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Chapter Three | 'Between a Rock and a Hard Place'

A LE X A N D R A | J O N E S

I like to spend my mornings at the Art Museum, which is just down the block from Cane Street. There is one painting in particular that I adore because it holds so deep importance for me. One that made me reflect about my life. It was of a crying woman, with her shadow trailing behind her. It kind of reminds me of myself.

Before I can open my pomegranate seed container, I notice a person settling near me. When I turn left, I see Ares staring at the same image as me.

He has not noticed me yet, which is remarkable given the art museum's emptiness. I continue to munch my pomegranate seeds while pulling my skirt down my legs. What is he doing here? Only a few people know about this hidden painting.

"You, again." His raspy voice was as homecoming tyres upon a gravel driveway.

"Are you talking to me?" I look behind me, no one. It was only the two of us in this room, mostly because no one knows it exists. It was the far one in the corner, I come here and watch the same painting when I am upset.

"Why do you do that?" He still has not looked at me.

"Do what?" I question.

"Why do you always think I'm talking to someone else?" Now, he turns and gives me his full attention. Ares drags me back into the room, his emotions telling him he needs more of a connection, or that I do, though I suppose it is both of us.

In these moments, his eyes are softer than I ever imagined they could be.

Or maybe I read too much rom com? I think that is the answer.

"I'm not used to people speaking to me...especially boys like you." I admit, no harm in telling the truth. Ares wore a black leather jacket, a tight black shirt underneath with black jeans. I could tell black is his favourite colour.

I look down at my outfit, a yellow sundress that covered my entire body except for my arms. I did not own clothes that are revealing. My mother never lets me buy my own clothes, she decides what is suitable for me or not. She makes me wanting to be catholic ten times harder.

"Boys like me. Explain." It felt like a demand, and the way he held himself. He was no boy; this guy is a man. I could tell by his body even, broad shoulders, tall and hunch. My hand begins shaking, as I cover my pomegranate seed with the container lid.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude."

"You draw?"

"Yeah, I am an art major." I smile.

"Can I see your work?" No one has ever offered to go through my work, he asks. I asked Cathy several times, but she claims she does not need to because she already knows it's incredible.

I nod enthusiastically and pull my sketch book from my backpack; I present it to him, and his large hands accept it. I drew away hurriedly when I felt his fingertips skim mine. My skin is buzzing with an electric charge.

He opens the book, nodding as he flips through the pages until he comes to a halt on one. "You have some obsession with Diávolos...?" My eyes widen as he asks. Oh, no! I completely forgot! I embarrass myself by snatching the book from his grasp and stuffing it inside my bag. I stuff the fruit into my bag and sling it over my shoulders.

"I have to go." I rush out of the museum; he is going to think I'm a stalker. I rush my fingers through my hair.

"Ali!" My head shoots up and I see Ares jogging towards me, telling me to keep moving. I push past people who are rushing down the streets for work. Ignore him and keep in mind that he is a bad guy. And he is awkward. And five years older than you. And a guy! I gazed at the ground until an arm slipped around my waist and drew me back.