01 blondie

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I WILL NOT remember.

A small affirmation on my side that helped me forget. I'd repeated it so many times that the memories were a blur now. Time helped. And forgetting was selfish, but I did it anyway, because remembering was painful. Remembering stung.

I wasn't looking for trouble when I pulled up at the local grocery store. If anything, my raging craving for chocolate was to be blamed.

Moving states for college was never my intention. But I'd always loved math, so I decided to study it and see where it'd take me.

So when I got invited to study at Columbia, it would have been an unforgiveable sin to refuse. My mother was delighted, of course. She didn't want me to stay—but never did tell me why.

Asher had also, more passively, encouraged me to come to New York. I loved my brother, I really did, but sometimes he was a bit overbearing.

He'd rented out a Manhattan apartment for me, and no amount of begging and convincing would get him out of it. I didn't need a freaking five star apartment.

Even an hour of me drilling alternative investment options for the damn money with extensive compound interest calculations to coax him out of it didn't work. He was as stubborn as they got.

I gave up.

I had already unpacked my boxes at my new apartment and my fridge and pantry were looking quite sad. So I parked my red Bentley and stepped out.

Again, Asher had bought it for me, much to my chagrin about buying one with my own money.

But I had none anyway.

College tended to leave the average student largely deprived in many aspects and well, in layman's terms—

broke.

I realized that I practically owed my entire life to my brother, at this stage. It would take me forever to pay him back. Not that he'd accept any of it.

I'd definitely taken after Wren in my motor skills. The car was barely in the two white stipulated lines. I'd say it was at least sixty degrees out. Oh, well. I wouldn't be long anyway.

Like I said, I wasn't looking for trouble. Trouble found me. I was pretty content after I'd filled up two bags with microwave popcorn and Hershey's, shoving them into the trunk and shutting it with a satisfied smile. That would last me a few days. At the very least.

When I stepped out the store, the sky had delved into a dark, ominous canvas, clouds roiling and heaving like they were going to give any time soon. And God help me if I was going to get stuck in that storm.

I got into my car, and switched into reverse. It shot back faster than I'd expected. I let out a strangled scream.

Then there was a loud bang mixed with metal crunching and a muffled male "Fuck!"

Shit, shit, shit.

I got out of my car and stared in horror at the black cycle I'd just partly demolished.

The owner stepped out, and I immediately wanted to sink into the ground.

Six foot tall and bronze skin, his curly brown hair caught my eye first. Then the seemingly perpetual frown on his full lips.

He looked beautiful.

He also looked like he wanted to kill me.

"You blind, blondie?" he quipped.

How original. Well, if I was going to die, I was going to die fighting.

I glanced over his face again, faking distaste. Partly. "I wish I was."

Something flashed in his dark brown eyes as he stared at me then, but I couldn't pinpoint what exactly. He covered it quickly with a sheet of blank. 

A fat raindrop plopped right on my cheek, startling me. I wiped it away with my palm. I bit down on my molars as he edged closer, not saying a word, still as unimpressed as before.

"Your..." I eyed the sleek black, now terribly dented bike, "vehicle wasn't there a few minutes ago."

"That's why they invented rear view mirrors," he said, narrowing his eyes. I noted the unnatural length of his eyelashes. "So that we can see vehicles that weren't there a few minutes ago."

"Right," I said — because I was tired and hungry and now guilty for screwing up this stranger's bike. The least he could do was co-operate.

"Well, then instead of insulting my driving skills that are obviously lacking, can we just swap insurance information and part so that I never see your face again?"

The man clenched that sharply cut jaw of his, staring me down. "What is your problem with my face?"

"Oh, I have no problem with your face," I said. If not for the circumstances, I might have stared at a face like his for quite a while. "It's the words that come spewing out that I have a problem with. Did no one ever teach you manners?"

He scoffed. "Listen, blondie—"

"Don't call me tha—"

"What? Blondie?" Again, that impetuous smirk that made me want to punch something. Preferably six foot tall jerks in the nearest vicinity.

He edged closer to me, and even in my heeled boots I was only as tall as his chin. He smelled of pine and cinnamon. "Blondie," he whispered.

