Ian's First Attempt to Woo One Amy Cahill
It was a hot and humid day, and while most people would have been at home or shopping malls, where air conditioners were, Ian Kabra was pacing in the driveway of one of the largest homes in Boston. If a spectator were to have passed by him, he would have surely gotten some weird looks and perhaps even a call to the police due to his constant muttering. Fortunately, the house was in a rather remote area, so Ian did not get arrested.
"You can do this," he was telling himself over and over again. "You are a Kabra. You are confident. You have attempted murder before. This is nothing."
Just as he finally worked up the courage to walk up to the door, it flung open.
He blinked.
"Ian?"
He nearly died when he heard her voice. It was melodic and sweet, just like humming birds gathering nectar on a warm day like this. Her face was the optimum of perfection, what with her lovely cheekbones and perfect symmetry. Her hair was beautifully braided into the French style and made him want to run his fingers through it. And last but the most wonderful, lavishing, gorgeous aspects of her were her jade green eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Amy asked him rudely, interrupting his train of thought.
"Oh, right," he muttered. Clearing his throat, he began his thoughtfully written out speech. "Amy!" he cried, getting down on one knee and flourishing a bouquet of roses in her face. "Forgive me! That time in Korea was nothing!"
She glared incredulously at him. "Ian. You left me in a cave to die. I don't think it was 'nothing.'"
"Don't you believe in second chances?" he said desperately.
"No," she said bluntly.
"But you're a Madrigal!"
"And you're a Lucian. Now leave."
He scrambled up, arms flailing wildly and the flowers flew out of his hands and attacked her face.
"Ow!" she squawked. "What the he-"
"Profanity, darling," Ian hastily interrupted her while trying to brush red petals from her face.
"What's your problem? Why are these so sharp?" she asked, brushing him off and clutching at her cheeks.
"Amy, they're roses. What did you expect?" Ian stated in an obvious tone.
"And it didn't occur to you to dethrone them before giving them to me?" she snarled.
"No?"
She shoved him out the door while still picking thorns out of her cheek. "Now I'm really not going to forgive you."
"Wait!" he called before she shut the door completely.
"What?" she asked, irritated.
"How about a date?"
"Goodbye Ian."
He stared at the shut door before shouting, "I won't be giving up that easily!"
There was no answer.