UNUSUAL VOCAB
wena – (noun) you

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⌞C H E S T E R⌝
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⌞♠⌝ Our desserts came and went, but nothing was sweeter than our conversation. We finished our meals near the restaurant's closing hour. I handled the bill, and then we made our way out. Mr. Dube eyed me as we walked past the restaurant's reception and amused me with a quick nod of approval and a valedictory wave of the hand. I bowed slightly in his direction, then proceeded to hold my belle's hand as we sauntered to the hotel's entrance.

"So," I began, "It's probably going to take around fifteen minutes for your lift to arrive. How about I give you a ride back to your room?"

"Um, sure. The thing is, I don't know how to get there," she admitted with a shy neck rub.

I lifted my brow and shrugged. "That's no problem. What kind of room is it? I have been here so many business matters that I know where everything is."

"Oh, okay. It's the platinum suite."

Her eyes still avoided mine as she spoke. She was enveloped in a self-hug and was stroking her arms. We were burning like meat on a grill by the open entrance, so I knew her being chilly was out of the question.

This led me to inquire: "Is something on your mind, Mindy?"

"Um, it's nothing." Her self-massage ceased as her beautiful eyes looked my way with an adorable smile. "I just wanted to say thank you for the dinner. And I had fun."

A wash of relief flowed through my body as contentment settled in my chest, and I replied, "You're very welcome, my lady. And I had a great time myself."

A second later, my car was pulled up by a valet. I thanked the young man and then found Mindelyn frozen on the spot with wide eyes. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. I traced her gaze to my vehicle.

At first, I was confused by her nonplussed state, but then it registered when she finally stuttered, "I-is that your ca-car?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at my simple black Rolls Royce. For me, there wasn't much to it to gawk at, but, judging by her reaction, this was probably an out-of-this-world experience.

A smirk danced on my lips as I strolled to the vehicle. I swung open the front passenger's door, glanced at the dazed lady in red, and asked with a playful lilt, "Shall we go?"

It took a minute for her to mobilize herself, but she eventually got into the car. I closed her door, got into my driver's seat, and then took off into the night. On the way, some signs were directing us where to go, but I barely paid them any notice. I knew exactly where I was headed.

Our ride was rather quiet. I wanted to speak to her but stopped myself when I caught her subtle fidgeting and lip-biting. This led me to turn on the radio instead. A few seconds in, her nerves appeared to have simmered down as she began swaying her head to some pop song the station had on.

I let her have some peace. Like my grandma always told me, sometimes silence is a blissful necessity.

Mindy seemed to appreciate it too, because when we arrived, she had stopped her anxious habits and exuded a sense of calm and poise.

Pulling up into a parking spot, I killed the engine and glanced her way. The night's full moon had cast an otherworldly white glow on her, making her skin sparkle like God had inserted a speck of diamond in each cell of hers. Her gaze fixed on the starry sky; my focus drifted to her glossy pert lips.

Strange as it seemed for someone who despised saliva, I found myself oddly drawn to the idea of tasting her.

This might come as a shock to some, but it's the unadulterated truth. Yours truly, Chess Nel has always had his reasons for steering clear of certain intimate encounters, particularly ones involving lip-locking. While I was usually fine with other forms of connection, the mere thought of connecting lips tended to turn my joystick off faster than you can say 'game over.' However, her magnetic pull had been tugging at me all night, and I was teetering dangerously close to the edge of my self-imposed kissing ban.

So, sexing her up is the next step. I was sure she would be okay with that since we held hands multiple times earlier. Now, all I need to approach her carefully.

Just as I was about to make my move, her lips parted, and she called me, "Chess?"

"Yes, what is it?" I said, inching closer to her. Caution was key when it came to handling her. I didn't want to freak her out.

"Now that there's no one around. Could I say something?" Her melodious voice was like that of a siren in Greek mythology, she drew me in.

My heart was racing now. I had been yearning for her all night and was a few moments from getting her. "Sure, tell me whatever you want."

