1:44 AM

She does not like rock music—the one thing he loved the most. This crucial setback could be the cure to the overnight sickness that struck him since they met. This could be an easy way out.

"So what music do you listen to?" he asked.

"My parents loved leaving the radio tuned in to classical music. They always liked everything calm, so I grew up listening to just that. In middle school, my friends introduced me to pop music."

"Did you like it more?"

"Yeah, I did. I even stopped playing the piano to fit in with my friends. In college, I realized I could only tap into my creativity through classical music alone. When I graduated and started working, my world turned in a different direction. I met people from different places and I fell in love with the sounds of acoustic guitar instrumentals, alternative rock and R&B. The process behind every song made me appreciate them more," she said.

"Let me guess. Your ex-boyfriend was a musician," he said as he saw nostalgia spark in her eyes.

Her cheeks reddened, thinking about not only one, but three lovers who gave her the privilege to appreciate different genres of music. To her, music was a time machine that transported her back to the best and worst times.

Whenever she'd hear guitar acoustics, she thought of Wolff, a young Swiss guitar soloist and vocalist she met when she started her flying career. He toured around Europe, stealing every girl's heart, including hers.

When it was rap and alternative, it was TJ Smith, a crazy gifted music producer from New York. They were once engaged, but their relationship evolved into a bizarre, cautious friendship. And when it was electro house music, it was Kat Konnig, an international DJ she met a few months ago in one of the clubs in Dubai.

With a hint of jealousy, Dylan sat back in contemplation. If only he could influence her. But one night would not be enough.

Rock music was the air he breathed, and the thrill that cannot be bought elsewhere. If not for his band and the journey behind their music, he wouldn't know where he would be right now. Because of rock music, he survived the isolation fame had cursed him with, and opened doors to showcase his talent. He couldn't imagine being with someone who couldn't even appreciate his own music. Converting her in the little time he had would be a miracle.

Another thing. She's not from town, which was supposed to be an advantage on his part. He was known to date foreign models and celebrities. And each time they left, he'd lose contact, never intending to establish any form of relationship. He always knew it would be a total waste of time to pursue them. His hectic work schedule, plus his management, wouldn't allow such distractions. This should be a simple decision. But why was he still finding a reason to see this girl again?

Dylan had to find another flaw. A flaw that will end this episode once and for all. There had to be one worse than this.

"For all its worth, you and your friends rocked the club tonight. The energy was amazing. I just might give it a chance one day," she shrugged, unaware of the sudden hope she'd given him.

"I hope you do," he said calmly, impressed at how she made his heart spin in circles so effortlessly. "But I could understand why people hate rock. It's loud," he said, trying to hide this massive setback.

"I don't hate it. I just never felt the need to connect to it. The intensity of the music didn't match with the art I wanted to achieve. Classical music was a staple playlist in my art studio. Even if I don't paint anymore, classical music clears my head when I revise for work."

"So you paint," he exhaled, picturing her on his balcony, her hair bunched up, paint-stained and half-naked while working on an art piece.

Can she get any sexier than this?

His plan to get rid of this feeling wasn't working. She was making it so difficult as his interest in her just kept growing. Admittedly, he was attracted to gorgeous women related to the arts-theater, design, painting, mixed media and fashion.

Models were his favourite first dates. They were mostly hollow inside, conceited and boring; a recipe for a disastrous date, the perfect reason not to call them again.

"I took up Painting and French Studies before entering the airline industry. That's how Randall and I met. I left my artistic path, but at least I still speak French at work," she told him.

He noticed how her face lit up when she talked about her artistic and linguistic past. But her face changed when she said that she didn't paint as much as before.

"Why did you change courses?" he asked.

"I had to try something new and get away from something," she said, but stopped herself from saying anything further.

"Or someone?" he asked.
She shrugged with a melancholic hint in her eyes.

"Was it Randall?"

"No, it wasn't. Goodness, Randall saved my life. I wouldn't have graduated without his presence. I've always believed that there is no such thing as a coincidence, though. What happened to me awakened my fascination for travel."

"You like the thrill of escaping."

"I never thought I did until I escaped into an entirely different world in the Middle East. I could never have discovered my mission if I didn't leave my life in the States," she said.

She talked briefly about Homebound, a charity foundation she started that strives to reunite less fortunate laborers and domestic workers in Dubai with their families.

His brother, Brandon, had done something similar. He started a foundation and encouraged him to join. Three years later, the two brothers, along with many other celebrities and musicians, were helping poor school children in Central and South America.

Dylan realized there were too many layers that she had beneath her he couldn't get enough of. Eventually, they veered towards philosophy and agreed on the belief about one's ultimate life purpose. It was mind blowing that they were opposites but shared specific interests, exploring each other's minds for another hour. The sudden revelation of their shared interest to help the needy immediately compensated for her lack of interest in his music.

After a brief pause, they shared a fur blanket and made out.

"Can I ask you something?" his eyes glimmered as he watched her pull away to take a sip of her fizzy lemon water.

"Anything under the stars," she smiled, putting her drink down as she leaned back on the cozy outdoor sofa.
"Why didn't you answer my calls and text last night?"

"I was trying to stay away from trouble," she replied.

"Trouble? From a well-behaved boy like me?" he joked, pointing at himself.

"Just being honest," she laughed.

"Okay, I think I'm getting a hang of this straightforwardness already," he chuckled. "Actually, I wanted to see you again to get this weird feeling off my chest."

She appreciated his piercing honesty.

"So, is it working? Were you able to get this off your chest?" she asked, as if sensing a big entity enveloping them.

"So far? No."

"Can I be frank with you again? I don't mind if this would end up being a one night thing," she revealed.

"I mind because I don't think I want itt to be a one night thing. I want to repeat this all over again. To be frank, I've never stalked a girl before, and the funny thing is, I've enjoyed it. And I've never had the most mind-blowing conversation with anyone till today," he stammered, his soul in exhilaration.

"What should we do then?" she asked, but immediately got scared by her own question.

Even when nervousness was engulfing her, she looked him in the eyes.

"You tell me, Veronica," his voice said softly, but his eyes pierced through her soul, as if searching for the answers.

She took her hands off her knees and looked away nervously. The butterflies in her stomach just multiplied by the thousands. He was acting exactly as she'd dreamed he would be.

Dylan leaned back in the seat and tried to calm himself down. He was struggling to fight it, but it wasn't working. All this was very new to him.

"It's almost two in the morning," she said to break his thoughts.

He felt a stab in the heart, knowing he was scaring her. The rendezvous was finally over.

"Let me drive you back," he said in haste.

"No, stay put. I'll take a cab," she said as she stood up and graciously thanked him.

"I left my stuff and my car at the hotel, so I have to go back, anyway."

"Ask someone to get it for you. Do you remember what happened at the hotel?" she scolded him.

"Three hours in and you're sounding like my girlfriend. Worse, my manager," he chuckled, making her smile again.

"Well, that's 'coz it's the right thing to do. You shouldn't go back. Don't risk it."

"I don't care. The night isn't over yet and I'm not ready to let you go."

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The following chapter has mature content.

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