Out of all the season, fall defiantly is my least favorite. I know how crazy that sounds. Everybody loves fall for it's colorful leaves, cool weather, and ability to wear scarves and boots everyday, but that stuff just isn't for me. The chilly air begins to seep into the little house that I share with my father, my closet seems to shrink with nothing but a single jacket, and without a car walking to work is a full time job itself.
I didn't grow up in a very white-collar family with silver spoons in my mouth. My mother died when I was twelve and my father was never there much. He was abusive to my mom and me. It was your typical drunken father who hated the mother so therefore he hates the daughter, which was me. I looked exactly like my mother with my long, wavy brown hair, pale blue eyes, and pale skin that covers my too slender figure.
It started when I was around fiver or six. My father would get mad and my mom and I would watch from the corner as he screamed and shouted in her face. I thought nothing of it, it was almost normal, until one night he struck her across the face. It was when I started crying that he noticed me and came after me as well. It hasn't stopped since. I'm now a twenty-two year old woman living at home with my abusive father who still sees me as a child. There are still night when he comes into my room and in the morning I'll notice soreness and some faint bruising…
"Miss?" The cashiers voice pulls me out of my trance. "That will be a dollar even." I reach into my little purse and rummage through until I find a crumbled up dollar in one of the pockets. I had it to her in exchange for the cup of crappy, but hot coffee. I make my way out of the fast food place and step outside into the busy streets of downtown Seattle. I pull my thin cardigan tighter around my chest as a gust of cold wind comes through. I take a sip of my drink and continue to walk to the bookstore where I work. I love books. I have always been a reader. After my mom died reading became a sort of therapy for me. I could get so engrossed in another character's problems and forget about my own reality.
As I walk around the corner, a huge mass slams right into my chest causing the cup to fly out of my hand and my body to spin towards the concrete. I brace for impact when I feel two solid arms wrap around my waist and pull me back up.
"Jesus, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." The voice is deep, smooth. Very manly. I lift my head to see the human who saved me from falling to my death. My eyes lock onto his clear, gray ones. My goodness this man is beautiful. His hair is a dark copper, sticking up in a messy yet styled mess, his cheekbones and jawline are so defined and give his face a strong, masculine structure, his nose is long and straight, his lips are softly curved and plump… he looks like he just walked off a runway.
"Ma'am?" I shake my head back and forth. Was he talking this entire time?
"So-sorry. What were you saying?" I try to ignore the fact that his tightly muscled arms are still around my body. He feels so strong…
"I was asking if you were alright?" He looks at me as if I don't speak English. His musky smelling cologne travels over my face. What is that and why can't I think right now?
"Oh, yes. Yeah, sorry I'm fine. Um, thank you for catching me." I pull away from his embrace. He's wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and a dark gray tie that brings out his eyes. He's holding a briefcase in one had and reaches down to pick up my empty coffee cup with the other. So he's defiantly a white-collar businessman.
"I'm sorry about this. Let me buy you another coffee." He throws the cardboard cup away in a nearby trashcan.
"Oh, no. Don't worry about it." I can't spend any more time with this man. I can hardly think enough as it is. "I'm going to be late for work anyway." I glance down at my wrist and pretend that I'm looking at my invisible watch.
"Well at least allow my the pleasure of knowing the name of the beautiful woman who I almost ran over." Did he just call me beautiful? I must have heard wrong, though my face begins to feel very warm.
"My name is Anastasia." I tell him. Now please let me go.
"Anastasia." I try not to focus too much on the way he says my name. "What a beautiful name. Where did you say you worked?"
Oh, no. I'm not telling him where I work. I need to leave. I begin backing away. "Sorry, I'm already late. Thank you again though!" I turn around and begin to almost sprint down the street. I don't look behind me. I don't want to see his beautiful face look at me with a strange expression. Who was he? I've never had such a reaction to a man before. I'm still thinking about his beautiful eyes as I walk into work when I realize that I never asked for his name.