Remember Eliza?

Guess who’s back? She’s back, and we’re locking lips in the damn kitchen.

Earlier, we played hide-and-seek in its dim corners for a good 30 or 40 minutes. Like mischievous kids in a clandestine hideout, with the grown-ups lurking on the edges. She’s this intriguing mix of conflicts, passion, and nerves. Flipping and squirming around the kitchen, she’s like a fish out of water or a rope twisting and untwisting in spirals.

She spills the beans, confessing she’s lusted after me for years. But now, when push comes to shove, she seems genuinely shocked that I’m within arm’s reach. I reckon she’s either bolted or is chilling in the lounge, binge-watching videos with my flatmates. I tossed her an invite to crash for the night, but she’s doing mental gymnastics about that too. The coin could land anywhere.

She swings by to bid adieu. We kiss. Then, she cranks it up a notch, mutters a simple “Sorry,” and exits. I’m cool with it, though. Told her to hit me up sometime soon. She doesn’t throw any words back. Maybe she’s pissed that I played the silent card all these years. I always sensed something was amiss, but oddballs are my norm. Maybe I assumed too much.

I would’ve been content just hugging and holding her. The snag is, she wants me too damn much. I thought she’d jetted, but surprise, she’s back. “I’m surprised at the sort of music you’re playing right now,” she remarks. “Well, you’re mistaken if you think I only listen to dance music,” I shoot back. The taxi’s here. She fidgets for a beat, then locks eyes with me. “You’re a dangerous man,” she declares and promptly makes her exit.

Earlier, in the kitchen’s shadowy embrace, she spills her guts. It’s bizarre for her, she says. Married, husband in the UK. She spills the beans about how things changed since she gate-crashed my birthday bash in the Synagogue. Yet, her moves scream sexuality. I play the passive role. While I soak in her touch, my attraction is more about her insane weirdness and mystique. Kissing and holding her feels damn good. Wonder if we’ll settle for ‘just friends.’ Maybe her decision to bail tonight is for the best.