Amaranth - By Rachael Wade Page 0,1
later, my first cup of French chocolat in hand, I headed toward the deserted tables outside the shop, struggling to pin my side to the door to push it open. My purse slid off my shoulder and thumped to the ground, spilling my black book with its loose papers everywhere.
I bent to pick up the scattered contents, mindful of my drink in my free hand that it didn’t spill. Little bursts of wind sent some of the papers into the cold slush in a flurry, making the writing a runny mess.
That’s all I had time to think before something lashed into me, knocking me off balance. I tumbled to the ground with an awkward thud and a wince when I made impact with the concrete, and opened my eyes to find my chocolat splattered all around me. I looked down at my poor magic coat, confused and embarrassed.
A repentant voice boomed, “Oh ma’am, I am so sorry! Here, let me help you with that. I am really sorry, I just ... forgive me?”
A tall, slender guy leaned down to pick up my things and offered his hand to help me stand. Intense dark brown eyes, short tousled brown hair, an earnest face. I smiled and shook my head at him, hoping I didn’t look angered by his mishap.
“It’s fine,” I said. “This is pretty much my life on a daily basis.” I pushed my long tangled mess of brown hair away from my face. “Wait. Do I really look old enough to be called ma’am?” I was only twenty-one, for God’s sake. I took his hand and stood, brushed my hands on my coat before I looked into his eyes. I felt myself blush.
“Uh, no, I guess not. Just habit, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, so ... again, I apologize for that.” His eyes brightened with hopes of redemption.
“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for helping me up and everything.” I looked down, intimidated by his fierce eyes, although I couldn’t look away for long. His pale skin and cheekbones were stunning, and a strange scar above his left eyebrow, out of place among his perfect features, ironically added to his charm. I tried to think of something to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Okay, well, let me at least get you another drink. Here, sit down.” He beat my response, gesturing to the closest table on the wintery terrace.
“No, please, you really don’t have to--”
“I want to, really.” He kept moving for the door. “It’ll take just a second. That looks like it was chocolat. I’ll be right back.” He darted inside.
Defeated, I slumped onto the chair next to me. I was here to change, after all. I needed to be open, to bend a little. And this guy seemed normal enough. He looked nothing like the bastard I left back in Seattle. But then again, looks can mislead. I contemplated his origin while I lit a cigarette and waited for his return. I wasn’t sure, but he sounded American.
“Okay, here we go.” He handed me my replacement. I noticed he held two drinks. “Some people think it’s a little cold this time of year to be sitting outside like this, by the way. Mind if I join you? We could go inside if you want.” He smiled.
“I like it actually. And sure, but please, don’t let me keep you. I appreciate the drink though.” I sent him a faint smile back.
“The least I could do after knocking you over like that. I was in a hurry, but I found what I was looking for.” He studied my face for a moment, then pointed up at the window above the shop, diagonal to where we sat. “A relative of mine lives in the apartment upstairs, but this is my first time visiting her new place. She’s not expecting me for a little while anyway. I was frantic to get here. Already managed to get lost twice.” He laughed, then sipped his coffee.
I peered up at the elegant apartment front. “This is a great place to live. I bet your family loves it here.”
“Yeah, from the little bit I’ve heard about it, it sounds great.” He watched me take a drag off my cigarette.
“I hope the smoke doesn’t bother you,” I said.
“No. Quit almost a year ago. Sometimes being around it makes me want one, that’s all.”
“Oh.” I nodded, relieved. “In that case, I’d offer you one but I don’t want to be a bad influence. A year, that’s a long