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Post by ALEKA FERN MORIARTY on Feb 28, 2011 23:35:21 GMT -5
Aleka sighed softly and stepped into the Starbucks, taking a quick glance around, before getting into the lineup. She planned to get her very favourite, sit down, and write for a good long while. instead, she was presented with the fact that her teacher was here, sitting at a table. She grumbled a bit to herself and adjusted her purse, shifting so she was facing the other way. Then again, he could always tell it was her by her legs; as if he had memorized every damn curve of the things. What the hell was his problem? Drawing her in, then pushing her away like she was some plaything for his own personal amusement. It pissed her off to no end, but she couldn't really do anything about it. She had fallen for the asshat of a man. The asshat who wasn't really and asshat. Just acted like one to protect his job. Which she didn't see the big deal about. She was graduating this year.
What would he do once she graduated? Would all those feelings of apprehensiveness just fade away? Would he lose interest altogether? Her eyes darted back to his table for a moment, and she groaned slightly when he glanced up, turning away with a hurmph. No, she knew for a fact that he cared about her. Whether he loved her or not, though... That was the sad part. To think that he'd been leading her on all this time... She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes sleepily, before stepping up to the counter.
"Venti mocha, please." She said to the girl at the counter, before looking around for a place to sit while she waited for her coffee. Once she got it, she sighed and blew on the top, and walked over to Silas' table, pulling his notebook out of her bag.
"I finished it. Thank you, Mr. Michaels." Her voice was monotone. "Your work is nice. I like it. Thanks again." her feet were already carrying her towards the door before he could even say anything.
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Post by silas on Mar 1, 2011 1:23:13 GMT -5
Silas sat stoically at the round table by the window. He was clad in his signature pair corduroy pants, a plaid shirt, and loafers. On the table before him sat a cup of coffee, black. He wasn’t drinking it. It had been sitting there on the table, undisturbed since he’d bought it. His attention had been captured instead by the letter his younger sister had sent to him. Her writing had always been rather ornate, so much so that it could take him hours to read a two page letter from her and ensure that he had comprehended everything. And he was the English teacher. As he finished translating a line of her writing into layman’s terms, he realized that she’d written to him about a brief affair she’d had with a professor. “Ha. Runs in the family,” He muttered dryly. Was Aleka that for him? He wished she would be. He wished that he could kiss her, sleep with her, rid her from his mind. Unfortunately, Aleka was omnipresent in his thought process. He spent more time than was healthy for him thinking about her. The more he pushed her away, the more his mind revolted against him. Reading that tiresome letter was supposed to have been a diversion.
And as fate would have it, there she was- standing right before him. He looked up when he heard her voice and smiled. “Aleka.” But she was not happy to see him. Should he have been surprised? No. Not when he had taken her into his arms and then pushed her away time and time again. The smile faded. He understood her frustration, her anger, perhaps more than she knew he did. He heard the lack of inflection in her voice as she laid the binder on the table. She didn’t want to be near him any longer. What was Silas to do with himself if she truly didn’t want to be near him any longer? He felt that he needed her, almost in the manner that a heroin addict needed his drug of choice. When she wasn’t near him, it was like constant withdrawal. He followed her to the door, catching her wrist in his hand before she could escape him. “Don’t go.”
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Post by ALEKA FERN MORIARTY on Mar 1, 2011 1:47:04 GMT -5
What was he so happy about? She blinked as she tried to get the though of his smile out of her head, before he somehow managed to snatch her wrist up.
Fuck.
She blinked and turned around as he grabbed her, all in one fluid motion. It was like she moved in slow-motion, and her hair bounced and landed in little jittery motions all around her face. Then all she could do was stare at him. In her head, all her mind could think of was one word, and she felt it slip to the tip of her tongue and leave her mouth before she could even stop it. It was enough to bring tears halfway to her eyes.
"Why?" She whispered quietly, looking down at her coffee cup, before looking back up at him. She sniffed slightly and blinked back the little tears, before breathing in deeply.
