𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟒, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓 | 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀, 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬.
His skin scraped against stone, curiosity getting the better of him when he found himself following each move of what defined a muse; and the pencil between his fingers glided down on the paper as if it has already memorized every nook and cranny of the brunette neatly shoveling soil to the seeds of Heather she just planted.
Slyly, the woman rolled her eyes, unbeknownst to her onlooker. After further texture has been added to his sketched work—he caught the sunset drifting in her gradient orbs and never thought he could ever be more captivated.
The Greek Statue he hid behind did nothing to subdue his embarrassment, whilst the rouge glow reigning across his cheeks brought him little to no consolation. His throat ran dry due to the glare the lady summoned forth over his poor but helplessly willing soul.
“Bit rude to stare, wasn’t it Mister Storms?”
He must have failed to notice the rusted silver band hugging her finger.
“Sorry Madame. I was… looking at the… Trees?”
That was what made the brunette snort, and the unladylike noise she expelled made his lungs tighten anxiously. Her frown disappeared, replaced with something along of a sarcastic smile. “Of course you were. Don’t you think the dress the tree’s wearing is simply gorgeous? The tree bought it just last week fifty percent off.”
“Again, I’m really, really sorry Madame that my visible observation couldn’t—waver,” He nervously blurted, as much as he wanted to convey that the dress wasn’t the one that lured his attention, “I-I’ll be rid of your sight right away.”
“It’s strange how you own every bit of this property I am stepping on and yet you can’t be cocky to the gardener. I shouldn’t have assumed the wealthy’s philosophy.”
“Heh.. Yes, I s-suppose,” He murmured, “Not Mister Storms—please call me Pierre, Madame.”
“Helena,” She curtly returned to his reply, “Truly a strange one out of the bunch aren’t you. You don’t reek of those cigarettes either.”
“They’re dissipating their lives, slowly but surely,” He deadpanned, “Disturbing that I wouldn’t mind once the process is complete.”
“Merely big talk you’re blubbering,” Helena scoffed, “You really wouldn’t mind when there’s more than a fortune awaiting for you once they’re placed in their graves.”
In a flash his expression withered darkly, and coincidentally out of the corner of his eye, a few petals descended from their respective bud. He wanted to try his best not to show his irritation towards the general aspect of what people think he is waiting for, what he could possibly be waiting for.
He was done expecting for anybody to understand, but it was better to help them understand rather than live misunderstood.
“Fortune decides the fate of the genuine, the genuine agrees for their fate to be sealed by it,” He quietly spoke, “Despite having everything by now, the rich would lunge for war if gold is in it for them.”
“So I take it that’s your Shakespearean explanation for stalking a lady at peace?”
He chuckled. “I ponder what amount of sincerity I still lack to put into words. Goodness, forgive me if you would.”
“Okay, okay,” She laughed, leaving her shovel to stand firmly on the moist dirt, “You should lower your choice of vocabulary next time though.”
“Is that your implication of you’d like for me to approach you again?” A smirk cornered his lips.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰
Romance❝I'm sorry I wasn't your yesterday.❞ Elsa's life was deprived of happiness. Not until she found two strangers; one whose smile can heal any broken hearts out there, and one who was mesmerized by her instead of the stars. Elsa's life was deprived o...
