in a while, but judging by the short glimpse I got of my dehydrated Monstera, that’s been a rare occurrence.
Hot steam rises from the shower, letting me know the temperature is ready, and I jump in and embrace the warm, cleansing water.
Pouring vanilla body wash into my palms, I rinse off the grime of hours of travel and loosen up the stiff muscles in my legs and back from sitting so long.
Once I’ve dried off, I find a bottle of body oil in my cupboard and decide to work that into my skin.
Thanks to years of cystic acne as a teenager, I’ve always been passionate about my skincare regimen. Even though it’s completely cleared now, I’ll probably still be just as diligent with my routine. After all, once you give acne the boot, wrinkles start knocking at the door.
I apply a light layer of bb cream, blush, mascara, and lip-gloss then head to my wardrobe. Since I haven’t worn anything dressy in a while, it takes me longer than usual to piece together my outfit.
I decide on a dark pair of jeans at the back of my closet. They’ve been hanging there, unworn, for about three years, while I was waiting for the time when I’d finally “lost weight” and could fit into them.
They fit like a glove and go perfectly with the blush chiffon blouse and brown boots in my wardrobe. I put in a pair of thin gold hoop earrings then head out the door.
When I walk out the door, Jess is still on her phone, but she lifts her gaze and looks up at me. “Girl, you’re going to have no idea what hit you.”
Both Jess and I live in apartments in the CBD, so it’s a short walk to the viaduct where we’re meeting Trent. The waterfront is stunning, and I realise how much I’ve missed it while being away. Despite never being one to indulge the city’s nightlife, I can’t deny its electric energy. The upscale restaurants and bars overlooking dazzling ocean views.
However, like any other major city, Auckland is forever under construction.
Already I recognise three new developments that are underway. It’s difficult to tell at this time of night, but one of the buildings, in particular, looks very impressive.
Situated in a prestigious location, the building exudes wealth and luxury.
I don’t have long to admire it though because before I know it, we’re outside the bar, Swig. It’s especially busy, even for a Friday night.
“Are you sure this is where he wanted to meet? It looks like some sort of function is on,” I ask Jess, praying that it is so it’s an excuse to go back home.
“Yes, I’m sure. One of Trent’s clients is having their roof-shout, and he said we could tag along.”
Ugh, really?An excuse for builders to drink beer once the roof of a building has been erected is not my typical cup of tea.
There’s also the fact that unlike Jess, I always feel too shy to show up to events I wasn’t personally invited to. Especially when they’re this fancy.
“Must be a pretty impressive roof,” I say under my breath. Usually this sort of thing would consist of canned beer and a sausage sizzle. The bar tab alone is going to cost the owner a fortune.
The barstools outside are mostly occupied by men, so I’m not surprised when I see heads turn at Jess’s arrival.
What catches me off guard is when their eyes go past her and land on me.
I have never, ever noticed stares like that before.
My cheeks flame.
While there have been times in my life that I’ve felt overlooked, especially during my youth, I’ve always seen my invisibility as a positive thing. I don’t get harassed by strangers who’re only interested in sex, and I’ve never had to feel uncomfortable being the object of the male gaze.
Until now.
Realising my discomfort, Jess grabs my hand, and we head to a quiet-ish table in the corner of the room. She offers to shout the first round of drinks and heads to the bar. Since I’m sitting there alone, I pull out my phone trying to look busy.
The battery’s gone dead.
“Shoot,” I mutter, stuffing it back in my purse.
At least I’m walking distance from home.
I’ll stay for a couple of drinks until Trent arrives then head off. I have a feeling Jess is going to want to leave with him anyway, so that’ll be my opportunity to duck out early.
Suddenly remembering I forgot to ask Jess for something non-alcoholic, I look up to see whether she’s already ordered and standing across the room, with his elbow leaning casually on the bar, is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life.
He’s gorgeous.
No beyond gorgeous.
My mind is struggling for the right words to describe his perfection.
I love New Zealand, but they just don’t make them like this here.
He has that magic energy some people possess where they instantly catch your eye in a room full of people. I swear it’s only been a couple of moments when someone in his group says something that has him turning his head in my direction.
Our eyes connect for a brief, embarrassing second and I catch a look of surprise on his face.
