Page 41 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

I don’t know what to answer him. In fact, I don’t know how to respond to a man like him.

I suppose men were acting so impulsive. I’ve seen men begged but they begged for their lives to be spared from shame, to save their image, fortune and reputation, dropped onto their knees or bashed their knuckles on the wall—one can’t prolonged the silence pressed in.

I’ve seen women walking away to these kinds of incident when men liked to cause a scene, sometimes their doting mothers were set sights on scolding young women and drag them to the dirt—tarnished for eternity.

But the knowledge I’ve obtained, the right choice was to stay silent and walk away, pretending men don’t exist, as if men are an ancient species due to their downfall. And no mothers were showing up. I cannot share the same input for the fathers.

Friendships were another story to tell.

My whole life was known for flight, never responded.

And I always cried alone, like I always do.

Even if I did explain, what would that prove?

Only getting beaten and berated, my words, the way I offended someone—often backfired, forcing to bend my knees and beg for forgiveness.

When they asked for me to be gentle, and when I do it, it’s also wrong. To them, everything was wrong.

Everything wasn’t decent enough to pass the flying colors.

Offended and displeased.

Why do I get the feeling he was main objective was trying to talk to me?

I’m not acquainted or familiar his intentions, his methods, his way of expression.

His friends might’ve known his ways, so it’s possible.

Or his blood relations might’ve compiled on his true demeanor.

But I wouldn’t be certain if Adrian has friends or his blood relations, if passing onto the vast side of his world, a possibility will set in stone.

It’s all but bizarre to me. In the strangest way possible held at this moment, in this hustled hour.

The ticking clock by the wall wasn’t any of great assistance, like a sound of my fainted pulse beating.

Heart pounded into my ears, dulled and blocked from a chill wind, unable to draw a reply but a soundless air freed from my lips.

“Answer me,” he begged, his gloved hands flattened, not letting me go.

Trapped in between the cage—his cage. Pitch-black eyes locked onto mine, despite my sheepish gaze, rather intensely, his concentration hazed, waiting, for as long as he took whatever to spill things out from me.

The bronze and semi-large tattered and scratched sacred cross was on top of me, Jesus watched, his soul from a million years ago, was spectating the shared interactions between me and Adrian, spectating the modern social interactions between man and woman.

Maybe if I ask him on knowing the future predictions, to avoid the confrontation, maybe it would save time and scars.

The cross above me was relying itself as a decoration, no interference.

I gulped once more. “I have nothing to say.”

My eyes reverted back to the ground, his expensive shoes. It didn’t help as I averted. The perfume loitered into my nose, the strong, elegant scent from his expensive coat.

He scrutinized at me strangely as if I was a strangest of them all.

“Nothing?”

“No, sir,” I found myself speaking again, devoid of stutter.

“Was it something I said?” he guessed, clenching his jaw.

“No.”

“Was it something I did?”

He was persistent.

“No.”

My breath drew deeper.

“Was it the people around me?”

He was losing his composure.

My gaze lowered. “No.”

Bitter tears nearly formed in my eyes, not liking the space, the humid air, enclosure on me.

“Then what is it?” The bitterness left in his tongue as he articulated. “Tell me what it is.”

I hated people who are persistent. Usually they never cornered me—some tried to, but they screamed once I scurried, but never reaching to a point where someone imprisoned me—quick to action. Until now.

I gulped again, unknown for my next words. Each time I opened my mouth, I couldn’t register to annunciate the sound.

I couldn’t tell him.

I couldn’t.

For what, I don’t know.

I don’t know how.

His eyes, I can’t stop gazing, dazed at the temptation—beautiful and deadly—a beguiling temptation seizing one’s heart to act and condone the misdeeds, like a fruit abiding for one’s forbidden taste.

And I was drowning into the abyss.

Hauled my conscious, invasive thoughts clouded, I met his gaze—longer and pronounced, I was braver than last.

“Tell me,” he murmured; almost sounding like a plea, a beguiling voice guided me within a lost haze in his maze.

The concept, the way he phrased it was inviting and…foreign, a source of encouragement in a way. Train of thought rushed in my head in brisk pace, heating up twice as fast, consider on explaining things without his short temper running hot and his tone cold.

