Artistikem

Chapter 2

 

The beautiful morning scenery is cut by the blade of Steven’s deep grunt. When she looks up, he is there, staring at her and the computer on her lap.

“What do you want?” he blurts.

That question wasn’t what she had been hoping for. She had been sitting on the same bench for more than an hour, for the second day, waiting for him to appear.

“How did you learn about me? I mean, apart from your mother’s incident, of course,” he sits as far from her as the bench allows.

“She kept track of you since the day you saved her until the day you disappeared. My mother was one of those who didn’t think of you as a bad guy,” she notices his nostrils flaring as she says this, “and I’ve seen you around here, sitting alone on this bench.”

“What do you want from me? Just tell me and get it over with,” his tone is straightforward and a bit rude.

Giana puts her laptop away and sits sideways to face him before answering. A female runner passes by and Steven’s eyes appear to follow her, but he’s just staring blankly.

“Nothing, really. Just a little conversation. What have you been up to?”

He turns slowly to her, raising an eyebrow when he meets her smiling face, “you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m not good at small talk, specially with strangers.”

“Oh, dear. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Giana Armstrong,” she stretches out her hand and this time he shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Waldorf.”

“Dennis,” he corrects her, ”I’m not a Waldorf anymore.”

“Okay,” Giana checks if anyone is eavesdropping on them before proceeding, “but are you still Steven?”

“Steven Dennis,” he peers at her over his shoulder, his white skin contrasting with his dark chocolate jacket.

“Do you like books?” Giana rummages her bag until she finds one, “I work at a bookstore and just finished reading this novel, it’s really good,” she hands it to him, eager for him to take it.

Steven takes a look at the cover before giving it back.

“Don’t like to read about crime,” he’s quick to look away.

“Oh,” she puts the book back inside her bag, “maybe you can tell me what you like and I can get it for you.”

“Look, you seem like a very nice person, but I’m not in the mood for conversation right now,” his tone gives away his annoyance.

“I know I can be annoying sometimes,” Giana pulls herself away from him after noticing that she was involuntarily getting closer than what was comfortable for him.

Steven feels her pulling away and regrets being rude, “I do like poetry,” he mumbles, and is strangely happy to see her smile resurface.

“Then I know exactly what to bring you tomorrow,” Giana leaps to her feet and the leaves under her boots crackle, “see you then.”

“Wait,” Steven stands, trying to stop her from walking away, “why are you leaving?”

“I have to get to work.” She reads the time on her watch and starts walking away backwards, “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?”

“Sure,” he stays behind, watching her go. He then buries his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and can’t help but smile at her hair swaying to the beat of her steps.