0.5| The Unknown, Indescribable Feeling.
2779 Words
Elliot was not least bit ashamed to admit that he had spend whole of an hour staring at Nigella as she ate her chowder with a twinge.
Nor was he about to shamefully deny that he visibly cringed everytime she made a face and then gulped down a spoonful and how he glared at her with warning everytime she tried to push the bowl away saying she had enough.
"You got to eat more Nigella. You are skinny enough. Dieting usually stops there." He reminded her as he packed away the half full bowl of chowder back into the bag, he hadn't decided what to do with the left over but he sure as heck wasn't going to throw it away. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her frown at his words.
He had only let her off for not eating the rest because she promised to eat all the Pieroges. There was no doubt those were her favourite.
He picked up the box off the table and opened it up for her. They were these Savory dumplings that are supposed to be boiled in water and then pan-fried. He guessed it couldn't be bad. Boiling is considered as a pretty healthy way of cooking.
The Pieroges were still warm when he gave them to her. She snatched up the box out of his hand and picked up two of the large ones in both hands. She was about to stuff them in her mouth when accidentally their eyes met.
The message was clear.
Eat them one by one or none of them.
She fake coughed and kept one back inside then chewed on the other.
As she ate them one by one, her violet eyes grew bigger and brighter. Life seemed to return in them as she savoured then happily.
Elliot smiled just a little, at least she won't be hungry at night after eating all of those Pieroges. That was his biggest concern.
He waited patiently until she finished all of them and picked up the trash. He was so inexperienced in cleaning up and it showed in the way he stuffed the empty boxes back into the bag. The falafel was left untouched, he might have to eat then later all by himself. Maybe he would offer some to Marcus if he wasn't being a smart arse.
"Oh, how rude of me. I didn't offer you any!" Nigella said unapologetically picking at her nails beds. She was still chewing on her last piece, her cheeks were swollen. Elliot's fingers twitched to pinch them just once. Just once.. NO!
He fisted his fingers under his thumb and they stopped twitching, instead something in his chest started to bang against his rib cage. Elliot guessed it was time for his full body check up. Maybe he was suffering from a heart disease? It might even be serious.
"It's okay." He brushed away, trying to sound casual. He swallowed. Outside the tiny window of the room he had a full view of the half-moon and a few stars. It was very dark. He should have been home by now. He had to look after Marcus. Elliot liked to think that his little brought who was barely a few years younger than him, needed supervision all the time.
He was the most innocent out of the three after all. He was still learning the cutthroat basics of business.
As a result, he had to leave now, leave Nigella.
"I'm leaving now. I'll come pick you up tomorrow morning, sharp at nine. Be ready, okay?" He informed.
Nigella swallowed, the movement of her neck caught his eye. She sniffed, "You still have time to back out, suits. You don't have to do this."
"My parents didn't name me Suits, Spencer."
She smirked.
With a roll of his eyes he helped her lay down on the bed and covered her with a blanket from head to toe like a corpse, the blanket was all white which gave more effect to the dead play.
He tucked the ends of the blanket under the matress to lock her inside just for the fun of it.
"This is illegal!" Her muffled voice told him from under the blanket. She wiggled under the thin layer but not hard enough to get out. She was playing around as much as he was.
It was thin enough for her to keep breathing, so he wasn't worried. If she was as smart as she made herself to be, she would be out of it before he left the hospital.
Elliot grinned, mainly because she was not able to see him and he did not have to hide it. He pushed back his hair that fell from the perfect hairdo, "Is it?"
"I am sure it is!"
"I'll just serve a sentence then. Don't try anything funny. I'll be back for you." He touched the top of the blanket where he guessed was her face. His fingers brushed over the fabric ever so slightly, then he let his hand drop to his side with an inaudible huff. He picked up the leftover chowder and falafel.
"I am very behaved!"
Elliot chuckled and he didn't bother hiding it either, "I am sure Nigella. Good night."
