The Accidental Meting

Rufina’s POV.

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I lowered my head briefly from the steering wheel to retrieve my phone, which had unceremoniously fallen while I was attempting to answer a call.

It had been so long since Nelson called me that seeing his name on the screen made me a jittery, nervous mess. As I picked up the phone and returned my gaze to the front, my eyes widened at the view ahead of me.

Oh dear lord.

I couldn't avoid it anymore. My car was speeding toward the man who was walking ridiculously slow on the road. All I could do was stop abruptly, but the car still reached him and hit him, a little I hope, knocking him down, quickly unbuckling my seatbelt.

I opened the door and ran outside, circling around my car to squat down and check on the man. Surprisingly, he hadn't moved an inch, though he was clearly conscious.

The car hadn't actually hit him, judging by the considerable gap I observed, but heart problems, depression, shock, and alcohol could all be factors. He reeked of vodka, which suggested all three might be at play. He's probably depressed, in shock and definitely drunk.

"Umm, I'm very sorry, sir. Let me help you up," I apologized, extending my hand. His brilliant blue eyes skimmed my face and, after a few seconds of holding my gaze, he smiled.

My lord.

I was hypnotized; he was both breathtaking and adorable.

Hypnotized? Breathtaking? Adorable? What the hell is wrong with me? I just hit someone with my car, and instead of getting him to a hospital.

I'm swooning over him.

Rufina!, I chide myself mentally.

And why’s he still smiling?

"I don't think I want to get up" he breathed out, his voice a raspy breath with a thick stench of vodka.

It's 11am! How could he have drunk so much this early?

"A picture of you from the ground is so... so beautiful" he drawled, his eyes shaky as if he was fighting not to go unconscious and I'm floored.

What situation is this? I'm sure my car didn't hit this man by now but he's on the floor anyway, sprawled hot and comfortably.

"Sir, something's not right. I think you can't stand up," I have zero medical or nursing skills, don’t blame me for my exaggeration, I don't even understand what I'm saying but I'm trying to reason with him.

It's either he's being dramatic or I'm in trouble.

I drew in a staggering breath when instead of replying, his smile widened.

My poor, poor heart.

Ignoring his earlier words about enjoying a view of me from the ground, I offered him a hand, but he doesn't move or look like he's attempting to. And now I’m genuinely scared. He seemed fine, so why wasn't he getting up?

I glanced around and it appeared no one's noticing whatever is going on here yet.

'Is he paralyzed?' I wondered, eyes widening before brushing the thought away. If he could still flirt, he had to be okay.

With newfound confidence, I took a deep breath and knelt beside him, trying to help him sit up was impossible because he wouldn't budge and he weighs exactly like what I'd never be able to carry. A ton!

He sniffed suddenly, as if on the verge of tears. 'Maybe he's just drunk. What a day,' I thought, feeling unlucky after being stuck with a month-long assignment from my incompetent boss and the new nuance C.E.O that’s coming that they won't let anyone breathe about. I'd thought the day couldn't get any worse, but jail time is real time.

My outstretched hand is ignored completely as he appears to be settling in, there has to be a way to do this.

"Okay, I'm calling an ambulance.” I let out with a sigh, reaching for my phone. “You need to go to the hospital,” I add. I'm only able to remain this calm because he seemed fine and not in pain but if he’s immobile then I just might still go to jail.

"No!,” the drunk man let out, as shuffling sounds met my ears.

I glanced at the screeching man with wide eyes, “No, don't do that. I'll go now," he objected quickly, leaving me dumbfounded as he stood up and brushed off his dark green pants.

It was bright, so the colors were clear, if it'd been dark, one would think the pants were black. His healthy looking gold strands fell on his forehead, and for a moment, I wanted to run my fingers through it. Shaking my head to clear such thoughts, I focused on the situation.

“You were paralyzed and on the verge of losing consciousness just now” I reminded him tightly.

Had he been playing with me? That's not fair, I barely have time for this. Today's my only weird half free day and I wanted to rest!

He shook his head and then grimaced right afterward, I pressed my lips together in disgust.

What alcohol does to people yet they take it as though they're paid to. I won't even drink for a hundred bucks or a thousand. It's horrible.

"I'm fine, see? But I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee," he flirted, adjusting his buttercream t-shirt while religiously holding my gaze.

"I don't drink coffee in the afternoon," I rejected, despite secretly liking the strange feeling coursing through me as he was asking me out to make up for my mistake.

