I did not like him.
I did not like the way he talked so much, like he was hiding a secret message beneath all those words, but it was not a pleasant or beautiful secret. There was something sour that fermented behind all that distraction. I could smell it, like a wolf does a wounded deer.
I did not like the way he made me feel looked at. Worse was the way he made me feel for the very first time in my life that I wanted to be looked at.
Yet despite my intense dislike of him, I could not tear myself away. In the moment, I attributed it to the fascination with someone just slightly older than me. I was admittedly impressed with how sure of himself he seemed; maybe it was due to his life on the streets (as he claimed), which hardened and wisened him faster than my comfortable life did me. But I hoped it was just age, and thus something I could look forward to embodying in just a few seasons more. I wanted his confidence, and his edge, and his fire.
Fire that was in that moment directed at me, which make no mistake I was keenly aware of. It drew me in, like a moth and also an idiot. Later, after we parted ways, I would cringe as I played and replayed every single painful second of that encounter.
I tossed the earring back at him with a shrug. “Keep it.” I said, more forcefully than my first rejection, hoping he would shut up about it already.
As he talked, and talked, and talked, (such a bounty of words! A shame they were mostly empty. Shiny, pretty things that would crumble to dust at the slightest breeze.) I mostly just nodded curtly and stared and leaned in slightly. Furfur at my side was wary but puzzled, I think he too did not know what to make of this strange boy and his many words. His warm, soft touch at my foreleg seemed to be the only thing keeping me from floating away like one of those paper lanterns with the candles in it.
“Well, you don’t have to use formalities with us.” The ‘us’ I referred to was my entire family: me, sister, mother, father. I had spent such a vast majority of my time with my family unit, it did not occur to me I should define whom I spoke of. They were an extension of me, or me an extension of them. “We don’t care about any of that.” I actively rejected whatever expectations I sensed society had of me.
“My mom’s always right, too,” I confided in him softly. “It must be a mom thing.” I rolled my eyes. I wanted to add “it’s a hundred times worse when she’s a queen,” but I absolutely hated to remind anyone of my status.
There was something different in his voice when he accepted my offer of food. Something... genuine? But I had not found the rest of his rambling statements to be feigned, so I don't know what the difference was. I shrugged it off. “Come on, then, Ezra.” I stepped forward and past him, down the quiet alley and into the more crowded street. I absolutely hated the way my heart raced when we almost brushed shoulders in the narrow alleyway; I was very careful to not look at him, mostly because I was afraid he would see how vulnerable I was. It seemed like the worst thing in the world would be to know what effect he had on me, although I had the withering feeling he already suspected it.
Although-- my pounding heart wondered-- maybe I wanted him to see. I don’t know. I seemed to want two very different things at the same time, and all that wanting was terribly uncomfortable. All at once I wanted to be alone but I deeply, desperately did not want to leave.
I ducked lithely among the crowded streets and dipped through shortcuts most didn’t know of. I did not technically grow up on the streets, but I knew them almost as intimately as if I did. Naturally, as competitive as I was, I set a fast pace and kept a careful eye over my shoulder at the boy who called himself Ezra. Darting around as quickly as we did, it was difficult to keep a conversation. A blessing for my tired ears. “Do you like Halversons?” I grunted as we dodged a group of wide-eyed Terrastellan ladies. They reeked of perfume that made me nauseous, but they were admittedly quite pretty with their colorful scarves and bronze-worked jewelry. I shot a casual glance at Ezra to see if they caught his attention. (Again, I was acting a complete buffoon, and later would scold myself for every stupid, whimsy, ridiculous thought and feeling that crossed my mind.)
My question was more or less rhetorical. Halverson and Daughters (formerly Halverson and Sons but renamed when Halverson junior only sired fillies), known simply as Halversons was literally loved by everyone. I hadn’t met a single soul who didn’t like the neighborhood bakery. So I drove us onward, closer and closer to the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked sweet bread.
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@Reinhart <3
