Tetris in Red

06: Tetris in Anger

06: Tetris in Anger

Alec

What do you do when a woman decides to glare at you ever since she gets in your car? Well, you glare back because there's nothing else to do.

Too bad for me, though. Her glare is wicked. The kind that makes you feel like you did something wrong even though you didn't know what it is yet. It's that glare that you'll wish you'd just disappear on your seat.

My features soften when my lids start to ache from all the glaring. "Do you even blink?"

She rolls her eyes so hard; I swear her pupils almost roll back under her lids. "Of course, I blink. An average person blinks fifteen to twenty times per minute. If I don't, I'm probably blind by now."

The car grows still.

I do the only thing my reflex can do at that moment...

I blink at her. Thrice. Still staring at her, I poke my driver's shoulder. "Did I hear her right?"

Asia clears his throat. "I'm sorry, man."

Tetris arches her brow. "Seriously? Is this the part where I should call you out for subdued smart shaming?"

"What? No! It's not that! It's just..."

"Weird," Asia supplies for me.

"Yes. It's also very..."

"Unusual for you to know shit like that."

I nod solemnly, drawing a cross on my right chest. "No smart shaming here."

"Thanks, man."

"You're welcome."

Tetris turns her back on us and grits her teeth, muttering something along the lines of the word 'weird' and 'unusual' being synonymous with each other. She's hot and cold throughout the ride. One moment she's glaring at me and arguing about something I say. The next, she'll go silent and glare out the window, pretending Asia and I don't exist.

She's like a teenager who didn't get what she wanted.

Funny how true the last part is.

The woman is intriguing. She's acting like I owe her something instead of her owing something to me. The subject hasn't come up yet. And I refuse to broach that line until we reach our destination. I have this feeling that if I do, Tetris won't hesitate to run out of the car while it's moving. Twisted ankle be damned.

"Here we are," Asia announces as we pull to a stop on the underground garage. I step out as he helps a scowling Tetris out of the car.

"Tetris—" I start but she cut me off.

"Rhys, please."

I look at her and see something in her eyes, expectancy, for what I'm not sure. So I give her my most charming smile that always makes the crowd go wild. "Rhys."

Apparently, that failed.

Tetris walks—limps—past me like she'd been here more times than I did. Asia pats my shoulder as we watch her stand near the elevator, whilst tapping her good foot. "She's grumpier than my grandma. Good luck with that."

I snort because I can't agree more.

Rhys

"Where are we?" I ask as we step foot on the elevator bank.

He taps the fifteenth-floor button. "My agency."

I chew on my bottom lip as my stomach cramps from hunger. My mouth is dry from lack of food. I didn't think of having breakfast when I packed my things this morning. Because come on, who would've thought Alec MacSweeny would show up at your door at eight am in the morning?

"You have bangs. And it's cut an inch above your eyebrow."

"Half an inch."

He chuckles and wipes his face with his palm as if he doesn't know what to do with me. Same here, dude, same here. "Okay, half an inch. It goes well with your short bob."

My face turns to him as his compliment registers in my mind. I haven't properly look at him until now. I'm too busy thinking of my situation and the worst-case scenarios that will come later.

He matured a lot since the last time I saw him. Suffice to say, he isn't a boy anymore. He's bigger, taller, manlier.

Alec MacSweeny studies my hair with his deep set of stormy gray eyes. His plump lips are puckered as if he's trying to figure something out. He has a straight nose, a heavily sculpted jaw that's covered with a day worth of dark stubble. His muddy brown hair is unruly, as if he can't care less to style it, yet it adds pleasantly to his rugged appearance.

He's wearing a V-neck shirt under his leather jacket. A large tattoo peeks above his shirt's neckline and I'm reminded yet again that I'm in an elevator with a famous rock star.

I look away. "You looked... well."

He snickers, again. "I meant what I said. You don't need to return them with forced flattery."

"Because you hear them rather freely every day?" I can't help but snap.

He looks at me for a moment, before the right corner of his mouth lifts with a small smile. "I just thought giving compliments isn't your style... I guess." He sighs. I hate that I can hear the defeat in it, that he's done arguing with me. I don't want him to be done arguing with me. I want to argue a little more. "I feel like everything I'd say is going to fuck this up."

Guilt flows like a flash flood in my veins. It's like it's sealed for so long in my consciousness but when he uttered those words, it has overflown and flooded my system. I've done nothing but barked at him since earlier, but in my defense, I couldn't help it. I haven't slept, I'm hungry and my ankle is throbbing so badly. Apparently, admitting I'm wrong isn't my style as well. I change the topic.

"How did you find me?"

That seems to dissolve the tension in the room. His smile is secretive. "Free signed shirt and album could do that."

I roll my eyes for the nth time. "So that's why the receptionist was looking at me weirdly. For a moment there, I thought she was gay."

He tilts his head, his eyes showing a hint of an impending smile. "Are you into women?"

I smirk. "Maybe I am." My voice lowers, eyes tracking the sudden bob on his throat. "Maybe you found me that night in your room, looking for panties."

The blood drains from his face as he freezes. I mastered the art of keeping my face as it was as I lie. It's something that comes naturally when you're an artist who's starting from scratch in Los Angeles and wanting to make it.

But when I thought I'm getting to him, Alec shakes his head and sighs. "Good one. Unfortunately for you, we have something to counter that."

Before I can answer, the door slides open.

And the chicken man that's sitting on a throne-like chair with a cigar on his mouth comes into view.

"Well, well, well."