He cocked a brow, curious, "Okay then, so you don't want to make up for what you've done, I see," he said, setting a trap he knew I'd willingly fall into.

I did almost hit this down on his luck drunk guy though somehow he doesn’t give the energy of a perpetual debtor or currently broke but he definitely appears in debt. Maybe I could be nice in his Hurricane, I mused, pretending I was thinking it thoroughly, coffee wasn't a big deal, so I relented. "Okay, if I get you coffee, we're even."

He grinned, "Though it doesn't make up for my near-death experience, I'll take it," he turned, almost bouncing on his feet as we walked to my car.

He’s enjoying this. I wonder why.

I drove us to a cafe near my place because I didn't want to drive far again. We both got out, looking sharp, I always look sharp, have to, just in case Mr-where’s-miss-Rufina, ‘My boss’ starts looking for me while the drunk guy next to me seemed to have rearranged himself while I was driving.

He grinned and offered his hand. I glanced at it with a frown. He quickly withdrew it, with a darkened gaze and walked ahead perhaps when he realized I wasn't his girlfriend or anyone he knew for that matter. It seemed to hurt him deeply, his frown spoke a lot. He paused in his steps, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Uhh I can't bear this, noticing his defeated look makes me feel horrible.

"Hey… come on, let's go," I called him out of his sad reverie, he met my eyes and the dark look washed away to surface his cheerful self.

The switch was so relatable it made me shudder.

Confidently, he gook my wrist, I shiver.

"Get ready, cause I'm buying coffee until you're penniless," he teased with a dirty grin but I could only watch his face. He moved, leading me toward the cafe entrance, his cold hand gripping my wrist softly.

"Why is your hand so cold?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know. It's always like that," he shrugged, still holding my wrist in a somewhat protective grip.

His sweat glands must be the cause of his almost dripping palm.

At the counter, he ordered for both of us. It was amusing how he was the one doing everything when he was the one needing comforting. He seemed to have forgotten everything, acting so casually.

We sat at a table facing each other, and I finally had a chance to focus on his vibrant blue eyes. He was still smiling, obviously studying me.

He is a golden blond retriever.

Looking around the cafe, and feeling a bit out of place in this new environment I try to smile back. This cafe’s close to my apartment but I always just drive past it and use the ones next to work as that’s where I exist most.

I glance at him and this blue-eyed, blond dude is still gazing at me with the never gonna be annoying smile. "Why are you smiling like that?" I asked finally.

"You have intelligent eyes," he complimented immediately, still smiling.

"Just my eyes? Well, my brains and skin are intelligent too," I teased as I smiled back genuinely, probably surprising him because his gaze fell to my lips and he leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable.

"I'm Xander— Just Xander," he stressed, not offering his last name for whatever cunning reason I don’t care about.

"Okay, Xander," I paused, taking a sip of my coffee. I don't hate it, I just prefer to not do it in the afternoon.

When he continued to look at me, with curiosity dripping out of his every pore, I found myself giggling. "My name's Rufina, Rufina Maeve Donnelly. I do have a last name." I told him and was gifted with an almost elegant eye roll, “And a middle name,” I added to piss him off or I was just enjoying this.

“That’s awesome, lovely to meet you, miss Rufina” he reacted smoothly.

I narrow my eyes at him, he’s good. “Not nearly nice to see you, Xander, When I saw you earlier, I thought you were drunk…," I trailed off looking around again.

“Bastard?” he offered politely and it was almost comical. “Yes, a drunk junk” I confessed, probably dampening the mood but we could talk about it. He almost died.

He laughed awkwardly before weirdly chugging his coffee, "I just might still be a little drunk, I've got a lot on my mind. Been drinking all morning," he admitted, his sadness returning heavily on his chest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I offered, willing to listen.

He looked up at me, his voice hoarse. "I did tell you I'd drink your money's worth” he taunted. I thought this saying was reserved for alcoholic drinks?

“I'll tell you a story," he said quietly, his Adam's apple catching my eye.

"Okay, I'm all ears," I replied eagerly. I'm tired but I like a good story.

His eyes seemed to catch a movement through the glass windows of the cafe and he suddenly went rigid, "We can't talk here. It's not safe. Let's go somewhere else," he whispered, suddenly standing up, as if remembering something. But something happened and a sudden sense of unease crept over me.

Dear lord!.