He was the worst type of person. The type that would ruin my life. The type that only meant one thing.

Trouble.

It was drizzling now. In a few minutes, we'd both be drenched.

I clenched my fists. Deep breaths, Ever. Deep breaths.

"Look," I said, "I'm sorry. It was my fault and I admit it."

The stranger looked slightly surprised, and after realising our proximity, took a step back. He ran a hand through the curls at the nape of his neck.

"I can give you my number..." I rummaged through the pockets of my jacket and thanked my lucky stars when I found one. "For the claim."

I grabbed his hand impulsively, the skin warm but calloused. He pulled back fractionally, taken by surprise, but then stopped and allowed me to ink my number.

"There." I finished with a saccharine smile.

He reeled back his hand slowly, staring at me with curious eyes. I stared back.

"I should probably report this..." I murmured.

He broke eye contact, clearing his throat. "No need for that," he quipped.

What? So he didn't want the claim?

Raindrops fell in random bouts on my cheeks. I wiped them away, grimacing. He noticed.

"It's just rain, sweetheart," he mused, "you're not going to melt."

I chose not to respond, biting back and reminding myself to breathe. His eyes drifted to my car, which had been equally destroyed, the shiny red paint scratched on either side of the huge dent.

"Nice one you've got there." He nodded his head toward my car. "Save for the giant crater you've created. Except this is New York, and you only drive around in a car if you're really rich or really stupid."

I glared at him— at those curls that grew heavy and wet with the rain.

"Bring it to Charley's. Saturday," he said.

I remembered the black and orange logo of the auto repair. Charley's, that was it.

I nodded, despite his impertinence. "I will."

"You're going to get a ticket for that," he continued, gesturing to the pitiful state of my car— as if my situation wasn't already pitiful enough.

Other than there being a huge dent in the fender, it looked like the brake light wasn't going to be working any time soon.

The stranger stalked back to his bike in that black jacket of his, the rain coming down hard on the leather, which shone from it. I was shocked that bike could even start up again.

"Wait!" I called, the rain drowning my voice, "I didn't get your name!"

He clasped his helmet on and gave me a two finger salute. I could have sworn he winked, too. It crept under my veins.

"Goodbye, blondie."

I exhaled, clenching my fists as the rain seeping deep into my pores. It was my first day here and I already didn't like this city.

Or maybe it was just the people in it.

*

I finished my supply of chocolate in a day.

I'd like to have blamed my binge on the tall, rude stranger with the brown eyes. I'd like to have cursed him for being right—because I did get a damned ticket.

But just as beautiful as the apartment was, it was empty, and there was nothing to blame other than the fact that I was homesick. There was no denying it.

I could call Asher, but ... I had no intentions of telling my brother about the ticket—or my little accident. He'd freak out and want to fly in or give me an extensive lecture, or both, and I was not looking forward to it.

I was just going to have to find a way to pay for that stupid ticket myself. And the repairs. Plus, a little bit of cash I could call my own wouldn't hurt.

One cannot live on, I quickly discovered, purely Hershey's and microwavable popcorn.

And since I was tired of lazing around in my apartment, I decided it would do me good to venture out a little. So I threw on a trenchcoat and stepped out into the open.

I remembered seeing a restaurant, Aletta, on the way from the airport. It was a walking distance, so I didn't have to use my car. That rude stranger's maddening smirk was almost tangible.

High-rise buildings towered above me, and the streets were lit up by electric billboards, casting a reddish tint to the black tar. Everything was bright. Lit up. Alive.

I reached the restaurant with my hands in my pockets, staring up at the neon lettering. Aletta. It was just as I'd remembered it.

I entered, met by a smiling woman with red lipstick. She was pretty, her hair raven black and her skin the colour of clay. Indian features.

Her badge read Rhia—an equally pretty name.

"Hi," she said— then, "Whoa, you're beautiful!"

I blinked, taken by surprise. Warmth spread in my cheeks. I mumbled "Thanks, you t—"

"Welcome to Aletta!" Her black eyes darted behind me, to find nothing, I supposed. "No one's joining you?"

I sighed. I guess it wasn't often that people went to a restaurant alone. I didn't even have any friends in this city. I'd left all my friends behind.

