Date and Tension

After a comfortable, but not necessarily intense, dinner date, Damian maneuvered his car into a parking spot in front of the apartment building. He turned off the engine and glanced over at Nora with a friendly smile.

"Well, here we are," he said, his tone easy and casual. "That was a lovely evening."

Nora returned his smile, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie with this man who had purchased her paintings and become her first date in ages.

Damian tilted his head and leaned back in his seat, his expression warm and inviting. "So, when am I going to see you again?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eye. "I mean, I don't want to be pushy, but I'm pretty sure there are a few more places in town that could use a dose of your charm."

Nora laughed, feeling genuinely flattered by his words. "Well, I suppose we could do another dinner," she said with a smile.

"Another dinner, huh?" Damian replied, his grin widening. "Alright, I think I can handle that." He reached for his phone and held it out towards Nora, the contact screen already pulled up. "Why don't you go ahead and put your number in there? That way I can give you a call and we can set something up."

Nora took the phone, her fingers dancing across the keypad as she typed in her information. "Alright," she said as she handed it back.

Damian pocketed his phone and opened his car door. "Great," he said as he stepped out. "I'll give you a call soon, Nora. And don't forget, I'm really looking forward to that next dinner."

Nora stepped out of the car as well, turning to face him. "I'll be waiting for that call," she said, giving him a friendly wave. "Thanks again for a lovely evening."

As Damian and Nora said their goodbyes, a figure emerged from another car, entering the parking lot at almost the same time. It was Alexander, his face a mask of stoicism as he caught sight of the duo. His dark hair seemed to ruffle in the slight breeze, his tall frame moving with an almost predatory grace.

Alexander's eyes swept over Nora and Damian, the silence between them weighted with unspoken emotions. The bag in his hand, filled with God knows what, swung idly at his side, its contents rustling gently.

Damian, perhaps sensing the tension in the air, cleared his throat and made a gesture of greeting towards Alexander. But his smile was weak, betraying the awkwardness of the situation.

Alexander, for his part, seemed completely unconcerned with whatever civility Damian was attempting. His response was a dismissive wave of his free hand, accompanied by a muttered, "Oh, please." He turned and strode towards the apartment building, his gait purposeful and brisk.

As Damian watched Alexander disappear into the apartment building, a slight furrow formed between his eyebrows. "That guy seemed a little…odd," he said, turning to face Nora. "Who is he?"

Nora forced a smile, though a flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks. "Oh, that's just Alex," she replied, hoping to pass off the tension as nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. "He's my neighbor, living in the apartment opposite mine. He's harmless, really."

With a quick farewell, Nora hurried towards the apartment building, eager to distance herself from the uncomfortable encounter.

Once inside, she immediately spotted Alexander in the dinning room methodically unpacking his toiletry bag. He glanced up, his gaze meeting hers for a moment, before he turned back to his task.

"So, that was your date, huh?" Alexander asked, finally acknowledging Nora with a sidelong glance. He pulled a bar of soap out of the bag, setting it carefully on the counter. "What's his name?"

Nora crossed her arms defensively. "His name is Damian," she said, her tone edging towards annoyance. "And why were you so rude to him?"

Alexander shrugged again, his expression unreadable."I wasn't being rude," Alexander defended himself, his gaze steady on Nora's face. "I just didn't have time to stop and chat."

Nora shook her head slightly, unconvinced. "Still," she said, "it seemed like you didn't want him here."

Alexander sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as if collecting his thoughts.

His expression darkened, a flinty hardness entering his eyes. "You know what?" he said, his voice low and full of disdain. "I don't give a single fuck about Damian, or any random prick you decide to bring into this apartment. I'm not going out of my way to be friendly with some dude who's just looking to get into your pants."

Nora recoiled at his words, her cheeks burning with anger.

"How dare you say that about him!" Nora spat, her voice rising. "You don't even know Damian. He's nothing like that!"

Alexander's gaze hardened. "And how do you know what he's like?" he demanded, his voice every bit as hot as hers. "You barely know the guy."

"Fuck you."Nora spat, The two words hit Alex like a punch to the gut.

Nora fumed as she made her way to her bedroom, muttering a string of curses under her breath. With a hard shove, she slammed the door behind her, the force of it reverberating through the room.

Her hands trembled as she peeled off her clothes, the night's events still playing on a loop in her mind. She could still hear Alex's words echoing in her ears, the hurt and anger they had sparked still fresh in her heart.

Nora stormed across her bedroom, snatching a packet of face wipes from the vanity. Her movements were sharp and aggressive, each swipe across her face a physical manifestation of her anger.

The gentle, citrus scent of the wipes offered no respite from her emotions, and as she scrubbed away the remnants of her carefully applied makeup, all Nora could see was Alex's face, his words still ringing in her ears.

"Dammit," she muttered, her reflection in the mirror staring back at her with contempt.

The stubbornness in her heart refused to yield, even as her mind grappled with the truth of Alex's words. "He doesn't know me," she thought to herself, her jaw clenched in defiance. "He doesn't get to tell me what to do."

In the stillness of her bedroom, a familiar ping echoed from her phone, but Nora didn't flinch. Her focus remained trained on the task at hand, each swipe of the wipe a silent rebellion against the weight of her emotions.