All the cars stopped and the green light had flared around the busy street of New York. Sandra held the steering wheel a little too hardly. Somewhere inside her was eating her up alive; she could feel her ribcages constricting. She didn’t know if it was because of the excitement of actually meeting Marla Grayson or because she felt like she was cheating on her. Sadly, she was feeling the latter. The night came to her like a fucking hurricane and she felt so bad she had to run right into the eye of it.
“Who was that?”
The moment she stepped into the car, the atmosphere that welcomed her was a waiting grave. She could see her girlfriend gripping the steering wheel a little too hardly that her knuckles were turning white. Her girlfriend was biting the inside of her own cheek and she knew whatever was about to come was definitely a storm.
Cate started tapping her nails against the steering wheel, the whole space was so quiet Sandra could even hear the beatings of her heart, “Who the fuck was that?” Cate asked again, pausing at every syllable she had spit.Â
“Just a colleague.”
“A colleague?” Cate looked at her, there was fire on her eyes and the brunette could feel the flames burning inside the car already, “He fucking kissed you!”
“On the cheek!” She didn’t know what occured to her, but Sandra turned to raise her voice; it was true, that man who kissed her on the cheek was just her colleague from the hospital, “Don’t you kiss your colleagues on the cheek?” Sandra spat as she shook her head, “As far as I know, you just don’t kiss them. You do even more.”
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“Drive. Drive the car.”
“What the –”
“Drive the fucking car, Catherine!”
The blonde was taken aback hearing the raised voice of her girlfriend. Cate looked at Sandra, who was already looking ahead; the blonde contemplated on what to say, yet she opted not to speak anymore. With a sigh, Cate started the car. The whole ride felt eerily uncomfortable. Cate knew her girlfriend had hit her right on the core and she wasn’t wrong. It was true she had done far worse things than a kiss on the cheek, but that was something she thought her girlfriend hadn’t known. Still, seeing her girlfriend from afar getting kissed on the cheek by a male was something that she did not anticipate and it burned her ego, made her stomach churn, and made her blood boil.
The car stopped as the green lights hit the pavement, “I’m jealous.” She didn’t mean to blurt it out, yet it did.
“And how do you think I feel?” Sandra’s eyes remained focused on the views ahead, her voice remained stoic as if numb, “How do you think I feel knowing you just don’t kiss the cheeks of your colleagues but fuck them too?”
And sometimes, stabs weren’t only made by knives. More often, stabs were made by words too. And right there, with that question, Cate felt how her blood gushed out of her system. She did not know what to say, what to react. All she knew was that her tears fell and she let go of the steering wheel.
“Don’t just cry there like a pathetic little kid. Because as far as I know, you weren’t crying when you were fucking your co-star.“
The beeping of the notification and the transition of green light to red pulled her away from her reveries. Marla Grayson. There was something enigmatic about the woman behind the profile Marla Grayson, but at the same time, Sandra was trying so hard to believe that she wasn’t just meeting Marla Geayson hoping it’s the real Rosamund Pike. That’s just foolish.
“Of course, it’s not her.” She made a u-turn before going on through another highway, “Why would Rosamund be on Tinder?”
Marla Grayson
Would you mind if I won’t meet you in the lobby?
I’ll give you my door pin instead.
Pin – 1022
Sandra read. A part of her wanted to foolishly reply and ask her if she’s the real Rosamund Pike, but she knew better. Within minutes, the brunette had arrived. Upon the brunette’s arrival at the hotel, she was immediately captivated by the sheer opulence and grandeur that it exuded. The luxurious displays of the hotel, from its elegant architecture to its refined furnishings, left Sandra in awe. She marveled at the intricate details and high-quality materials used throughout the premises, which contributed to an atmosphere of sophistication and indulgence. Whoever this certain Marla Grayson was, probably sleeps on a pile of money. She, too, had money. She was a well-established doctor and she made tons of money, yet the opulence that the hotel vomitted made her feel so cheap.
Shaking the thoughts away, she made her way towards the elevator. She already knew where Marla’s room was; the only challenge she had to go through was finding it. When she stepped into the elevator, she right away opened Tinder and messaged Marla about her arrival.
Marla Grayson
I’m about to shower.
Actually standing under the shower already.
So sorry I couldn’t open the door for you.
But please just get in here and make yourself feel at home.
SandOnTheBeach
Shower?
Hmm, are you preparing for something?
Marla Grayson
HAHA
Dunno but we’ll see.
SandOnTheBeach
What floor is your room again?
Marla Grayson
Versace on the floor : )
Sandra laughed. This woman.
SandOnTheBeach
HAHAHA jerk
But really…
What floor?
Marla Grayson
29th : )
See you in a bit.
Sandra put her phone back into her purse and just as she did, the elevator opened and came in a blonde woman, who literally shook the brunette’s entire being. It cannot be. Damn, is this really happening? Sandra could feel how her heart danced abnormally, as if it was trying to chase beat after beat. Fuck.
“Hi.” There flew that charming smile, and the brunette had to gather herself for that smile made her heart so heavy that she got so afraid her legs could not hold her anymore, “How’s your night going?” Shit. Did she just ask me? Did she just fucking ask me?
“Uhm.” Sandra wanted to smack herself as she knew she looked so foolish at the moment, “Hello. Night’s just about to start. Yours?”
In her white Chanel suit, Rosamund Pike gave her a smile. That kind of smile that could lit up unlit lights in the museum, that kind of smile that people only get to see on TV. Sandra wanted to ravel in the glory of the blonde’s smile, but here came the beeping of her phone. Fuck this.
“Night’s just ended.”
Sandra felt the continous beeping of her phone and she knew it’s Marla Grayson. But what should one do when the real Marla Grayson was in front of her, all flesh and bones?
“Nice dress. Suits you.” Dear heaveans, why did she have to fucking compliment me?
The brunette smiled, “Thanks.” She hoped the elevator would crash into some technicalities and that both of them would be stuck inside because who wouldn’t want that? That’s Rosamund Pike, her girl crush!, “Uhm, actually…” The adrenalime rushed through the insides of her veins and Sandra took all the courage in the world to face Rosamund, “…actually I’m not from here and I’m lost. Was actually looking for the bar.” Lie, but she hoped it would work.
Rosamund laughed before eyeing the pressed 29th button on the elevator, “Oh, darling. The bar isn’t on the 29th.” She laughed and Sandra just wanted to sit there, on the elevator’s floor, and then ask Rosamund to laugh at her, “It’s on the first floor. You’re totally lost.”
“Oh.”
“No worries. I can take you there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
And that was her way of saying fuck you Marla Grayson to whoever she was about to meet in room 202. The real Marla Grayson was in front of her, asking to accompany her to the bar, so why wouldn’t she accept?
***
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