He did not expect her to say anything in return. He turned away and heard her whisper something very similar to 'Goodnight' just before he left the room. He kept smiling like a fool all the way home.
Marcus was sprawled on the living-room couch, one of his legs hanging halfway down and his mouth open wider than Elliot ever wanted to see. He placed the bag on the coffee table.
Elliot kicked his other leg down and made place for himself to sit on the couch. Marcus was dead asleep and the house was darker than he felt it should have been. He was still smiling to himself, thinking of things and people he shouldn't think about. Person really. His head was centred around that one sun.
He shrugged off his blazer and chucked it over Marcus' face as a very loving brotherly gesture to keep him warm. He picked up the chowder and falafel again and made a bee line towards the kitchen.
He made sure to keep his footsteps silent, even though the house was empty except for Marcus and himself he didn't want to disrupt the atmosphere that the silence provided him with. It was calm, so very calm. A contrast to what was churning inside him all the time.
He was chaotic on the inside, so he loved the chill that silence gave him occasionally. He placed the plastic bowl in the microwave, after checking if it was microwave proof or not. He put on a timer for three minutes and leaned on the counter until his dinner was heated up properly.
Yes, that half eaten chowder was going to be his very late night dinner. It looked delicious when Nigella ate it and it was better that he ate it that shoving it down his brother's throat and Elliot wasn't sure if Marcus would appreciate leftovers.
Elliot was completely fine with it. He didn't even think before he made up his mind, which was one of the few other reasons he had to see a doctor soon.
He had thrown a fit in kindergarten when his parents had given him Maximus's toy to play with, all because he didn't want something that was already used by someone else. And now he was willingly sharing food someone's food whom he barely knew.
He munched on the cold falafel as he waited for the timer to go off. There were only four of them, which was very cheap of Pedro, he should have been considerate and given him more than that amount if he was going to send him this in the first place.
The microwave dinged just as he finished the last one and took out the steaming bowl out. The fragrance of sweetcorn spread around the kitchen. His mouth began to water. He was so hungry all this time that he was ready to pounce on it caveman style.
Back in the hospital he did not even have to ignore all the cravings as they never came to him in the first place.
Nigella was more distracting than anything eatable. How was he supposed to think about hunger when she was stuffing her face so adorably?
He shook his head. It wasn't the time to think about her. He should eat and go to sleep, he had to pick her up in the morning.
And there, he was thinking about her again.
Come to think of it, Nigella was very different from the women he had acquainted himself with. She wasn't a fan of him.
She didn't recognise him at first sight, which was a surprise as many magazines and newspapers covered the Knight brothers very often on the front pages. She had to be from out of New York with the slight accent that he detected in her voice.
Irrelevant to the points mentioned, he was taken by surprise that she didn't try to flirt with him when she saw him. His identity did not matter at this point, his face did.
His face was handsome enough to get girls falling on their heels and landing themselves in his arms. The rest depended on if he was willing to hold them of let then fall on their faces and embarrass themselves. Most of the latter were daughters of snobs whom he hated.
Nigella had cursed at him and told him to leave her alone when he tried to use his charm.
Which he wasn't going to do, he thought to himself with a smirk. He was going to stick around until he figured out Nigella and sorted out the reason behind the constant heart racing he felt when she touched him, he wanted a proper, defined answer to his thoughts that circled only around her since he met her.
And most of all he wanted to help her. He hadn't done anything good in awhile, unless occasionally bullying your sister-in-law's cunning cousin sister counted as a good deed.
But not out of goodness of his heart, out of curiosity, out of an indescribable feeling he felt towards her, he wanted to help her. Or maybe that was only an excuse so he could see her more in the future.
That's what Elliot did. He made excuses for everything until he had a proper explaination to give.
Late at night in the darkness of his dining room, as he ate the leftover chowder, thinking about Nigella's sparking eyes, he was determined to get an explaination as to why he was grinning like a lunatic and looking forward to see her face in the morning.