Bugger! I look down at the table and pull out my phone, typing out an invisible message on my phone that’s gone flat.
After a few aged minutes Jess returns to our table, two goblets of traffic light coloured cocktails in hand. There’s even a mini umbrella and slice of pineapple adorning each one.
Couldn’t she have chosen something a little more inconspicuous?
“We scored, there’s a tab on the bar. Drink up,” she says, landing the drink in front of me. I take a small sip. Despite appearances it’s actually delicious and refreshing. Outside it’s cold enough to need a jacket, but now I feel uncomfortably hot.
“You look a little flushed. Are you feeling alright?”
If she knew the real reason my cheeks resembled tomatoes, I’d never hear the end of it. It wouldn’t surprise me if she pulled him over to our table to introduce us. That’s not my style though; I’m more of the admire from afar and avoid actual contact type. He’ll remain a pie in the sky fantasy, along with all the other crushes from my life. That way there’s absolutely no chance of rejection, and my heart remains intact. “Yeah, I’m fine, just hot.”
“Yeah, it is a bit stuffy, isn’t it?” She shrugs off her jacket. “So…next Friday is a long weekend and Trent and I were thinking of heading up north to my parents’ holiday home. I think you should come.”
With just her and her new boyfriend? Who I haven’t even met yet?
“I appreciate the offer, Jess, but I think I’ll just stay in Auckland. I’ve got so much to organise now that I’m back, especially with work.”
Before my stint in Africa, I worked as an interior designer. While I was fortunate enough to be able to take time off to go to Rubanza, I have prospective projects lined up for the next few months that I need to start locking in.
She pouts at my answer. “Why don’t we make it a girls’ weekend then? I want to spend time with you now that you’re finally back, and you can always work remotely since we have Wi-Fi. We can even set you up a little desk in one of the spare bedrooms to work on.”
Even though I want to, how can I say no to that?
“Okay then, sure. A weekend away will be nice, especially now that we’re heading into winter.”
I do have a lot to catch up on, but I’ll mainly be responding to emails, which technically can be done from anywhere.
“Yay!” she squeals. “I’m so looking forward to it.”
We pick up where we left off during our conversation from the car ride when Jess’s phone starts ringing. “Hey babe, where are you?” she asks.
Must be Trent.
It’s been about half an hour since we were supposed to meet him, but he hasn’t arrived yet. Jess assumed he must still be held up at work.
Her brows furrow. “Hang on a second, I can’t hear you…” She mouths “sorry” and ducks outside to avoid the noise.
I give her a thumbs up to let her know it’s fine and once again, I’m sitting alone.
I take a look around the bar, which seems to be getting busier by the minute.
I’m grateful we got here in time for a table.
Despite my earlier embarrassment, my eyes drift across the room seeking out the man I saw at the bar. I spot him with a new group of people, all of whom seem captivated by whatever he’s saying. One man in particular reminds me a bit of my father. He has opportunist eyes. Through them you can practically see the cogs in their brain working overtime in front of someone successful or rich. He interrupts, adding his two cents worth and the rest of the group ever so slightly deflates.
A woman in the corner of the group, who I barely noticed at first, tries to contribute to the conversation. But unfortunately for her she picked the wrong time.
Mr. Opportunist has the floor and he’s not ready to pass over the mic.
He continues as she begins to speak and once it’s clear he doesn’t plan on stopping, her chest stains with red blotches. I cringe with secondhand embarrassment, all too familiar with that feeling. Everything’s made slightly better though when I notice the good-looking guy wink at her in acknowledgement.
I’m not sure why, but it sort of makes my heart melt.
The woman is on the heavier side, like I’ve always been, and in my experience, those sorts of men don’t waste their time trying to make us feel better.
Men are nice to women they want to sleep with, the rest they are either indifferent or cruel to.
Transfixed in people watching, Jess startles me when she returns to the table.
“Trent can’t make it. He’s been held up at work. Sorry for dragging you out here for nothing,” she says.
“That’s alright, we’ll just meet another time.” The jet lag is kicking in so I can’t say as though I’m disappointed.
Just as I’m about to leave my seat, she blurts out, “I think I’m in love with him, Imogen.”
I don’t know who’s more surprised by her confession. Me or her.
