Enter: Mysterious Stranger
1111 Words
The strawberry smoothie was hitting quite nicely with the plain muffin, or it would be if a certain someone got the message and left me alone. “Are you sure that’s enough food? You’re just so skinny, I don’t want you to starve. I worry about you, you know?” He smiles like I’m supposed to praise his concern, pat him on the head even.
“Thank you for worrying,” My words coil around the base of neck tightening the invisible noose I had wrapped there. “For worrying about me I mean.
His smile broadens my urge to ram my foot up his butt increases.
But as the only heir to Laxon Holdings, it is my lot in life that I must maintain a perfect public image. And he, as the only son ‘worthy’ to be my marriage candidate, must do the same.
It’s why we are out and about early Saturday morning on a ‘coffee date’ even though he would much rather be anywhere else. And by the way, his eyes keep following all the much prettier girls in the shop I know he would much rather be with anyone else.
Heaving a sigh, I take another long sip from my smoothie. Why smoothie you ask? Well…
This ‘coffee date’ was decided by both our parents to be a ‘good idea’. They have it in their heads that the longer we spend together the more ‘in love’ we’ll become with the idea of an arranged marriage. But I can assure beyond a shadow of a doubt that, despite various degrees of rage, I had never felt anything more than disdain for the gentlemen in front of me.
So, I ordered a smoothie and a muffin.
“Ugh, guess they’re just letting anybody in.” I turn up to look at Eugene to find his gaze stuck somewhere outside the shop's windows. Following his line of sight, I discover pretty quickly who he’s speaking about.
Standing, quite a distance away, leaning against a two-wheeled motorized monstrosity was a boy from our school, I recognized both his uniform but not his shaggy hair. Which he was wearing because he undoubtedly was just released from weekend detention.
“Don’t stare too long Lia,” Eugene clicks his tongue, “wouldn’t want him to get any funny ideas. He started school just last Friday and he’s already received detention. Did you know he burnt his old school to the ground, and that he fought one of his teachers—like an actual fistfight? He’s so obstinate.”
A big word from a small mouth.
“Don’t repeat things you hear without actual evidence.” My mother says that to me all the time.
Well, she used too.
“I have some very reliable sources.”
“If her name starts with T and ends in I, then I don’t want to hear it.” I took another sip of my smoothie. “Anyways, I’m almost done with my smoothie and—”
“Great. We can take a walk around the plaza.” He smiled, his dazzling perfectly white teethed blinding the entire area around us. And my shoulders deflated, my quick escape foiled once again.
“Fine,” I grumble standing with drink in hand.
#
Once outside Eugene breaks off into some story about how his father once bought an entire village only to rebuild it as a plaza ‘just like the one we’re standing in’.
My fingers itch but I keep my cool.
Aurelia Ophelia Laxon does not, will not ever, use violence against another person.
At least not in public.
Out of the corner of my eye I spot a few paparazzi snapping pictures. They’re quite a distance away from me because by this point in time they all know better than to mess with the only daughter of the Laxon family.
My father would not only sue their companies, he would ruin their lives and their careers.
Truly the only blessing of having a ‘King’ for a father.
My gaze inevitably settles back on the boy leaning against his motorcycle.
He looks quite cozy, shoulders relaxed draped in a black leather jacket legs covered in those black slacks that all the boys of the Academy have to wear. His long hair, which falls over both eyes, is technically breaking protocol but no one has enough courage to tell him that.
His eyes slink to me. I can’t see them but I know they’re on me.
I raise a brow at him and the corners of his lips turn upwards in a sly smirk.
I frown.
“Lia? Are you listening to me?”
My attention snaps back to Eugene and I offer him a flustered smile, “Sorry, what was that?”
“As I was saying,” He ground his teeth in irritation. “My mother also says that—” yadda yadda.
God kill me now.
At that moment my phone began to ring. Pulling it out of my side purse the words BIG BRO flashed on the screen. I nearly laughed in relief and pressed the answer button.
“Charles? Does daddy want me home now?” I asked my tone alight with mirth.
“Why yes madam, I’ve sent the car.” The voice on the other line is Charlie Grimes. My father's secretary/errand boy (in my opinion) he’s ten years older than me but since I was eight he’s been in charge of raising me.
He’d been working for my father since he was fifteen and I always thought of him as more of a brother. An overly strict brother who couldn’t give me hugs—because lawsuits—but still a brother.
Fluttering my eyelashes at Eugene I smiled with feigned sadness, “Seems daddy is home early. Raincheck on the date?”
“Of course, Lia,” He smiles widely. “I’ll text you.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Then I watch him leave. He doesn’t wait with me for my chauffer—no he has much better places to be.
“Ugh, men.” I hiss under my breath spinning around to head to the parking lot.
I feel shaggy heads eyes on me as I go to stand at the curb. We’re standing quite a distance from each other, so I’m confident no one hears me when I hiss the word ‘what’ at him.
He rolls his eyes, or I can guess he’s rolling his eyes.
“The faces you make are funny,” His tone is light, but it carries heavily through the air to me. I’m shocked to discover he has some sort of accent.
“That’s rude.” I scoff.
He laughs.
I glare at him.
He bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing again.
“What’s your name?” I ask feeling vexed and intrigued at the same time.
“*Oryn.”
“Oryn?” I repeat, his lips turn upwards in a humored smile. I have half a mind to shake him until he tells me exactly what is so funny but I spot the familiar BMW pulling into the parking lot. “Well nice seeing you.”
“Likewise, Princess,” He drawls but I don’t spare him another glance.
I do however feel his eyes on me long after I’d already left the plaza.
- Writer