She turned to face me and said something I didn't expect to hear. "So, about the staredown thing, I'm not giving you anything more than a day."

Firmness and confidence came from her as she spoke. I found it very sexy, and it made me feel a certain pleasure. However, I was too overwhelmed with confusion by her statement to luxuriate in it.

I stopped in my tracks with an open mouth. It was as if someone had slapped me across the face and kicked me in the balls at the same time. Blinking like a fish out of water, I slumped back into my seat and backtracked for a moment, trying to see where this randomness came from. It later clicked that it was part of the first conversation at the restaurant.

Honestly, I didn't want to engage in the topic. However, it would be better if I went with her flow for a bit. So, I surrendered, mentally cursed the heavens, and sat there with my nearing blue balls.

A sigh escaped me as I asked, "Okay, how about exactly 24 hours then?"

She sealed the deal with a nod and a pleased, "Fine, that works."

"To keep the playing field fair, how about you decide the rules?" I told her.

"Hmm, fine. Let's see..." She trailed off, deep in thought, and then started speaking: "Blinking is allowed, but it can't last for more than a few split seconds. No reactions, or you will be disqualified, and no funny faces are permitted."

"This sounds biased. What if I naturally have a peculiar face?" I defended a nonexistent problem. My face was far from odd, but it was fun to squabble with her from time to time.

She monotoned, "That sounds like you and God's problem."

That provoked a smile to spread across my lips. "Fine, let's do this. Be prepared to wait on my every whim."

"Whatever." She took her big brown eyes for a stroll to the back of her head and back and then looked me straight. "Now bring it on!"

The staredown had officially begun. In one corner, we had our beautiful goddess with gorgeous eyes and a harmonious voice that would enchant a hundred men, while in the other corner, we had her equally handsome prince charming with a dangerous tongue and one hell of a sword. The competition was fierce in this ring; two full minutes had already passed, and no one was backing down. At one second, the enchantress sniffled a possible sneeze. But -- like the true champ she was -- she held it in.

However, little did we, the competitors, know that an obstacle was soon approaching.

A security guard came knocking on her side of the car. His light tapping quickly turned into a measured banging. I yelled at him to give us a few minutes without breaking eye contact. However, on the contrary, my dear foreign beauty snapped her head his way and hurried to open the window.

"Sorry, officer. We were just talking," she warbled in a panicked tone.

He watched her for a bit. Noticing my slight shuffle, his narrowed eyes fell on me, and then he said, "Ey! Wena!"

"Me?" I pointed at myself, and he nodded.

"Yes, you! I know you, youngsters. No funny business in the parking lot; take it to your room!" the guard barked, staring us down.

I assured him that wasn't what was happening. He wasn't convinced at all but eventually got back to his vehicle and drove away.

We both sighed and giggled among ourselves for a bit. However, when she turned back to face me, I had the biggest victorious grin, and it was then she knew that she had fucked up.

"No! Wait!" she screeched a little too loudly.

I winced at her piercing shriek, and her whole body cringed into a ball of shame. Rubbing my ears, I just laughed it off, then reassured her, "Mindy, it's okay. I can still hear. You didn't blow out my eardrums, but you were pretty close."

Feeling less embarrassed, she uncurled her body and tried to explain herself. "I'm sorry for screaming like that, and about me breaking from our staredown, it's rude in my culture to not look people in the eyes when you address something to them, especially the authorities!"

"Eish! Sorry, sweetheart, but that sounds like a 'you' problem," I clarified, leaning into her side. She pressed her back to the seat for her dear life. However, she need not worry; I wasn't going to do anything she wasn't ready for. "So, concerning more important matters, what day do you want to be my loyal servant?"

Hand on my chest, she gently pushed me back into my seat, stating, "Any day except Friday. I've got plans."

It bothered me that I had a long way to go before I was allowed in her personal space. Well, the kind of personal space that involved activities that required a little more calories than handholding. I let out a sigh before speaking up, "No problem. Friday doesn't look too good for me either. So, how about Saturday from noon to midday Sunday?"