Recognising my best friend’s need to vent, I decide to sit and chat for one more drink. But after my second cocktail, my eyes feel heavy, and it’s a struggle to keep them open. A few minutes ago it looked like Jess was ready to leave too, but it seems she’s run into old friends and has found her second wind.
Not wanting to spoil her fun, I let her know I’m going to head out. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she replies, “Message me when you’re home, so I know you got there safely.”
“Yes, Mother.” I kiss her on the cheek, relieved that in a few short moments I’ll be snuggled up in my own bed for the first time in eight months. I can hear it calling my name from only a few blocks away.
Just as I’m about to reach the exit, someone grabs my wrist from behind me. I turn to face them and find myself staring into the same deep brown eyes I’ve been trying to avoid all night.
Eyes that are staring at me right now with an expression I can’t quite make out.
Gosh, he’s even better looking up close!
How is that even possible?
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. How long have you been working for Copeland Construction?” He extends his hand out to me, but I’m too distracted by his voice to take it. His mouth tilts up in a knowing smirk when I fail to reply.
Shit, he knows I don’t work here!
Now I’m going to have to confess that I’ve crashed this random event for a company I know nothing about. I don’t even think Trent actually works here. I’m sure Jess mentioned something about this being one of his clients.
“I’m leaving…uh…I don’t actually work there. I was here with a friend,” the words leave my mouth like a Wasgij, backwards and jumbled.
Wow, my social skills have really taken a dive in these recent months.
Not that they were ever good to begin with.
He smiles revealing straight white teeth. “Who’s your friend? I might know him,” he asks, leaning in closer towards me so I can hear him above the crowd.
I said I was leaving, can’t you just let me duck out without an inquisition.
It’s then I notice the one-inch scar running underneath his left eye. It’s faint but noticeable, and instead of detracting from his features, it almost adds a rugged masculinity to his appearance. He looks to be in his late twenties, maybe a few years older than me.
“Trent,” I blurt out.
“Trent Sullivan?” the name rolls off his tongue with recognition, as though they’re familiar with each other. I nod in response although I can’t be certain. I’m pretty sure that was the name I saw appear on Jess’s caller ID.
“You’re not Jess, are you?” His brows knit together.
I get a whiff of his expensive cologne and I feel my heartbeat accelerate. I’m way out of my depth here. “No. She’s my best friend. We’d arranged to meet Trent here, but he ended up staying late for work. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this was a private function. It was nice meeting you,” I offer hastily, turning towards the door.
He grabs my wrist again. “Wait a second, you don’t need to leave. Stay for another drink.” I feel his thumb trace up and down once and it sends a shiver up my arm.
“I really should get going. I’m sure whoever’s paying for this party doesn’t want randoms crashing it.” And ordering two cocktails on the company’s bar tab.
That devastating smile appears again. “I know the owner, he won’t mind.”
“I’ve actually just returned from a long flight, so I’m going to go home and get some sleep. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Before I can free myself from the grip, his fingers tighten. “It was nice meeting you—”
I hear a woman from across the room call the name Theo, noticing a tone of desperation to her voice.
His head turns as if he’s about to address her, but then almost as if he thinks better of it, his eyes fall back on me.
“My name’s Imogen,” I say, noticing he still hasn’t turned his head to see who it is. “It sounds like someone wants you.”
“Imogen,” he repeats, and I swear I can feel it down to my toes.
Why does it feel so good to hear someone attractive say your name?
“I’m Theo. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
Probably not.
It looks like he’s waiting for a response but being the socially impaired individual that I am, I say nothing, just nod, and then turn and head out the door, cursing my lack of grace. Whoever was calling after Theo has finally got his attention because I barely make out the words “Who were you talking to?” on my way out. I’d be worried it was the boss of Coleman Construction, but there was something territorial about her voice. Not over the company, but over Theo.
* * *
As I take the short walk back to my apartment, it starts to drizzle. With no umbrella or jacket I’m forced to stand under the rain drops. Something that no longer bothers me after witnessing a critical drought for months. It almost feels cathartic to stand under the shower and to feel water flow so freely.
By the time I get home I’m soaking wet and wondering.
Why does it feel like I’ve just met Prince Charming before even having the chance to practice on a few frogs?