She let him lead her back to his table and sat down, breathing in deeply again. This sucked. All she wanted to do was go to the couches on the other side and curl up to him while they sipped their coffee. Now she was stuck across the table from him, staring awkwardly at her coffee cup. She didn't know whether to be angry, or sad. She was just... Confused. Really damn confused. About everything.
"I uh... I liked page 43 the best." She pointed to the binder and sighed, looking away from him and around the Starbucks, before closing her eyes and letting her coffee warm her fingertips. There was nothing she wanted more than to tackle him from across the table and tell him how much he meant, how much she... Ugh. This was pointless. She began to grow angry again, but she kept it suppressed with small sips of her coffee.
"Did you need to tell me an assignment or something?" She shrugged.
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Post by silas on Mar 4, 2011 5:41:53 GMT -5
In one moment he’d almost been able to feel her pulse beating within his hand. In another there was only the cold emptiness left after she’d snatched herself away from him. Why? She’d asked him. Why shouldn’t she leave him? Even he knew that he absolutely deserved it. He could see that she was finished with this whole affair and he could not see any lack of reason in her feeling that way. Was she about to cry again? He could feel it. If only she knew what her tears did to him. It was like he was mirroring her emotions, while his body was still raging with his own. “Because I don’t want you to leave me. I never have.” But was that fair? Silas knew he shouldn’t have asked her to stay even then. It didn’t matter how he felt, because this was wrong. He knew that he ought to stop trying to appease his emotions and his senses at the same time. It wasn’t possible.
Now they were sitting at the table, in something like heart-wrenching silence. Really? She liked page 43 the best? As if he had memorized each page of his writing. Was she attempting small talk? It wasn’t going to work. They both knew each other all too well. He didn’t respond to that. He was silent as she looked away from him and began to look around the small coffee shop. Nothing interesting was happening around them. She just couldn’t stand to look at his face. “I think you know that I don’t have an assignment for you,” Silas replied, staring at her. How could someone so beautiful be so full of anger so often? “We can have a conversation can’t we?” About what? He knew what he wanted to discuss, but it felt like the topic was a forbidden one.
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Post by ALEKA FERN MORIARTY on Mar 4, 2011 15:02:01 GMT -5
Aleka couldn't stop herself from staring. He wanted to have a conversation, but ignored her anytime she tried to talk? This man... Not, this boy was becoming a waste of her precious time. She could be getting drunk, and laid right now. Instead, she was here talking to a fool about how he wanted to have a conversation, yet had nothing to say, all at the same time. Why? Oh, right. Because she loved him. Her back hit the back of the chair and she slumped a bit, drinking her coffee, while her "miles and miles" of legs-as he had called them once-crossed over one another. Her hand found the denim of her jeans and she brushed them off as if there had been dust on them, before looking up at him expectantly.
"Well, that's what I just tried to do, and you completely ignored me. If you didn't memorize the pages; open the book and see why I like it so much, or just say, "Oh, sorry. I don't remember what I wrote. Could you refresh my memory?" Because that would have been a good conversation starter." She took a deep breath and rubbed at her cheek.
This was difficult. Why'd she have to choose him, of all people? She sighed and leaned forward slightly, so her elbows were on the table, before looking up at him.
"What did you do last night?" She asked quietly, looking down at her coffee cup. Last night, she had gone to a frat party at one of the colleges. Around two hours in, she was so intoxicated all she could do was sit down and talk about random shit. Until they brought the keg out. Then she did a keg stand. Though it was easier for her to do, since she could just make the beer lighter, and float right into her mouth, she was too drunk to even use her powers properly. She wound up making everyone in the room feel light. Which, if they hadn't already been drunk and felt light as air, could have been really bad.
"My night was pretty boring." She took a long sip of coffee and looked at him, waiting for his answer.