So in the end, I just nodded.

A slow smile returned to her face. "Alright. You can grab a seat right there and I'll be right back for your drink."

It was busy, like everything else in this place. So I sat down, peering through the menu.

A couple seated at the table in front of me took their order from Rhia, who smiled and nodded just as she'd done with me.

"You're new here," she stated, rather than asked.

I nodded. "How'd you know?"

She smiled. "Sometimes you just know."

She took my order and left. Around forty five minutes later, I'd finished eating and was positively stuffed.

"You sure you don't want dessert?" Rhia asked.

"Gosh no," I said, "I think I'm going to explode."

"The ladies' is down the hall to the left. You can do all the exploding you want there." She winked, dark eyes sparkling. I couldn't help but laugh.

Rhia moved back to the man and woman in front of me. A few minutes later, I heard her say, "Sorry sir, our systems are down. Can you give me a few minutes to total up your bill?"

The man clenched his jaw, clearly not pleased. Rhia faltered. She began frantically scribbling something down.

"The service here is shit!" the man bellowed, and Rhia looked like she was holding back a hurricane of words. The woman sitting next to him was blushing furiously, too embarrassed to utter a word. So he was an asshole. "Call your mana—"

"Ninety-six fifty-two," I said, quietly, but loud enough for them to hear me. Rhia's eyes flicked over to me, a befuddled glaze over her features.

"You ordered a pan roasted salmon, chicken paillard, and sautéed mushrooms as a side. Your drinks were Chinon and Blackberry Smash. That comes to ninety-six dollars fifty-two cents."

Rhia's eyes were wide, and the man narrowed his own at me. I could have sworn that the lady had a slight smile on her lips. Rhia coughed, straightening.

"Right," Rhia said, a small smirk on her lips, "I'll enter that in."

The man paid, held his wife's (I assumed) hand and walked past my table.

"Good evening," he said, stopping at my side. "Try stick to your own business the next time, yeah?"

I frowned, my grip on my phone a little tighter. "If you try dislodging the stick stuck far up your ass, yeah?"

Rhia started choking behind us. She looked like she was trying hard to suppress her laughter. Unlike Rhia, I owed this man nothing. Especially not kindness.

"She was doing her best." I motioned to Rhia, who stared down at the table with a tight-lipped smile.

Stunned, and fully flushed, the man huffed his way out the restaurant. I found myself being pulled to the side by a surprisingly strong arm. I turned to meet the flabbergasted face of Rhia.

"How the hell did you do that?!" she all but screamed.

"I know, right? I don't usually insult—"

"No, not that. Although it was badass as fuck. How'd you do that whole remembering of the order and adding up so quickly?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I have a weird memory."

"Weird? Girl, I would kill for that sort of sorcery. You're a freaking magician."

I laughed. "Not a magician, but thanks."

"Thank you..." She paused.

"Ever," I filled in.

"Ever," she repeated. "Sometimes customers can be the worst. Self-entitled little shits."

"My pleasure." I smiled. "It did feel pretty badass. See you around."

I made to leave.

"Ever."

And stopped.

"Do you ... by any chance want a job?"

"A job?" I repeated slowly, "Here?"

She nodded. "You've seen the worst of it. It's actually really nice most of the time and the pay is good too. Plus, you have the personality for it. Just don't go around sassing customers too much and you should be fine."

"I..." Needed a job if I didn't want to feel guilty every time I swiped the card Asher had given me. "I'll take it," I said. "When do I start?"

She beamed. "Tomorrow. You'll have the same shift as me."

"Tomorrow? Don't you have to ask your manager ... or something?"

Rhia chuckled. "Don't worry about it. My dad owns this place."

I frowned. "Then why work here?"

She smirked. "Why not?"

I had a feeling I was going to get along with this girl.

And although I wasn't looking for trouble, it found me. But whether I admitted it or not, I was looking for a job and a friend, and I just might've found both.

*

ATS is a spin-off from my first teen fic novel, The Hoodie Girl (as some of you might have figured out already) but it can be read as a stand alone. It is different in many ways to THG, in my opinion, but hopefully you guys will still like it!

yuenwrites

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