Kindled Hearts

8// Complement

Nicole craned her way towards the drab door, snugged in a warm canary turtleneck sweater and a skin pinching jean. Misted cold air danced before her and she saw the swirl of her breath, fitful and rapid, like the throb in her veins. She hated the feeling, such ferality shouldn't exist in a place of work especially when one's level is that of a mere janitress.

Outside, swaths of dark clouds billowed the sun to a hide, evidence of an impending rain. Nicole felt the need to rub her hands, wick some energy to not only her numb fingers but also to her failing heart. But on her hand laid a parchment, a revised version of the magazine, meticulously sewed through at ungodly hours of the night, quaint silence beckoning her eyes open. Probably the reason for the pallor in her complexion. Smears of blushes did nothing to fade the want on her skin nor the drain in her eyes.

Nicole dipped her chin at the young woman behind the oak desk. "Is Mr. Bajuu in? I'd like to submit a revised version of the magazine."

Why the sudden pulse?

The young woman, a fair skin with undoubted beauty, blow-dry hair held in a perfect coif, turned to Nicole. "Mr. Wayne Bajuu is held up in a meeting but he will be here any minute from now. You can drop it at his desk." The young woman pointed at a door to the left, edged at the cant of a wallboard with a splash of brown varnish preaching of its craftsmanship.

Nicole offered a simple nod and willed her legs towards Wayne's office. The first thing her eyes caught sight of, was the spectacle display of gowns and hewn pieces fitted onto mannequins, played in different tones of colour. Intricate seams and frills to the bosom. Curio. Exquisite. Nicole chanced a touch, raveling the feel of the fabrics under her fingertips. Smooth. Dainty. Just as she imagined.

"The colour suits your eyes."

Nicole's breath caught. She knew well of this voice, knew the flow of his timbre. Wayne Bajuu. Her cheeks glowed, fervor creeping at her neck she almost flinched.

Turquoise?

"Am afraid the gown will be laded." Nicole demurred a turn, opting to regard the turquoise piece. Was it a complement?

She heard his steps inch closer, then he stopped. It wasn't until he spoke that she felt the whiz of his breath tickling her ears, realizing how close he stood. Close enough  to trouble her heart. "On the contrary, the gown will play victim. Don't beat yourself."

Nicole's lips drew a smile. Genuine. He revered her worthy to the daintness stringed by the pristine fabric. It was a complement. Nicole's fingers caressed the fabric, running down along its seams.

"Careful there are_"

Nicole felt a sudden prick, so fast she almost didn't feel it, save for the ache biting at her finger tip. Behind her, she heard his sigh. "I should have warned you. There are a couple of pins attached to the gown. Am sorry."

Nicole glanced at her hand and saw a dot of blood. She felt his frantic shift, his meager hands perching on her shoulders as he guided her towards a plush seat that overlooked a huge marble desk. "Let me clean that for you."

She watched him, watched the hurtle in his steps, the slight tremor on his hands as he drew surgical spirit and cotton from a drawer. "It's nothing to worry about, just a prick nothing to want the need for care," said Nicole.

He reminded her of the netball match back at the prestigious light academy, attended by elite parents cheating of their true intentions and so was her father, adorned with an eye catching veneer. When a sudden banshee cry seeped through, Nicole amazed at her father's reaction to her sprained knee. The only time she saw concern etched on his brow instead of the usual taut he so much donned.

Wayne played heedless to her comment and slid next to her. "Your hand, please." Nicole noted the strain in his voice, imbued with something she couldn't quite put a name. A side of him she didn't know existed.

She first laid her quilled parchment onto the marble desk before stretching forth her right hand to him. He carefully dabbed the cotton at the pricked skin, running it smoothly around the outer areas.

Nicole sucked in a breath. The spirit did stung but not as much as his stare. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time he held her hand in his. It was as if he searched for something. Like the way a gold miner would  frantically dig for gold ores, barren of any despair. But what would Wayne be searching for? Obviously not precious metals.

Nicole craved an answer, raising her gaze to meet his already piercing brown orbs. Raw. A flame so bright, the muscles within her chest quivered, threatening to bare the rugged pulse of her heart.

Nicole regarded the tension on his jaw and wondered whether in him a war existed strong enough to stir his nerves. Wayne looked away.

Maybe not. He didn't feel the same way.

"I see you've completed your task." His voice had now grown terse.

Nicole drank her disappointment and offered a smile. "Yes I did, I'd love if you could look at it and share your thoughts."