Chapter Three

4.8K 101 31
                                    

Disclaimer: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.

A WEEK LATER

It was a windy day, and Vivienne felt a shiver that ran through her spine. The sun was out, but it did nothing to warm up the chill that filled the air.

She walked through the street, relishing in a few hours of freedom before she would spend the rest of the afternoon locked up in her apartment to study. After all, her exams were coming up soon and she felt only half ready.

In her arm, a brown paper bag sat tightly in the nook of her elbow. It was practically empty, but filled with the few groceries that she deemed necessary enough to spend the money on.

As she started to walk home, she turned the corner and began to walk an unusual route to try and stretch out the walk as much as she could. In doing so, she began to walk past a couple of basketball courts that seemed scattered with a few people. When she nearly reached the end of the street, she heard a loud whistle behind her.

She spun around and saw group of figures standing ominously up against the wall of the court. She squinted in the sun and let out an exasperated sigh and she recognised them. The Jets.

Quickly, she tried to turn and pretend like she hadn't seen them, but it was too late.

"Hey!" a commanding voice snapped.

She looked back, and saw one of them walking up towards her, the bright sunlight blocking her vision, only allowing her to see a shadowy outline. She turned away once more and began to speed walk down the rest of the street towards her building. She heard whoever it had been leaning against the chain link fence, probably watching her go. She'd hoped that maybe that she'd made a hasty enough escape that none of them would be inclined to follow her, but she quickly realised she was wrong once she turned the corner and heard the sound of someone jogging after her.

Scrambling for her keys, she wasn't fast enough when she eventually reached the entrance to her building to get inside before she heard a voice behind her.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you."

Defeated, she turned on her heel and faced her stalker. It was the skinny one she remembered - the one she now knew as Riff. He walked towards her and stopped just a few feet away, eyeing her. He was taller than she'd seen the first night. His face was angular and sharp, with a mouth that seemed as if it could have always been either a state of smirking or scowling.

"What?" she asked, sounding more curt than she had intended.

Riff raised his brow. In the light of day, he didn't seem as intimidating as he had when she'd first seen him. Although, that didn't necessarily make her any less weary now he was here - standing in front of her in the small alley that led to the shabby door of her building.

"You ignorin' us?" he asked, his voice laced with a teasing tone that made him sound more youthful. "That's kinda rude, y'know."

"Yeah, well, I guess that makes us about even in offensive behaviour." She gripped her grocery bag so tightly she thought it might burst open. "What do you want with me now? I already fixed up your buddy and told him to come back."

"I know. I just wanted to get a real look at ya."

"Why?"

Riff took a step forward and began to circle around her, watching intently as he did so. She kept her glare fixed on him.

"You're kinda pretty for a nurse," he suddenly said. His eyes ran up and down her and she almost felt bashful. It wasn't the first time a guy had looked at her this way, but it had been the only time one had been so forward. He looked up and caught her eye, holding her gaze for longer than usual. She had to look down after a few moments just to break the stare.

A New Way of LivingWhere stories live. Discover now