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Post by silas on Mar 5, 2011 4:04:39 GMT -5
Was she really lecturing him about how to have a conversation? He was tempted to say ‘thank you for liking my writing, but quite frankly I don’t care.’ He was extremely certain that she didn’t simply want to discuss his writing either. So of course he’d ignored her. He knew, she knew, that she hadn’t said what she wanted to say. She was there, glazing over the truth of the matter. Surely, pondering what he’d done last night had not been what had almost brought tears to her eyes. Why wasn’t she saying what she felt? He sighed and opened the binder for the sake of complaisance. “Page 43, she says.” He read over the first paragraph. He remembered it well; a short story about a delusional old mariner who was on quixotic quest in search of his deceased wife. It happened to only be five paragraphs. “Right. What do you like about page 43?” Is this how she really wanted to do this?
“Last night?” He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he thought. He’d done dutiful adult things, like buying groceries and walking his dog and finishing all the papers he’d had to grade. He’d called his aging parents, he’d done the laundry, and he had tried in vain to stop thinking of her. A woman had invited him to dinner a week before then. He’d called and cancelled. . .for various reasons. And now he was here, attempting a conversation with someone who was angry with him at her core, because she wanted more than a conversation from him – Silas conjectured. “I thought of you, of course.” He hadn’t meant to say that. The words had just slipped out, as if his mouth and vocal chords has just operated independently of his brain. Had she heard him? He hoped she hadn’t. “I did some housework. Nothing spectacular.”
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Post by ALEKA FERN MORIARTY on Mar 5, 2011 5:29:28 GMT -5
Now he was just being so damn weird. All Aleka was trying to do was talk to him. It wasn't her fault it hurt with every fibre of her being to look at him; not even in the angry way. Anger was more of a first-defence. Like how her white blood cells attacked any virus in her body, but, along with that, made her ill because of such a high fever rate. She didn't want to be angry at him; she was just protecting herself, since somehow along the line he had waltzed right through this protective barrier she had put up, and just... Infected her. All over. She felt like some stupid kid who didn't even deserve a fighting chance or something. What would he do when she graduated? She looked down at her coffee and sighed softly, as the anger subsided slightly. Being angry wouldn't solve anything. And he was talking again. Fuck, what had he said? He thought about her last night... Why? Her teeth ground into her lip until she felt the taste of blood before opening her mouth to speak.
"Groceries. Hmmm. I got those too. Some kiwi and watermelon; they're my favourite fruits. And I got some tuna and rice paper and more mayo, because I eat mayo like it's my job." She laughed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a real laugh, not one of her forced ones. Maybe it's because she felt better talking about things that mattered; adult things. "My mom called me too. wanted to know if she should wire me some money for prom shit. Like, a dress or whatever people wear to those things." Her fingers raked through her hair and she sighed, shrugging. Her parents didn't bother talking to her most days; she's raised herself at home, and she'd raised herself here. Maybe that's why ages didn't matter much to her. She had forced herself to grow up early so she wouldn't die. Awesome.
"I wasn't even going to go to prom." She looked down at her fingers, curled around her coffee cup like it was the only thing that was keeping her sitting there.
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Post by silas on Mar 6, 2011 16:56:39 GMT -5
He was relieved that she hadn’t responded to what he’d blurted out. Normally she did. Pretending he hadn’t said it would work better for the both of them. He didn’t know why he couldn’t restrain himself. It was like some sort of disease, he had to say what he felt. Since his youth, Silas had always been keen on expressing himself. He couldn’t with her though. Saying anything beyond “you did well on that last assignment you turned in” wasn’t really permissible. So he had to be on his guard, always. And he was always failing. He thought back to that day when she came in and plopped down on his desk, and he saw now that he should have sent her away right then – right when he became conscious of the fact that he would not be able to overcome this temptation. So, it was good that she’d ignored what he’d blurted out.