------------------------------------------
Nigella was robbed off her sleep once again. She had trouble sleeping for as long as she remembered and being in a hospital did not help.
As soon as Elliot left her hospital room, she flung the blanket aside and sat up in her bed, sighing and massaging her forehead to ease the forming headache.
She shouldn't be lying in the hospital bed as if she had all the time in the world. She should have gone to her part time job, gotten her paycheck today and had paid the installment of her University fees.
But here she was, suddenly under the wings of a rich man who wanted to take responsibility for his car hitting her in the middle of the street. Nigella was having none of it, she had better things to do, but she understood what he meant when he mentioned his guilt.
Nigella knew all about guilt. It spread like termite.
That was the only reason she had not attempted to run away. She had to get back to work soon, get her paycheck and pray that the office accepted her late p*****t.
Her rent was overdue as well, she doubted if her land lady would wait another month for her rent. It was as impossible as the scorching sun freezing over in the space. That old lady only loved her dozen Cats in the whole entire world.
Despite having her bank account full of cash, Nigella was adamant on making ends meet all by herself. She won't give her papa a reason to think that she needed his help.
She had left Russia with a goal in mind, she had convinced her papa to let her go with a bucket load of confidence in her words. He was too reluctant to let Nigella go to an unknown place all by herself. Her stepmom, Stella, was just as worried as he was. It was obvious that they loved her too much.
But she finally got her way after months of effort.
"I will not try to stop you anymore, but if I get a single word that you aren't doing good then I will come and get you, princess." Those were the exact words her papa had send her off with.
She had promised to come back once she found herself.
She wanted to make an identity for herself that did not circle around the fact that she was the daughter of Romero Crawford, a Russian tycoon. Not to mention a bastard at that.
Her life was full of arrows of pointing fingers and daggers for words thrown in her direction. Her family never tried to hide her or the very obvious fact that they loved her more than anything. She was an heiress to their fortune, they had said. She was their princess from the day her mother left her at her Papa's place at the age of five.
Nigella never believed that she was a princess. She was a coal instead of the diamond they all thought of her to be. She stained their name and she was very well aware of it.
Matteo, her brother who was only a year younger than her was the rightful heir to the Crawford's in her eyes even if he thought otherwise.
It was obvious that she had to leave, Nigella thought she was undeserving of all the luxury, of the family she had. She wasn't a part of it, no matter how much they said that she was.
She had survived half a year in university with her own saved up money, then found a job to keep herself financially stable.
But the true meaning of poverty hit her when her savings were over and she was left to pay for everything with her monthly paycheck.
She had to cut down on many things to avoid using her card, which her father kept filling every month with a hefty sum.
She ate very little to cut the cost of groceries, buses were a luxury to her, she walked all the way to University everyday and walked back to her rented one room apartment.
One bottle of water lasted her a day if she took small, consistent gulps. Those habits had changed her for the worse. She grew repulsive to eating anything except for a few dishes she loved eating.
She wasn't weak, no, Nigella was anything but that. She had managed to stay alive in the running race that New York was, she could do it again.
And she didn't want the sympathy that swarmed in Elliot's eyes whenever he looked at her. His golden eyes, those unique golden eyes would go soft whenever their eyes met, it had to be sympathy right?
She was not expecting him to even get her to the hospital after the accident, but he stuck around and took care of her. He even promised to pick her up in the morning and take her home.
Nigella was more nervous about that, about what he would think of her after he saw where she lived. Her apartment wasn't in the worst part of New York but it wasn't the best either. If it wasn't for her judo skills, Nigella would have been mugged around a hundred times in that locality by now.
Elliot wasn't a friend, yet, what he thought of her mattered. She didn't want to embarrass herself, neither did she want to admit that her papa was a filthy rich man in Russia and she was just being a stubborn daughter who got her way.
She never wanted anyone to know, she wanted to be real. Hence, the name change in the identity cards. She was a spencer now. Nigella Spencer.
And Elliot was in for a twisted ride if he wanted to stick around.
- Writer
