Layers(10)

On my own behalf, I’m not sure I should thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to waste my valuable time. I’m highly honored that I could be of help and contribute to Stark Software Technologies, Inc. I am hopeful Stark Software will make good use of my inspirational insights and that the esteemed Mrs. Greenich at Stark’s Software HR will implement my points in one way or another.

Now seriously, Daniel, I must admit that I find myself quite puzzled as to why you would like to meet me for coffee. Is there further humiliation on the menu?

Perplexed,

Hayley

I click send and my lips pull up, searching within myself for the cause of my sudden change of attitude toward Mr. Daniel Stark. An hour ago, I was ready to strangle the man, and now I’m smirking stupidly as I reply to his email.

Less than a minute after my reply, my iPhone pings and I can’t resist immediately checking my inbox. New unread mail from [email protected].



Dear Hayley,

You amused me, I want more, thus coffee. Tonight?

P.S—That rarely happens.

DS

I read the email three times. That, I did not expect. I’ve amused him. What does he mean by that rarely happens?



Dear Daniel,

I would hate to withhold further amusement from you. Thus coffee, tomorrow?

P.S What rarely happens?

Hayley

I sit by our kitchen counter, smiling to myself, wishing I could talk to Tasha, not exactly sure why I’m smiling like a goof. I should really get a grip; this is borderline pathetic.

At the familiar ringtone I reach for my phone. Could that be Tasha, replying to the cosmic messages I’ve been subconsciously sending her?

I don’t recognize the number; disappointment can be clearly heard in my voice when I answer. “Hello.”

“Hello, is this Hayley Grace?” A deep, masculine voice at the other end of the line inquires.

“This is she,” I answer, trying to search my memory for recognition of the voice without much luck.

“Hey Hayley, it’s Daniel.”

What? I find myself voiceless.

“Daniel Stark,” he adds to my silence, his voice lighter, noticeably amused. “Lost your words there again, Hayley?” he questions, and I breathe out a short giggle.

“Hello Daniel … Stark, how are you doing this afternoon?”

“Not bad, after an intriguing morning. And yourself?”

“Quite good, Mr. Stark.”

“Daniel,” he huffs. “Drop the Mr. Stark.” he adds, dryly. “So, tomorrow?” he continues, as if this isn’t weird at all, as though we always make plans to meet and as though he hadn’t put me through hell just a few hours ago.

“Tomorrow, Daniel,” I respond, unable to conceal the amusement in my voice as I do.

“How about coffee for breakfast? We can meet at the Starbucks next to your home.”

“How do you know where I live? Did you stalk me?” I frown at the phone. Really, Hales, you frown at phones now?

There is a vivid, low, throaty laugh on the line. “No, Hayley. I did not stalk you. Frankly, the idea is appealing, but I’m busy. You know how it is; you need to work hard to maintain an intriguing and professional organization …”

Jerk. I squirm in my chair.

“I have your CV, remember?”

“Yep, right. Forgot about that.” I chuckle. “What time suits you?”

“Nine would work for me.”

“Nine sounds good.”

There’s a voice in the background at his end. “Mr. Stark, the Thai minister of defense is on the line.”

Daniel replies, “Tell him that we’ll call him back.”

The Thai mister of defense, what the hell?

“So Hayley, what was I accused of so far? Being arrogant, condescending, and a stalker. Can’t wait to hear what else you’ll come up with before tomorrow. There’s a lot for me to live up to …” He chuckles. I join him.

“See you tomorrow at nine, Hayley Grace,” he says and hangs up.

Well, he does have to talk to the Thai minister of defense, I think, amused. Then it hits me: Daniel Stark just called me and we’re planning a breakfast date tomorrow at nine. Tasha, Ian, where are you guys when I so desperately need you?

Restless, I text Tasha, and as I get no prompt reply, I change to my running outfit: my knee length Nike leggings and a black spaghetti top. I adjust the headphones and turn on my mp3 player. I need cheerful tunes. I fast-forward past a few songs and halt at “Imitation of Life.” Set to go, I lock the door behind me. Boosted with adrenaline, I skip every other stair, eager to start my run, aiming to defuse the excess energy now caged within me.

~~~

Almost an hour, not bad. I praise myself, catching my breath while heading for a shower. Before reaching the bathroom, I step back to check whether by any chance Tasha called, but there’s only a text message.

Tasha: W R crashing @ my folks, went 2 sleep, C U 2MOR a.m., Hugs.

Sighing with disappointment, I head for the shower.

Still radiating warmth from my muscles and the soothing wash, and with nothing better to do, I snuggle in bed, indulging in the clean scent of freshly-washed linen. In the comfort of my cozy bed, I recycle the morning’s events and can’t help but yet again question the fact that I was so affected both physically and emotionally by this person. Finally, I doze off watching Conan tease yet another beautiful actress, or is it a model, or a reality flavor-of-the-month airhead?