"Okay.  And?" she prompted.

My brows rose. "And... what?"

Mindelyn shot me a pointed look, waiting for me to say more. "Do you expect me to sleep on the floor or upside down like some bat?" she quipped.

"Wait, we are sleeping on Saturday?" I asked, partly as a tease and partly with a tinge of disappointment. That rhetorical question earned my first playful slap on the arm from Mindelyn, and I couldn't help but chuckle before reassuring her, "Don't worry, my lady. I'll set you up in one of the guest rooms."

She adjusted herself in the seat. "I suppose that can work."

"Good," I affirmed.

As the victor of our game, I had three questions to ask, and she had to answer them truthfully. I pondered a bit, carefully picking which inquiries were most interesting but not perverse.

When I felt satisfied with my selection, I made it known. "Now here's my first question."

"Okay." Worry coated her voice as the word left her mouth.

I crossed my legs and asked, "Why did you avoid eye contact with me when you first arrived?"

"Seriously? You're still hung up on that? What happened to 'What do you do for a living?' and, you know, the typical first date questions?"

"Do you want a fun evening or an interview?" I deadpanned with a lifted brow.

"Pass," she murmured, playing with the hem of the dress. "Plus, it's embarrassing."

"It's a judgment-free zone. Just say what's on your mind."

She looked at me with sparkly eyes. "Are you sure that you won't?"

I crossed my heart. "You have my word."

She dropped her head onto her lap, mumbling, "Words. Words. How should I say this?"

"With your mouth, preferably," I stated, securing her disapproving glare. Now I was invested in getting the information out of her. "Seriously, just say what's on your mind, word for word."

"Fine... You're too hot..." She mumbled.

If she had been an octave lower, I would've never heard her. However, I enjoyed pushing her more than I could admit. So, I played dumb, just to rile her up a little further. "Sorry, what was that?" I asked innocently.

"This is so embarrassing," she muttered.

"What's embarrassing? Speaking?"

"What? No! Wait, give me a second!" She stumbled over her words before blurting out, "Oh, Jesus, fuck me."

"Fuck you? Oh, my lady, your wish is my command," I teased, lowering my voice while loosening my tie.

"What? No!" she yelped, eyes widening as I tossed the accessory to the backseat and began unbuttoning my shirt. I had barely started when her hands shot out to stop me. Flustered, she spluttered, "Jesus, Chess! Keep your shirt on!"

Her hands clutched onto mine as if her life depended on it, tickling a small chuckle out of me. "Oh, how rude of me," I smirked, planting a kiss on her pink knuckles. "Did you want to undress me yourself?"

"No! That's not it." She bit her lip, suppressing something I couldn't decipher. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"You know exactly why I struggle to look at you. There's no point in saying it."

"No, I don't," I lied, a sly smile still playing on my lips. "So, please, enlighten me, Mindy."

With an eye roll and a hiss, she finally snapped, "You want me to fess up that I resisted looking at you because you're so infuriatingly hot that I feared I'd burn my eyes if I stared for too long? For goodness sake, screw your sadistic ego!"

Her choice of words sent me into a cackling fit. Her eyes grew wide in horror as her other hand covered her mouth. "Hey! You promised you wouldn't judge! I warned you some things sounded better in my head."

I managed to control myself and then commented, "It's fine. It's good to know that I have a different effect from Medusa."

"For the love of God, next question, please," she begged, avoiding eye contact, and shifting herself to the furthest corner of her seat.

She is a pro at that. Seriously, someone please give her a medal.

To cool off some steam, I decided to be nicer with my next question. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?" I had a strong hunch I already knew the answer to this question. However, I wanted to hear her thoughts.

"Paris. I want to see the various art museums."

With her infatuation with K-pop, I was stunned when she didn't say South Korea. However, her fascination with fine art brought me back to reality. "You like fine art?"

"Yeah, I paint and sketch a lot." She scrunched her dress's hem, adding, "My main medium is watercolor. It's very therapeutic for me."