But this conversation was not the one he wanted to have. They were traipsing over the issue here. She did not care that he’d gone grocery shopping really, did she? How had she even known that he did? It was a bit odd. His brows furrowed for a moment. Kiwi and watermelon were her favorite fruit. Was he supposed to tell her what his were? Was that really what she wanted to know? She let out a laugh, a genuine one, as if this trite conversation was making her happy. It wasn’t making him happy. This was. . .bullshit. And then, he’d caught a hint of something reaching beyond the mundane. It was the way her features had contorted as she spoke of her mother, leading him to make the statement “I assume you’re not close.”
Silas glanced out of the window for a moment. “You should go. It’s not that amazing, but you should see what it’s like. As banal as what I’m saying is; you only get one senior prom.”
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Post by ALEKA FERN MORIARTY on Mar 6, 2011 17:21:24 GMT -5
Aleka sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Close? No. Her and her mom were about as close as the ground to the sky. She shook her head slowly and took a sip of her coffee, looking up at him. Not close was an understatement. She bit her lip and shrugged, biting her lip.
"If living separate from my siblings and family in a completely catered guest house with a maid being my surrogate mother is close, then..." She shrugged and looked away. "We still wouldn't be close." Her voice lowered to a mumble and she looked down sadly, taking in a deep breath. She just wanted to curl up in her bedroom, now. Maybe take a bubble bath; and then sit completely alone, listening to stupid songs that would probably make her cry because all she wanted to do was hang out with Silas and watch movies. She wasn't even into him for sex. She had liked him, probably loved him, long before she even knew what his lips felt like.
When he spoke next, her head snapped up to him, eyes wide. The first part, when he had told her she should go, made her heart jump into her throat. Was he throwing her away again? She bit her lip when he finished his sentence. Oh. He was talking about prom. Her eyes slid closed and she laughed quietly.
"No one asked me, Silas. I can't go without a date, that gives off two impressions." She scooted her chair closer, so she could explain. "Either one; I'm looking for a piece of ass, and don't care who it is, or how I get it..." She held up her index finger, then flicked her middle finger up beside it when she spoke again.
"Or two, I'm a huge loserface who can't even get a date to prom because I've spent my entire time in school not making any friends. Why? Because I spent my entire life not needing anyone." Her bangs fell into her face, and she pushed them back, smiling brightly. "I still don't. But the fact that it's not the second reason, makes it the first reason. And I most definitely don't want to be labelled a slut. So, I might ask one of my guy friends, or just go with a group of equally-lonely girls."
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Post by silas on Mar 6, 2011 18:04:00 GMT -5
And there was depth. Her mother had kept her in a separate house? Wasn’t that practically abandonment? So many things about the young woman who sat before him now were beginning to make sense. In pushing her away from him, perhaps he had led her to feel similar feelings. “I’m sorry.” Not only about the life she’d been forced to lead, but because of what he had done to her. Still, what kind of a childhood was that? Silas still felt the love of his father and step-mother to this day. There was the urge to place his palm to her cheek, lift her face towards his own, and kiss her. He was successful in resisting it this time. He removed his hand from the table and placed it on his lap. “This doesn’t compare at all, in any way whatsoever, but I never really got to know my mother either. I’m told she’s a goddess who descended from the sky and got herself pregnant. I still find it difficult to believe.”
She was talking about prom now. She’d said his name. His first name, not his last name. For some reason it was touching. His name sounded pretty coming out of her mouth. He began to chuckle as she explained to him the dilemma that prom had presented her with. He couldn’t help it. If he was her age, he would have asked her in a heartbeat. “What do you care what their impressions of you are? That’s not like you.” It was true, it wasn’t. He knew, from being the stalkerish old teacher that he was of course. “Besides, high school is almost over. If they label you, you’ll only have to deal with it for a few weeks or so.” And he’d be there to protect her. He would always be, if she’d let him, if he could allow himself. What would happen when she graduated? Would all the illusion go away? Perhaps she would lose interest because the forbiddenness of seeing a teacher would be gone. He would be just a man then; one with a teacher’s salary who would suddenly become too old for her.
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