Not cold—wrong choice of words—perhaps in a layered cold tone, it layered and placed in a more…indescribable feeling escaped.

I averted my gaze for a second, contemplating. “I must’ve been an embarrassment, aren’t I?”

He veered at me, clueless. “What are you talking about?”

“At the party, when you told me to go, I hesitated, because of…Miss Curtis.” Then correcting myself. “Emily, I mean.”

His brows knitted. “What about her?”

My heart thundered. I paused, gathering my courage, which I hesitated and held back before and on the previous attempts I had, causing to shut my mind off with guilt after being told off, shoving these intrusiveness and switch it off.

But the worst he could say is ‘no’ or refused to listen at my reasoning.

I’ve gone off spiraling again, it happened in many occasions to where I can’t find myself to be in control less than a minute.

Emily’s words resounded against my better judgement. Dread seeped in as I conjured back to the night before.

“But you don’t belong here, not in my world, and not in his world.

God, you look so pathetic, are you becoming a ghost or a zombie?

Are you here to confess your sins or are you trying to get into my way?

You fucking irritate me. Wherever I go, don’t follow.

Don’t try to talk to me, don’t try to convince me to be friends with you because I don’t see you as a friend, I see you as a slave to God’s work. ”

Tingling press from her hand shoved me on the bosom, then my shoulder blade again.

And again, and again, each time her mouth opened.

“I would never be friends with someone like you; you’re too disgusting to be around.

Even if you’re the last person on Earth, I’d rather eat shit than talking to you.

Adrian doesn’t want to say this, but he doesn’t want you here, either.

I know what he wants, and I know that he doesn’t plan on being friends with a dumb virgin like you.

He brought you here because he felt sorry for you, but seeing this…

I don’t think he’ll ever invite you again.

Not in a million years. So I suggest you turn around and don’t come back.

So fuck off! You belong in the basement.

Let’s face it, Eva, nobody likes you. Since nobody wants to say it, I have to.

I have to be the hero. I have to be the good guy. ”

My lips opened and closed weakly, hesitantly as Adrian eyed on me closely. A little too close.

Flustered, I said, “Sir, I don’t think I should—”

His face inched closer to me. “Tell me.”

I hesitated, my lips sealed, rotated my head on the left; Adrian gently clasped my chin, turning back onto his hues.

He sighed, a little calmer, gaze softened. “I won’t ruin your job; I won’t drag you on the spot, either. I’d be a jerk if I do that.”

In silence, I watched his contorted expression, struggling to find right terms.

“Let me go,” I pleaded, shuddered. “I swear I won’t cause trouble.”

“You can trust me,” he said. “Your words are safe with me.”

Nervous, I kept myself intact. “You…promise?”

“Yes, I swear to Go—” he paused. “I swear. There’s no reason to be in fear.”

I hesitated, carefully choosing my next words. “After you were heading back to your friends, while I waited, she gave a few words. She said that—”

Adrian waited. “Tell me,” he encouraged again, eyes sparkling.

“She said I don’t belong anywhere, that no matter how many attempts I tried to make, I’ll never be part of your life, because I’m too rigid.

” My lip quivered. “She told me you felt sorry you had to invite me and changed your mind when you saw me. She knew what girls you like. With my nun attire, she said that I might also be rigid…in…”

“In?”

I swallowed and locked—tucked the fear in deeper.

“In,” I said, leaning inward to whisper, “the bed.”

To my shock, Adrian guffawed. Not so loud it causes disruption inside the building, or disrupts the church staff—every single one is already outside—but sufficient for my ears to hear.

“She’s a funny girl, isn’t she,” he concluded, his light-blond locks cascaded as his head inclined lower, shutting his eyes.

“Funny?” I said, bothered with doubt.

He scoffed. “As if she knows me,” he articulated, finding it ridiculous.

I wasn’t sure what to react to his statement.

My eyes squinted. “How do you know?”

“Because she’s jealous. I’ve seen girls spoke and have attitude like that towards each other.”

I frowned, doubting him for a second.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, eyes widened at my formed expression. “In fact, you did nothing wrong. God, she shouldn’t have done that. Did she hurt you?”

She did hurt me , I thought.

My lips pressed together, pausing. It wasn’t the right moment, not at an important charity. “Is she always like this?”

I never knew Emily as much as I would like to consider.