tête-à-tête

I almost tripped over my shoes on our way to the table. Aeson's hands gently came around my waist to stabilize me. I waited for me to flinch away from his touch but it was just a light uncomfortable shiver down my spine. Just like last time, I couldn't feel the phobia creep in.

The building pain in my heels distract me from my how-the-fuck theories. I uncomfortably lean down in my short ass dress, trying to loosen the straps of my shoes. Aeson gets down on his knees and takes the knot from my fumbling fingers. "Allow me?"

"I'm sorry! These aren't really my type of shoes," I smile to hide my embarrassment and the little explosion his gesture induced in my heart.

The stools around the wooden table are cute, crafted like two adorable tiny barks of trees. The place is a lot more windy than the other sections of the lawn. We can see the pool and hear the throbbing music as just a faint background here. A beautiful lantern is placed in the middle of the small table. The stars above us are glistening philosophically.

"Don't apologize for your imbalance. You're not the same without them," he chooses to tease me while engaging in an act even gentlemen hesitate. The irony almost makes me smile.

"So we are back to the insults?" I ask as he stands and moves back to his stool across from me. I put my elbows on the table and place my chin on my folded hands.

"I don't do insults, I just point out facts," he says while placing his hands neatly on the table. If he's here to make a business deal, I'm here to make it look as unprofessional as possible.

"Point this fact out for me, are you always this rude or is it something I triggered?" I pretend to sound offended.

He smiles, "I'm usually a lot worse than this. I'm actually on my best behavior Ms. Eileen."

"Again, why? I mean, apart from the obvious reason we talked about yesterday, is there any other reason for this inconvenient desire to be so politely insulting and intruding?" I struggle with my words, trying to point out his weird ways of communication.

Suddenly his eyes are dead serious as he locks me in his gaze, "Firstly, the reason you seem to believe is the most baseless one. It's not because of my looks that I'm ...controlling. Trust me, the disapprovals I receive on a daily basis is hardly ever softened by the way I look. Looks don't matter when the person is unbearably bossy and there's nothing you can do but obey. I am this way because that's the only way I know. It's the only way to get people to do what you want. I'm used to acting brutal." He studies my face curiously as I register his words.

"So you admit that you're acting? That it's all a façade and you aren't actually brutal?" I ask with a smirk.

"That's a very stupid assumption to make. I may act brutal but who knows, I could be hiding something even worse," he returns my smirk only with a lot more confidence.

"And why does that not scare me?" It really doesn't! It should scare me, even the most normal part of this whole thing, let alone his open indications of reg flags.

"God knows it should." If I were normal I would have freaked out a little right about now.

"What makes you think you have to be cruel to get things your way?" I ask instead.

"Why do you always have to have so much questions?" He asks back with a twisted smile, "And the answer is experience."

"You talk like you're ancient and I'm curious to know just how old a specimen you are," I tell him with a shrug.

"I'm curious about you too," he says, ignoring my remarks.

"There's not much to know," I tell him as a matter of fact.

"I get to decide that."

"It feels like I'm here for a surprise interview. Where's your recorder?" He laughs softly and the sound tickles my ears.

"I think you are."

"For someone who refuses to reveal his dark web identity, that's just too much to ask for," I challenge.

"Do you really want to know me that bad?" He raises an eyebrow and I skip a heartbeat.

"Just as bad as you do," I tell him and run my finger across my lips, hoping to achieve I don't know what. He squares his shoulders and looks away for a second.

"Alright! Let's know each other. I'll go first of course," he says, gaining back control over whatever just bothered him.

"Aren't gentlemen supposed to say the opposite?"

"Who said anything about a gentleman?" He smirks.

"Fine," I groan, "Shoot."

He shoots a beautiful smile of victory and begins, "Where are you from?"

"Port Angeles, Washington," I reply, short and appropriate.

"You lived there with?"

"My mother."

"Your father?" He asks carefully.

"When can I see the essay you're writing on me?" I laugh.

"Just answer me," he says with a curt smile. I roll my eyes.

"My dada lives in Australia. He moved there five years ago after their divorce. There's a small but beautiful restaurant that he owns in Melbourne. He always wanted to own a place like that."

"Oh," he mutters, eyeing me like that again.

"Don't do that," I blurt out.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" A wide knowing smirk visits his face.

"Like you are trying really hard to read me or something." I look away, a little embarrassed.

"Is that wrong?" His eyes are a lighter shade of gray now, a playful shade! Even in the dimmed golden light, I don't have any problem observing them.

"No! I mean yes! It's just uncomfortable." I kinda feel stupid now to have brought it up.

"Why?"

"Because people don't do that!" I blabber out the truth again, hoping against the hope that he'd just say okay and move on.

"I'm sorry, but I like to read your eyes so that's not going to change," he says instead. It makes me laugh.

"What?"

"You said that like you do that everyday." I laughed at the impossibility of the idea.

"Well, I'm working on that," he says with a shrug.

"Working on what?" I ask him with a sudden hint of paranoia in my voice.

"You are forgetting that I ask the questions."

I contemplate bargaining but I can tell he has closed up on that side of the conversations. "For now," I let out a resigned sigh.

"So, have you always planned on studying at California State university?" He continues with his inquisition as if he didn't just say I'm some project he's 'working on'.

"No! But how do you know I study at CSU?" He laughs, louder than I've ever heard him before.

"I respect your suspicions of me being a stalker but it's simply because Miley just invited her friends from school tonight, and you seem to be on the list." My cheeks redden.

"Where did you plan on studying then?" He asks again before I could say anything to cover up my lack of intellect. His question makes me forget all my embarrassments.

"Princeton," I say with a small, unwilling smile. "I've always wanted to study there, I had collected piles of notebooks and alumni guides. I had to keep up with the extra-curriculars, though I sucked at anything extra."

It's been a long while since I've talked about my past dreams. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. But it feels good to let it out and almost funny, all the hysterical efforts I put into it.

"I'm sorry you couldn't make it," he says, eyeing me cautiously. He is one presumptuous guy.

"I didn't apply," I tell him and immediately regret it.

"Why?"

"I changed my mind," I shrug.

"You've got to give me more than that."

"I'm sorry to disappoint but that's all I have." He is silent after that, for a quite long time. I examine his hands, the details, the veins, the callous long fingers.

"So, is your boyfriend from Port Angeles too?" He asks. I burst out laughing again.

"Has it always been that obvious?" I ask, more to myself.

"What?" He asks, with a small smile on his lips.

"He's my bestfriend. And yes, we've grown up together," I clarify.

"That explains."

"Explains what?"

"His possesive nature. It's still not justified however." I roll my eyes.

"You really don't know anything." Mark's protective gestures fabricated from an entirely different cause. He is the only one who has been through my darkest phase and I can never be grateful enough for that.

"I will, soon," he says with the intensity that amazingly makes his irish look darker.

"I don't think so."

"Was that a challenge ma'am?"

"I don't challenge, I just point out facts," I tell him with a smirk.

"We will see about that. Now tell me, do you live here alone?" he asks, dropping the previous subject mid-air as always.

"I won't be giving you my adress if that's what you're asking, but no, I live with my friends."

"Friends as in your bestfriend Mark?"

"You are not supposed to have any problem even if I did," I say curtly.

"That's a no then," he states with a small winning smile.

"You are impossibly bossy."

"Can't argue with that. So, let's get to my last question for now, shall we?"

"Oh yes, please!" I act relieved but as much as I hate to admit it, I feel a twitch of sadness that the conversation will end soon.