A girl. A hot girl. A hot girl super model had just arrived onto his floor and was standing right next to him. She said something a second ago but it was hazy in Richard's fazzled mind. He rubbed his eyes and looked back. She was still there, rummaging through her purse. Was she a mirage? Just a beautiful illusion? Or did the tequila shots too effective at unknotting his mind? She was standing directly in front of the door right next to his. The fourth door. She pulled her hand from her purse.
"Sorry miss, I think you're on the wrong floor," Dick said, in an almost pleading tone.
"Um... No, don't think so," she replied, seeming oblivious or perhaps intentionally being ignorant to his desperate hands reached for the doorknob. He lunged forward and grabbed her hands and the doorknob, almost stumbling. She turned to him, surprised by his sudden and really clumsy move. He tilted his head up while his body slouched slightly. She was tall. Then he stopped. He had reached her eyes. They were a magnificent light green with dark little speckles in the irises.
"Excuse me." The words escaped her lips, it sounded so sweet. It took Richard a minute to realise he had to do something.
"Oh- Ahem. I don't think.. you're supposed to be here." He announced slowly and clearly. Could he be possibly hesitating?
She pulled her hand with the key out from under his and put in on top of his. She inched her face closer to his and smiled as she asked him,"And why not?"
"You can't stay here," he blurted out. "Cause, you see, I'm the only occupant on this floor."
"Well, that clears it then. I guess I'll have to pack my things and move to another apartment building then." Her voice was different now. It had a sugary tone to it. Richard felt quite put off by it. "Cause you're the only occupant on this floor." Her face might have been smiling but her eyes weren't.
"Well, what I mean to say is-"
"Not any more." She stated deftly. She rolled her eyes before she twisted the doorknob under his hands and pushed the door open.
With his hands still on hers and the doorknob, he pulled the door back to an almost close, as Kori stopped the door with her foot.
She turned back to him, her eyes looked like loaded guns ready to fire. Her hair seemed almost alive and angry. She angled her body to face his. He had her full attention. Her hand was still on the doorknob, under his, refusing to let go. Her other hand was now cocked on her hip as she glared down on him.
Why can't she just let go? Things would be so much easier if women just let go of the small things.
Who does this drunk asshole think he is? I paid good money for this place. It was a steal and I'm not going to give it up for the sake of feeding this guy's pride of being 'the only occupant on this floor'. Arrogant little... Well, let's see what this guy's got then.
His jaw was starting to tighten. He took a deep breath and calmly said, in his most practiced honest-sounding and gentlemanly tone, "I'm sorry i think we got off to a misunderstanding. You see, this floor has been reserved for me and only me. I've personally made arrangements with the manager of this fine settling. And as you can see, this floor is not very suitable for a beautiful young lady such as yourself. It would be better for your well-being as well as my conscious if you go somewhere else where you won't be so vulnerable. Somewhere cleaner, with better lighting and less odour. Another floor maybe. Somewhere where your place would just be yours and so that my place could just be mine." He used a finger to pull up her chin, and pulled a devilish smirk. Any second now, he was expecting her to blush or swoon or faint or bawl or stutter an apology or all of the above, as girls would usually do when he was near them. He, however, received a different result.
Her glare softened, but never left his eyes. Her face changed once more. She moved her free hand onto his under her chin and took a step forward, closing the gap between them, just grazing his body. They were roughly the same height, he if not an inch or two taller. Their hands were still overlapping each other on the doorknob. She put his hand back by his side and her fingers slid up his arm to behind his neck. She gazed at his face for a second as she leaned in. She gently pulled his face closer to hers, their cheeks almost making contact. She moved her lips close to his ear and whispered, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
She felt him give off a shiver. She couldn't hold back a smile as she went on,
"Try and recall what happened to you that led you to lose your first drink….."
He gulped.
He remembers now.
"If you think knocking a 300 pound guy off his feet and across the bar is all I can do, "she let out a warm breath of laughter that made his eyes go wide. "You don't even know how dead wrong you are. So I advise you shut your trap, pull up your zip and go back into your room and never come out. Cause if I ever see your face again, I'll be the only living occupant on this floor."
She stepped back. Picking his other hand off the doorknob and placing it back at his side while he stood still there, she opened the door. The door creaked slow and painfully and it stretched to open up. She kept the eye contact, her eyes trained on his face. She returned his smirk before walking into the room and shutting the door.
Click. The close of the door echoed in his mind as strongly as her perfumed stayed on him.
Dick was dumbfounded for a moment. To have someone talk to him like that. Nobody talked that way to Dick Grayson. Especially not any woman. He wasn't going to let her have the last word. He was about to say something and stepped in front of the similiarly wooden door next to his when her words rang in his mind, "if I ever see your face again, I'll be the only living occupant on this floor." He found himself gulping again and stepping aside, back to his door. He put his hands in his pockets and got his keys out, trying to fit them into the lock. However, he had a hard time as he found they were tingling too insanely to use them.
Dick Grayson: renowned millionaire player, notorious women swooner and heartbreaker, who usually couldn't walk down the street without getting mobbed by girls, a man who dazzled women with his smile; hypnotized them with this eyes, fooled them with his scripted honesty, pleased them with his pillow talk and twisted them around his small toe with his charming wit. This same man has just met a girl immune to him. She saw him at the bar, yet she did not come up to him. She noticed his drink got knocked out of his yet she didn't bother apologizing, or getting him another drink. She instead walked out of the building, not sending a single glance his way. She had his body pressed up against hers, something women around him could only fantasize about, yet she did not try to touch him inappropriately. He had his hand, heck, both hands on her, yet she did not respond. He was with her, alone, for over 5 minutes, and during their entire time together, she didn't ask for his number or offer hers. She did not faint nor gush. She did not scream. She did not cling on. Heck, she didn't even blush, once. He knew this feeling well enough, but had never, not once in his life, received it from a woman. The feeling of not being made a fuss off, being brushed off as if he was someone ordinary. It was strange.