You're just a woman

Myla is searching for a way to talk to Jamal. She doesn't want others getting suspects about her closeness towards someone's fiancé.

Patricia is trying to tell her how this ceremonial game is organized but she isn't listening to a single word.

"Myla?"

"Uh?" she answers absentmindedly.

Patricia has noticed her friend's worry. Her eyes are always turning around, like she's in search of something urgently.

"Who or what are you looking for?"

Myla brings her gaze to the white girl, blankly "N—nothing"

Patricia shakes her head "You can't say nothing when your eyes keep moving circles"

She blinks her eyes and Jamal passes right in front of them with his fiancée next to him like his driving license.

Myla diverts her focus at the couple parading away and Patricia follows her gaze with a smirk drawing over her pretty face.

"So, he is what you have been searching for"

Myla is speechless. She can't tell her friend how attracted she is to her brother though that's not the reason she's looking for him.

Patricia is still smiling and Myla doesn't understand why this is amusing to her.

"Give me a sec. I'd be right back" Myla leaves the girl and walks towards the opposite side Jamal went, all these so that she doesn't prove his sister right about scanning for him.

Once she's somewhere alone, she exhales heavily. She must meet Jamal now or never. Because once the game starts, she won't be able communicate with him.

...

"I forgot something. Wait for me here" Jamal tells Latif

"What's that? Let me go take it for you"

"No. Don't worry. I'd find it" He insists and makes a pivot turn.

He meets his sister on the couch, seated alone but Myla is not by her side. He came back to return her purse because he knows after this moment, he won't have time to give her.

Patricia notices her brother staring in her direction so she responds, "She went this way" her hands poking over her shoulder.

He frowns. How did she know he was looking for her? He tries not to understand further as she walks in the direction she directed.

...

Myla has finished taking air and strategizing on how to meet that arrogant man. She arranges her cloths and walks away, bending a corner and posting out in the corridor. But Jamal comes in the same direction. She heads his crest almost knocking her down.

He holds her steady, his hand snaked her waist to pull her over him. She becomes icy. Her hand is against his crane while the other holds unto his bicep.

She can feel his muscles against her soft skin; blood rushing through his veins; his heartbeat; his Greece scent; the shampoo he used for his hair blowing in the air, and feeling her pharynx and opening her skin pores.

She can feel him over his pants—ok . . . this is awkward. She fumbles, getting off his grasp.

Last night, he almost made her a ghost. This morning he almost gave her a heart attack and now, he's making her melt her cheeks out. She bellows as her dark face turns into red cherries, trying to flush out the burns.

He clears his throat, hands shoving into his pants as he stares down at her cringing. It pleases him to see her this flushed.

She stammers "W-what are you doing here?"

"W-why can't you speak properly?"

She blinks her eyes and he mimics.

"Stop it" she yells, her voice coming out like a little toddler.

He giggles and it only makes her annoyed. She gestures to walk pass him but he grips her arm.

"Where you looking for me in the wrong direction?"

She remembers that she needs to have her purse back. She hangs her head, staring into his golden orbits; they now glitter as the sun reflects.

She pulls back, his hand unlatching hers. She doesn't admit that she has been searching for him because she hates making him think he's always right. How can someone be so predictive of her secret doings than her?

"Talking about that; I need my purse"

He smirks, his eyes tugging towards his head and dimples becoming very visible. He's so handsome that no matter the number of times is looked at by women they never get tired.

Myla is the type of woman who gets tired of everything, especially if she sees it for more than 24 hours.

However, that habit, doesn't work on Jamal. She can't get enough of his beauty. Even with his provoking character, that type that brings out the worse of her and makes her stay away from people like him. She's always able to control herself before anyone no matter how nagging they are.

With Jamal, everything is open. Like watching fables, so he can read her perfectly well. She can't hide anything from him even if he doesn't want to know.

"Finally you're acknowledging your mistake"

"Whatever" she says. An attitude when she doesn't want to argue or admit something "I need my purse" she repeats

"You can't just stand here and ask for your bag like you gave it to me. I picked it up from the cold. It was abandoned"

"This is not funny Jamal. I—I need to call my friends"

He cocks his head, pretending to reflect "I should have known those where your friends calling. So I could tell them that you don't care for them anymore"

She makes a step towards him, her face wounded like a lioness. "I'm not going to repeat myself"

He feigns then chortles "You're so cute when you do this"

It takes her uncalled. You're so cute when you do this

She blushes shifting back and composing herself "Please . . . I really need to call my friends and I have other things in there—that I need"

His smile widens and she doesn't look at him because it'd only provoke her to redden.

He takes out the purse from his pocket and forwards it to her. She finally meets his gaze, his smile still plastered on his face and even more breath taking.

She blinks a number of times, trying to shove away her drowning emotions. She brings her hand to collect and he shifts it back, her hand hanging.

She retries and he pulls his hand towards him. She sighs staring at him. He lifts his brow "Common"

She send pelts her hand but he raises it above his head. She decides to blow his abs and he fakes a groan, his hand coming down in the process.

She tiptoes and snatches it from him. But he doesn't remove his hand. Her brows crumble as she exerts pressure to tug it out while he is barely putting in any force.

He chuckles and leaves it for her. For the second time she almost stumbles back but he holds her, their proximity even closer than before.

What the F! Is this an Indian drama?

At least, for the first time, they are true to . . . an extent.

"You're just a woman. Not more"

"Are you competing with women or something?"

He shrugs "No. I'm just putting them where they supposed to be. To stop acting so bossy"

His grip on her tightens and she shivers, her eyes closing.

He takes this moment to stare at her features. Her dark brown orbits, small lips, small nose, small square head, thick but short eyelashes. Her eyes quivering close because of the force she's exerting on them in other not to look at him. His lips tug up into a smile, a sight of admiration.

"Jamal?!" Latif comes from a distance over his shoulder and he loosens his grip from the lady.

Myla's eyes grow wide as she sees her rival come to a stop at her feet, her eyes darting between the two individuals, still recovering from an explicit interval. Jamal is very composed and his breath is normal.

To be continued...