I was happy she found a coping mechanism that eased her apprehension. Surprisingly, that was something many people didn't know how to do, and my mother was one of them.

On top of that, I had something to share. "That's actually kind of funny because I am a painter myself."

"Woah, despite coming from different continents, we are more similar than I thought," she promulgated.

"Yeah, apparently, we are," I thought aloud, extending my seat and stretching myself to get more comfortable. "However, it's something I do more for leisure than anything else, and I'm more of a mixed media and acrylics kind of man."

She sprung up from her seat. "Could I, maybe, see your work someday?"

I had never shown my work to anyone besides my parents, grandmother, and some close friends. It was a very sentimental thing for me. Yet, my mouth worked faster than my brain at times, and before I realized it, I had invited her to my sacred sanctuary. "Yeah, of course. You should come to my studio, and I'll show you some pieces."

"You have a whole studio?" I gave her a nod of confirmation, and then she whispered, "Wow, Chess, you're kind of cool."

"Yeah, I know," I mumbled to myself. I wasn't too sure if she had heard me, but it didn't matter.

I reclined my seat even more to escape the moonlight for a bit. Fatigue was pulling at my eyelids, so I momentarily shut my eyes. The whole day replayed in my head like an old film. From the morning fiasco with Jacqueline to meeting Johan's and my demonic cousins, it had been so frustratingly hectic and blood-boiling that I had gotten a migraine. However, it suddenly disappeared when I saw Mindelyn for the first time, and thus, it raised some suspicions in me.

My eyes fluttered open to her staring at me. With the darkness cast over my head, she didn't realize I was looking right back at her. She stared at me for a few more seconds with that encrypted expression of hers, then focused on the windshield. I caught her reflection on the shatterproof glass. She pulled her dress down a little to show her impressive cleavage and then applied more lip gloss.

Bafflement fell over me. She liked holding my hand and flirting with me at the restaurant but pushed me away earlier when she said she had something this Friday. So, I gave her space, and now she was discreetly staring at me, resting, and fixing herself up.

What the fuck? Is this part of Johan's and her strategy?

Instead of feeling flattered, everything was starting to piss me off. I watched the young woman with caution for a bit longer, then proceeded with my final question.

"Miss Suberson, what was, or is, your intention on coming on this blind date with me?"

She was startled by my sudden inquiry but quickly calmed herself. An awkward silence fell between us, and that only fueled my speculation. My eyes narrowed as I reminded her, "Miss Suberson, I'm waiting."

She didn't move as she asked, "Um, do I have to answer this one?"

"Yes, you do," I said sternly. I wanted to know what game she was playing because I refused to be dragged into it, especially if Johan was the mastermind behind it.

"A friend of mine thought it would be a good idea to hook up with some random person on the other side of the world for a night," confessed the young woman before explaining, "He said it would be a good confidence boost and help me with my anxiety and depression."

Her declaration left me dumbfounded. Unlike every other woman I had messed with, it wasn't my money she was after. It wasn't my status or looks either. She just wanted to fuck for therapeutic purposes.

My lips pressed together, and my eyes narrowed even more as I repeated what she said to me in the hopes that I heard wrong. "Wait. So, you flew halfway across the world for the mere possibility of getting fucked by some stranger? And you thought that would be a good therapy session for you?"

She snapped her whole body to face me, pointing a finger, and stated, "Before you lecture me, I know what I did was ludicrous! However, everything was going to shit, so I thought, 'Why not? I only live once, so fuck it!'"

Still stunned by her admission, I felt some ambivalence about her decision to come here. "I'm sorry, Mindelyn, but what were you thinking? That was such a dangerous and reckless risk to take."

"You promised you weren't going to judge me." Annoyance radiated from the woman beside me, but I quickly assured her that wasn't the case.

"Miss Suberson, I am not. On the contrary, I am just laying out some very obvious facts. I easily could have been a sex trafficker, some obsequious creep, or a bloodthirsty murderer." I folded my arms and she did the same, but that didn't stop me from stating my next point, "Another thing, let's not forget that you're a woman, and this world is not particularly kind to your biological sex, especially in violent rape capitals like South Africa."

