The number was etched into my head, but I didn't know what to do about it. I was just passing through this state, and Bella was just one of countless humans.
I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Luckily my last victim had a hefty wad of cash on him.
Bella was just another human, but she wasn't scared.
What was point of contacting her anyways? She was just one human, but I wanted to see her again, to see that smile, those brown eyes, and those damn subtle curves that kept coming back to mind. Humans usually didn't attract me, but something about her, maybe her remarkable absence of fear...
So two days later I called her from a store's phone. Our conversation was short and I somehow found out that the city I was in was called Seattle. She wanted to meet for coffee- a foul smelling liquid that once sustained me.
We met the next day at the coffee shop, one of the many that littered this city.
She was lovelier than when I last saw her, and her smile was brighter. It was such a novel feeling, not having someone automatically fearing me…
"So do southern men tend to always wear the same thing day in and out?"
"Pardon?" I asked while looking down at myself.
"You were wearing the same thing when we met." Such a strange human...
"What makes you think I've been wearing this the whole time?"
"The buttons on your shirt." She reached towards me and I refrained from recoiling, not used to others willingly approaching me. Bella must have seen something in my eyes because she moved back. "You had missed the same button last time." I looked down at the flannel shirt I had picked up from a clothing line some years back. I thought back on when I had first put it on. I had been running while buttoning up and had stopped midway to climb up a ridge before resuming my buttoning. I suppose I missed the button then.
"It's a bad habit I suppose." I said while fixing my shirt. "I assure you I'm very clean. Feel free to smell me if you don't believe me." I offered while grinning.
"Well despite looking like a hobo you do smell nice." Her face turned red at a surprising rate and she tried to cover it up by taking a sip of coffee.
"You have a way with back handed complements."
"I hadn't meant it like that." She mumbled.
"Which part did you not mean? The complement or the backhanded part?" Somehow her blush grew darker.
"You knew what I meant. It's not my fault you're so sketchy, pulling women into changing rooms and pressing them against walls…" She let the sentence meander off.
"Doesn't that make you a bit 'sketchy' as well, meeting up with said man?"
"I know you didn't hurt me even though you had the chance."
"And here you are giving me another chance to hurt you." I showed off my teeth with a malicious smile, but once again she was not scared. "For all you know I'm a serial killer."
"Are you?" I took a slow sip of my coffee while looking at her, my face completely emotionless. Her disregard for my unsettling stare annoyed me, especially when she began laughing. I put a few bills on the table.
"Come on. Let's get out of here." I said while standing up and grabbing her hand. I pulled her up and she bumped against the table, knocking over my nearly full cup of coffee.
"Hey!" She said indignantly, but didn't try to pull her arm out of my grip. I said nothing to her until we were outside. Despite me dragging her into an alleyway she didn't panic or scream.
I wonder what's going to happen in the alleyway... Guesses?