The Wrong Number

"Now that we're done with dinner, I have some questions for you," I said, determined to get something out of him.

"Wow, I guess tonight is going to be a Q&A session," he joked.

"Sort of. You know practically everything about me—even things my best friend doesn't—but I know nothing about you. I feel cheated."

"I suppose that's fair. I'll tell you things about myself—excluding my name and anything that might give away my identity."

I guess that's better than nothing. At least, after tonight, I'll feel a bit closer to him.

"So, Mister, this is an interview. Tell me about yourself," I said playfully.

He chuckled. "Well, I'm the simplest guy. I hardly get provoked and tolerate a lot. Really, I'm so easy to please—just give me good food and a good drink to go with it. I also have zero sense of direction. I can still get lost even in a neighborhood I've walked through ten times."

I burst into laughter. That sort of makes him a dimwit.

"That means you're not intelligent. You only have Naruto in your head," I teased.

"I am intelligent. Some even consider me a genius. But I have my flaws—I hardly remember numbers that are more than seven digits, and like I said, I have no sense of direction. I'm also an only son."

I felt like he wasn't going deep enough. Something was stopping him from being open with me.

"Is that all?"

"Pretty much. Well, I can tell you why I'm hardly provoked. I rarely feel things. To be provoked, I have to feel something—an attachment to someone—but I don't have those feelings at all. So, I live every day just to eat good food and drink good wine."

"It's good not to be easily provoked, but not having any attachment... that's bad. You won't truly be happy. Your smile will be forced, your happiness will be forced," I said, feeling sad for him. Even I, after having my heart broken, still wanted to feel love. Maybe I was already feeling it.

"You're right. Thank God for you."

"Why?"

"The attachment. Our conversations are pretty much the only thing I look forward to. With you, I smile. With you, I talk more in five minutes than I do in a whole week."

I jumped up and fist-bumped the air.

"Does that make me special?" I asked.

He giggled, and I could imagine him shaking his head.

"If you think I'll tell you that I giggle like a fool whenever I reread our conversations, or that I have a perfect memory of all our phone calls, or that I always try to picture how you look when you giggle and laugh, or that I'm always in a hurry to get on the phone with you..." He stopped.

My heart pounded so loudly that I could hear it in my eardrums.

"I think I'll leave that for another day," he added.

I gasped. Who does he think he is? Elevating a poor girl's heart only to drop it from an unimaginable height?

"You dimwit!" I hissed.

He laughed, making me join him.

I guess we had gotten closer. We continued our conversation as usual, and I told him about our new CEO and everything happening at work.

"So, you want to change positions? I thought you said you love being in the field," he asked.

"Well, Juvango is a subsidiary of Maris Hotel, and they pay—"