... ... … WHEATHERNOTTOBLAME ... ... ...
"That lovely. Hot..."
"Sweating, actually," he corrected her reminiscing about the scene and him in particular.
"Ok. Lovely sweating and hot," she laughed.
Those images of each other the first time they met still lived vividly in their minds.
She was chilling, as she called it, going up and down in the elevator for a while already. Because back out to the hell of blazing heat under the sun that day would be a suicide. Still not daring for such a step...
So he happened to be a lucky passenger to willingly stuck with her and hiding in this nook for a little longer than his errands let him. She, on her behalf, found herself so naturally pouring her heart filled with internal issues out to this total stranger, what was an alien thing for her to do. Could blame the extremely high temperatures for affecting her brain and senses, if that hadn't been a single case since then and solely with him...
In very deed, with true respect he listened closely, comprehending and "staying tuned", yet couldn't but behold her fine figure, in high shorts and a loose cut t-shirt, leisurely melting the same like her soft speech as she was propping against the wall. It's a miracle he remembered their whole cute talking, because, no, he was smitten not only by the suffocating weather. To put it bluntly, it took all human willpower and his gentleman measures as he finally forced himself to leave her there in her refuge, and steel doors separated them for good. They both didn't want to believe in that...
And... was it a sign or a direction to follow, she though would have never known how to guess and use it herself, so call it destiny that two months after he appears to be a part, no, a constant, such a pleasant, if not to say delicious constant to her new spin of life. Whether she made a right decision recently, not burning bridges as once many years ago she's done, but exploring new waters is of no fear for her either - that's rather a cognitive need to advance, anyway, now he casually near to admire for the better half of the day and everyday is definitely a win.
"I thought you were a mirage. And that I'd never see you again," he confessed.
"I'm rare to meet, I know," she joked, not to relieve the tension, no. It never felt uncomfortable around him, on the opposite - so light it easily could suit for unprofessional.
"I'd even say you're unbelievable," a genuine remark, not less.
Be that somebody else, she'd display her disapproving reaction in the eye-rolling style "shut up and get lost, dude". But his candid ever and anon complimenting, or whatever it is, made her simply accept it. Period. Not a bit shying away bashfully, yet keep looking straight into his eyes. Mutely. But so telling. And maybe anticipating more. More than words. A prove. More sensual. With her skin. Causing her entire essence to pine like the day they met and since then... And once again - this time blame no weather for sure.