Chapter 2: Who Are You?
Clarissa laughed and bobbed her head to Simon's words. "Nah, my mom's going to worry. You know how she acts." Her lifelong best friend sighed in disappointment, grabbing his phone in the process. She glanced at her watch absentmindedly, allowing her green orbs to study her current surroundings.
They were in Simon's apartment, technically his mother's. He sat cross-legged on the carpeted ground, a bottle of water tipping from the table beside them. "Alrighty then. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She nodded and gave him a smile before hugging him good night. After the door was shut behind her, Clarissa's stomach begged for a cup of coffee.
She hummed her way down the stairs and outside where snow continued to fall in the city of Manhattan. Clarissa was accustomed to the vivid graffiti that caught many eyes but caused some awe too. The smell of fresh brewed coffee slipped through her nostrils and she sauntered towards the cashier line. "Black coffee." The worker was quite handsome with hazel colored eyes and light brown hair. According to the tag stuck on his uniform, his name was Jordon. He smiled and and handed her the hot mug.
Clarissa thanked him and trudged off, the sky beginning to dark. As she walked down the cement, she thought about her mother who was working nearly endlessly to recieve the cash they needed. She was an artist, one who surely deserved the title but it didn't pay much nonetheless. Her short strides halted at the sight of a hunched figure curled against the brick wall. Her eyes softened. Maybe my struggles aren't really that hard. She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a buck and a few quarters.
Bending lower, she tried to place the cash onto the man's lap when his hand shot up and gripped her wrist. With a horrified yelp, Clarissa attempted to pull away but couldn't move. Then he looked up and she almost gasped. It was the same guy. The same one from last time. "What do you want?" He asked, dangerously slow.
Her breathing fastened. Desperation fell over her already pale features. "I just- I just gave some money." He sneered loudly, his golden locks falling against his forehead. The young man wore a different hoodie, still tattered in a way. His fair gaze was emotionless except for the bit of cold amusement in them that confused her slightly.
"Leave and take your fucking money. I don't need it." His words came back harsh and she winced. Clarissa frowned and he let go of her hand. She took it back rubbing the sting away. He remained sitting there, his head in his arms. For some reason, she stood there numbly knowing the risks but choosing to stay. Where did he live? Was he homeless? On the streets?
Something burst in her chest and she placed her untouched mug a few inches from his feet. Immediately stepping back, Clarissa watched as he stared up only to meet her forest flecked eyes. His eyebrows rose in challenge and then he seemed to notice the hot beverage beside him. She couldn't really tell what he was thinking, his emotions were hidden. "Leave girl. I don't need any charity. I ain't poor." This time his voice was slightly lower, a little thoughtful.
She found herself responding. "It's not charity, just a little help." He shifted around and lied his matted hair against the wall, orbs on the dark but very much alive sky above them.
"What is a girl like you doin' here at night? Do me a favor and leave girl." Clarissa tilted her head in question. There was something that drew her interest towards him. His skin was illuminated by the street lights and his strands glinted in the moonlight. His rugged features were alluring, to anybody really.
"I could ask you the same." At that, he cackled cruelly and met her eyes. He knitted his brow. Then pursed his lips.
"I live here."
They stayed silent. Nobody spoke. She saw him pull out a rather long cigarette and stick it into his lips. Puffs of smoke emerged in the air and she covered her nose from the strong smell. He didn't bother moving away. His eyes were stuck on the sky, the silent killer already performing its job. He blew the exhaust in forms of circles, his lips curling into a soft smirk.
"Smoking kills." She mumbled, kicking at the curb nervously.
He didn't face her. "I'm ready to go." When he uttered those words, she felt the need to leave. Jocelyn would be home now. Clarissa recalled his expressions and had no idea why she decided to stay there with him. She didn't even know him. They were complete strangers who seemed worlds away.
He said something before she left and it repeated in her head as she unlocked her bedroom door.
"I can see it in you. You're wondering about me. Don't. I'm warnin' ya."
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