A little too much in a hurry, James nearly knocked into a man just around the corner. "Whoa, whoa!" The man bellowed a laugh, he held James' arms to his sides to keep him steady. He was an older man with dark hair and a well-groomed scruffy beard. He had wide shoulders and hands so big, he could probably crush James' bones to make his bread.
"I'm sorry," James flushed, finding himself a little speechless. It was like seeing a movie star in real life. He just didn’t look real. James shook his head, struggling out of his daze and decided to act like a well-functioning person again. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, of course, but you should be careful matchmaker," his smile grew and James shuddered. This man had the iciest blue eyes James had ever seen. "You never know who lurks behind corners, who might not be so nice." He stepped away, releasing James' arms. The warmth of his touch lingered as did the impression of his fingers.
James cleared his throat, calming the butterflies in his stomach. "Yes, well thank you and uh, I'm sorry again, but do I know you?"
"Oh, no, no," he said, "but I know of you. James Connolly, right? You came with Delphine, lovely woman. She set up an old friend of mine with her current wife."
"I'm happy to hear it and yes, that's me but I don't know you."
He laughed again, a big boisterous laugh that took up most of the hall. "That's quite alright!" He took James' hand, sending a jolt up his arm. James couldn't place him. Could he be a wizard? He wasn't sure. The air around him was just as confused as James. He introduced himself, "I'm Elias Baines at your service." He slipped a card into James' hand, "if you ever need anything, give me a call. Nothing is too little or small, especially not for someone with eyes like yours. Now I must find a seat."
He patted James' shoulder, walking around him, "I hope to find you at the reception."
James smiled, "I'll save you the first dance."
With another thunderous laugh, Elias disappeared around the corner. James debated abandoning Delphine to sit next to... James raised the black business card. Silver ornaments framed the sides. In the middle was simply his name Elias Baines, his number and on the back of the card in small lettering was ‘Just Business’.
That was vague, weirdly vague, but James didn't really care. He could be "just" anything and still make James swoon a little. He hurried to the bathroom, forgetting all about Mr. Baines' very good advice. He checked the time when he finished, wondering if it'd be in poor taste to walk into the ceremony right after the bride. Maybe Julia would let him carry her veil until he found his seat. Maybe he shouldn't risk it.
He bolted down the hall.
This time he ran right into someone, who fumbled and dropped everything in their hands. James cursed, slipping on what he didn't know, it all was happening so fast and he purchased a one-way ticket to the floor. Yet, someone grabbed James around his chest and pressed him against theirs, keeping him upright. They were the safest pair of arms James ever experienced.
Once the second of chaos ended, the stranger tried to say, "Are you-"
"Crap!" James gasped, seeing a cake splattered against the ground with a James sized foot print in the middle. Little napkins with the initials "J & W" in the corner were scattered everywhere. James thought he was going to heave. "I'm so sorry! Oh, no oh, no."
"Don't worry about it. Are you-"
James lowered to the ground, hoping it was at least a little salvageable. Maybe it would be if he wasn't such an idiot and stepped right into the middle of the cake. No mere mortal could create such a terrible catastrophe. Only James Connolly owned this special unlucky power. He started picking up the napkins because it was the least he could do. Hopefully, they wouldn’t spontaneously combust. "I can't believe it. I feel like such an ass- wait. Was this made from scratch? Oh man."
"I suppose, but are you-"
"Shit," James cursed again. He couldn't stop himself. "Are you alright? I knocked into you."
He looked up and finally, he froze. His next thought disappeared into the ether. Something deep inside of James, something he didn't even know he had pulsed and he nearly choked up his heart. This feeling of awe filled his chest, weighing it down like dried cement.
"I'm fine." The stranger muttered, an irritated sigh at the end.
For someone with a perfect face, he sure knew how to make a deep frown. He had little expression at all, shamefully so with his strong jaw line and high cheek bones. He had thick brows and black hair that was cut short, but James could tell that if it were any longer, it'd curl and he had a scruffy beard. He had warm dark skin like freshly baked bread pulled right out of the oven.
This man was tall, dark and handsome and in a suit.
And he was breath taking.
The stranger grumbled in his deep voice as he glared into the direction where James came sprinting from, "I'm surprised I didn't sense you around the corner. I'm usually much better..." He blinked, glancing back at James. His eyes cut right through his chest, leaving a bloody opened wound.
His eyes said I'm dangerous.
They were a warning, but more of a challenge.
He stated, "you have no smell."
James cleared his throat, finally finding the feeling in his legs so he could stand. This guy was too intimidating. James felt like staring at his shoes and apologizing for every bad thing he's ever done. He tried to muster something casual and a forced laugh, "Well, I think it's only fair. I don't have super smell like you and all the other creatures. You could smell me and remember that smell forever. It's a little unfair."
"Smart. Wizard?"
"Sort of," James admitted. Oracles had the third eye, which wasn't hereditary. It was like winning the magical lotto, though James usually felt like the loser. They're treated like "chosen ones". Another reason why matchmaking seemed like such a waste to the rest of the world.
"I'm an oracle." James pointed at the stranger, "vampire?"
"I see why you'd want to hide it. That's smart. You're in short supply," He cracked a smile and James' brain melted. He felt like a high schooler all over again, drooling over the team captain of the baseball team.
However, seventeen-year-old pitcher, Donny Green had nothing on this stranger.
The stranger said, "And I'm a werewolf."
James slumped. Oh, well. Not that he was interested. This guy had an iron exterior, an intensity that didn't sit well with James' stomach. He tried apologizing again, when a scream ripped through the lobby:
"ERIC SILVA!"
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