"Yeah, but you've proven to not be that, okay!" she defended with a screw of her lips. "I have a good judge of character."

Judge of character? Oh, Lord, help her!

Knowing someone's true intentions took more than mere luck and gut feelings. People wore masks all the time, and that was especially true in the business world. And knowing how everything is a business, this probably applies to humanity as a whole.

"That doesn't eliminate the possibility at all. You hardly know me. We just met; I could be putting on a façade."

"Well, are you being fake with me?" The question came to me like a baseball at supersonic speed.

However, I knew how to use my platinum bat and whacked it past third base. "No, I don't have time for such. However, is there enough trust between us to take my word for it?"

"Ugh! Have you always been this difficult?" she snapped.

I shrugged. "Has naiveté always been your card to play?"

The truth froze her for a few seconds. Licking her lips, she looked askance and seemed deep in thought. She eventually returned her exasperated eyes to me and said, in a sarcastic tone, "Fine, Mr. Nel. Do you plan to kill me tonight and leave me in a ditch somewhere?"

"No. I do not," I replied in a quandary about her impetuous decision to fly to South Africa for a supposedly curative one-night stand. "However, that doesn't dismiss the fact that you should have done some research before meeting up with some random, affluent man from an unknown country."

"For your information, Mr. Smart-ass, I researched South Africa, and I was about to back out of the idea. However, my friend, Blake, hijacked my account, and before I knew anything, you had already bought our tickets."

Uh. So, it is Blake's and Johan's master scheme. Does that mean she's just a pawn? I need more information.

Despite that, I was sure of one thing: Her green-haired friend sounded like a typical procurer. However, that would have been very rude of me to say out loud, especially since it would insinuate that she was a prostitute, which she was the furthest thing from. She held herself vastly differently from that group of people, and I would know. I had been to several parties full of them.

Deep in defense mode, she elaborated, "Look, the app only allows verified accounts with background checks. So, it eliminates potential criminals, okay?"

I admired her drive to justify herself. However, her argument could still be countered with the simple truth that wealthy criminals, like my rapist cousin Matthew, could easily pay themselves out of the system and walk around free with a squeaky-clean record. This cruel reality was super messed up, but our world bent over for anyone with pockets deep enough to make a difference.

That was what I wanted to tell her, but a piercing ping came from my phone. With a polite apology, I withdrew from our discourse and retrieved my device, only to be confronted by a message from my mother. This shocked me because she was supposed to be on a sister trip to the Isle of Maine.

The first part had a link to the article that had turned my whole world into the hellish obstacle course it was now. I gritted my teeth as the title came back to haunt me:

'South Africa's Hottest Scandal: Rising Supermodel and Deputy President's Future Daughter-in-law, Lerato Dlamini, Caught Having an Affair with South Africa's Youngest Billionaire.'

The second part of the message was equally triggering but made my heart feel heavy and stabbed through my soul like a dagger.

Ma <3: ' I'm so disappointed in you, Chester Nel. Coming back from London, this was the first thing that greeted me. Our friends and family are calling me about it too. I thought I raised you better.'

Her words stung my heart and left me paralyzed. When I had enough strength, I pulled my seat back up and sat with my face buried in my hands. Gossip followed my existence like a relentless shadow, dark and permanent, and now it had gotten to another person I truly cherished. My mother had never spoken to me like this before, so the unfamiliarity of her words left me reeling.

All I wanted was to shield her from the pain of my mistakes, but now, I didn't know how to mend the damage I had caused and just felt like an uncomfortably vulnerable piece of shit. I was exhausted, worn down by the weight of my own mistakes.

With all these mishaps piling up, mixed feelings swirling around, and the persistent case of blue balls driving me to the brink, my life felt like it was hurtling toward a nightmarish, incessant migraine. But, unbeknownst to me, the night wasn't through with its mischief just yet. It appeared determined to throw even more chaos into the mix to keep things interesting.