It started when I met you

The first thing I noticed was his smile– bright, warm, a bit like the hot chocolate my mother would make for me on a rainy day. It was the kind of smile that draws people closer. It was the smile that could start a conversation. It was a smile that would make a feeble heart skip a beat or two. A feeble heart, much like mine. A heart so feeble that I couldn't admit it to myself, that his smile had got me to my knees.

The train cut through the forest. A strange, intoxicating, wild smell permeated the air. I knew this smell. I couldn't remember the where-when-how, but it was familiar to me. More like I was made familiar with it before. A man passed through the passage whistling something I had sung before. Was it all in my head? It was the magic of his smile, wasn't it?

I continued chatting with him as nothing was the matter. I was not shivering in a feverish frenzy watching his lips move, my mind was not filled with images that made me secretly blush, my throat was not dry thinking of how exquisite he might taste. I ignored how I was being giddy as a teen in my late twenties. I couldn't afford to show him my crazy.

My girlfriend busied herself with her phone. I ignored the meaningful, shameless smirk the two young girls gave me and looked at his face. He was of Chinese descent, almost as tall as me, muscular, athletic build. What did he just say? Was it about his cat, or his sister? Perhaps his sister's cat? I smiled and nodded feigning interest. I hated cats.

"What about this city?" he asked an elderly woman sitting across him. The train was slowing down near an old structure of a station, but I couldn't spot its name. Where the hell were we?

"This city used to be an interesting one when I was of your age." The lady reminisced, "It was one of the cities where the Europeans brought Christianity at the dawn of this century. You will find many old churches, architectural sites, cemeteries, I am sure it will be a great addition to your work." She looked at me.

"What do you think?" He looked at me suggestively, sending a rush of blood to my groins. I suddenly remembered that I was not alone in this group. Turning my head, I couldn't see my girlfriend anymore. She should be here, with me. She should be my shield to avoid disaster.

"I have to talk to my friends. Generally we decide the places together." Like a high school boy, I mumbled an excuse. "They are in the next city, probably waiting for us."

"You can always call them," he suggested. "It would be fun to try something new. Aren't you tired of doing it the same way over and over again?"

His words, uttered more like whispers, sent chills down my spine.

"I guess so!"

As it turned out, convincing Amy was not really a big deal. My girlfriend, the former beauty queen of her university and a social media influencer, led an active life. She was quite different from what I am, and after a relationship of eleven months I have come to terms with her lifestyle. She had already made some new friends on the train. A girl in her twenties, a man who looked like he was forcibly brought to the journey, an elderly man who looked a little too happy meeting Amy; her lack of concern about her boyfriend's whereabouts would have made me antsy, but at the moment I couldn't care less.

I breathed relief and focused on him again. And I remembered, we still hadn't exchanged each other's names. "My name is Arin," I extended my hand to be introduced officially.

"Max," he shook my hand and said. A jolt of electricity coursed through my veins. I tried to make the contact as short as possible, pulling my hand from his touch, but he grabbed my sweating, shivering hand tightly. Strangers don't shake hands like this, I told myself. It almost felt like an intimate act that should not be done publicly. It could be my imagination, but I saw him winking.

And the smile was back. The bright, warm, hot chocolate-like smile that melted me into a goo.

Rushing out the station with a backpack and a camera, I realised the station was not really crowded. The small station is surrounded by forest; a silver sliver of a water body caught my eyes. "It is a small place, not known to many."

I turned to face Max with a smile, "I think I might like it."

"You will like it. It's home, after all."

"Home?"

"Doesn't it feel like home? Where you come from, where your own people are? This place has been my home for as long as I can remember. Sorry, if I startled you," he grinned.

My home was not like this. It was a small apartment in a busy metropolis, where you couldn't see the difference between day and night.

"David, is that you?" The name, uttered by a female voice, rang into my head like an alarm. Who would know me here? An unfamiliar face, a pretty one stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. She was tall, slim, the kind of appearance that veiled someone's age, emotions, and everything that made them real. She was the kind of person who would attract me in many ways.

"No, you cannot be. My David would have been…" she lowered her face and smiled. "Sorry about that!"

I tried to follow her, took a step forward, and another. Suddenly I felt it again. The liquid electric flowing through my veins as a hand grabbed me.

"Hey, don't go!"

At that moment, I forgot everything else. I chose to follow the whisper.

"It was not a hotel, originally. A big family of seven lived here, until a fire killed almost all of them, leaving their youngest son. He built it again and rented it out. Those people couldn't survive for long. At first, their oldest son jumped out of the window, then their mother, followed by everybody else. For years people have tried to live here, but no one was able to. They say this house has a soul, and it doesn't allow anyone to own it in any way. Hence, it was turned into a hotel. Now people come to live here, but nobody owns it."

I stared hard at the man behind the reception.

"Relax my friend," the man flashed a thousand watt smile and added, "It was just a joke!" I continued staring at him, almost rudely. He was very tall, vaguely Asian features, and had a thick accent. His appearance, which I must say, was very attractive. Had it been me from a day ago, I would have ripped his shirt off to taste that flawless skin. What made me uncomfortable was his gaze. Intense, invasive, as if he knew things about me I didn't.

"Have I met you before?? I asked him, ignoring something he said about this town being a lonely one, and something else, something esoteric my mind couldn't decipher.

"Don't you remember me? I am heartbroken now, babe."

"Stop bothering him!" The stern voice belonged to Max. My heart started beating faster. Would it be too forward if I invited him to my room?

The man placed a key on the counter and said, "Maxim, you're scaring me. Here's the key you need." The next moment he winked at me, and suggestively smirked.

I didn't expect a keycard, but the key I got was something else. It was an ornate, eighteenth century artwork, a complicated floral design that holds an initial, M&A.

"Do you want to come with me?" I said nervously. I had never invited anyone to my room before; rather it was me who got invited. I felt like I was breaking a barrier around myself.

"To your room, you mean?"

"I can use a hand," I gestured towards the painfully light handbag lying by my feet. Did he get the hint, or was I required to be more direct? I made the call instantly and gazed at his lips. Gave him the look that had turned my past lovers and numerous one night stands into my slaves. I followed his neck, the slightly visible skin through his buttoned up shirt, his strong hinds, his fingers that looked rough and charmingly masculine.

I was craving for the man, but I hid that well. I had good practice.

"Am I making you uncomfortable? Well I can definitely go by myself, but a little company wouldn't be so bad."

My whisper did exactly what I intended it to do. Like a man under a charm he followed me. The irony made me chuckle. Did he know how I was charmed by his smile?