Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HEAVY RAINpoured outside, sheets of water falling onto the dark pavement and various coloured umbrellas. It matched Rory's stormy mood perfectly as she slipped on her jacket and a pair of boots. Luke scampered at Rory's feet, trying to eagerly tell her that he wanted to experience some affection from his owner. His head rubbed against her legs as he mewed softly. She knelt with a smile, stroking the top of his head.
"When I get home, my boy." Rory cooed, putting on a smile for her cat. Her mood was still dampened from the horrible turn of events the night before, with her neighbour closing his door in her face. She couldn't believe the audacity her neighbour had, not even providing an introduction. All she got was a shitty apology and a door in the face.
Rory had hoped that her first interaction with her new neighbour could be something they could laugh about over coffee in time. But she was still fuming, not sure why this had gotten under her skin.
He probably thinks he has pretty privilege, Rory thought bitterly, stepping outside of her apartment and locking the door. With her keys in her pocket and her phone and a mask in hand, Rory set off for the elevator. She had a plan for the day, to retrieve any mail and to find a job. She was lucky she had some inheritance money in a bank account to start her off in Brighton, but Rory knew it wouldn't last forever.
She took the empty elevator down to the lobby, put her mask on, and crossed the room to where the mailboxes sat against the wall. Rory fished out her key and opened the small compartment, to find a few bills and some junk mail. As she sifted through the vanilla envelopes, she saw someone in her peripheral vision open the mailbox next to hers. Rory tilted her head slightly and widened her eyes as they landed on her neighbour.
Fantastic.
A black mask covered the lower half of his face and Rory watched him with narrowed eyes as he looked through his mail. He had stacks of letters in his arms. Rory quirked an eyebrow up as her neighbour turned to face her. As his eyes landed on Rory, they widened with surprise and the letters fell out of his arms, floating down to the floor rapidly.
As he scrambled to pick up the letters, Rory begrudgingly knelt to help with the mess. As she stacked the thick and decorative letters in her arms, she awkwardly handed them to number 16 (this was her new nickname for him) and shoved them into his gloved hands.
"Uhm...you're number 14 right? The girl who came to my door last night?" He asked a hint of curiosity in his voice.
But he knew exactly who she was, her eyes were unforgettable to him. The depths of forests and fields didn't even compare to the hues of her eyes. She could capture stars in her irises and hold the shining beauty without fail.
"Yeah. The girl who complained about the noise? You slammed the door in my face," Rory replied sullenly, gaining a boost of confidence. His face flushed red and clutched the letters tighter.
"I am sorry about that. About the noise, the door, everything."
He sounded genuine this time, instead of the frantic and distracted state he seemed to be in the night before. Rory studied his face, with pursed lips hiding behind her mask.
"Apology accepted," Rory admitted, a hint of sympathy hiding in her voice. Part of her didn't want to hold the grudge and move on with her life. It was a trivial event but it still nudged her uncomfortably in the gut. Number 16 held out his hand and Rory glanced down at the black gloves hesitantly.
"I'm George Davidson," he greeted. Rory took his hand and shook it before letting go of his glove quickly.
"I'd offer my name but I'm not sure we're on that basis yet," Rory replied smoothly, more confidence overtaking her. George's eyes widened, "We're not on a name basis? But I just offered you mine."
"And it's a nice name," Rory replied truthfully, pretending that her face wasn't a slight shade of pink. "But you still slammed a door in my face. So, I'll let you figure out my name. My first name, at least."
"You're serious?" George asked, completely dumbfounded. This girl was more complicated than he thought. He should have asked for her name the night before.
"I am, have a lovely day though," Rory said, turning to walk out of the lobby, a small, hidden smile dancing on her lips. George caught up to her and matched her step, to which Rory raised her eyebrows at the action.
"M-maybe I can show you around the city?"
The sudden offer caught Rory off guard. She had to admit that part of her wanted to accept, to live up to her old expectations of becoming friends with George. But she made the quick choice to hold this grudge, which allowed her the high ground in whatever position they held together.
So she deflected him.
"How do you know I'm new to the building?" Rory asked suspiciously. George's face heated up again and he tugged on the collar of his sweater uncomfortably.
"I've never seen you before. And I'd think you'd complain about the noise if you were already living in the building," George answered truthfully. Rory was studying him intently and it was too intense for his liking. This girl was not like anyone he had ever met before. But it just made him more curious about her.
"Fair," Rory admitted. "But I grew up here, so I know my way around."
"You have an American accent," George pointed out impulsively. Rory sighed, just wanting to leave the building. She didn't like how his dark eyes met hers, because she didn't want to break his compelling gaze. Rory found her own eyes focusing on the floor, the lobby door, the mailboxes, anything but him. She was aware she was being cold and harsh, but there was a time and place for everything.
"Yes, well, spending most of your early and current life in America would do that," Rory explained hurriedly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really should go."
Before George got to utter another word, Rory rushed out of the building and into the September wind, the rain still falling steadily. George stood frozen in place in the lobby, the letters of fans still clutched in his arms.
She was some girl, but that made him think about her even more.
Meanwhile, Rory fought the brisk weather on the sidewalks of Brighton, cars passing by as windshield wipers splashed the chilly rain away. She was smiling underneath her mask, secretly proud of how she handled her second interaction with Number 16 or George.
She had no idea what confidence overtook her, not allowing the man her name. But she was still bitter and resentful towards the door slam incident. So, she took matters into her own hands. She held an amusing position over him, one where she had something that he couldn't even grasp.
