Chapter 3

The Poem

17 years ago

2012

True to his word, Christian behaved himself while we're inside his car. I expected him to be a dirty talker. There have been rumors circulating in school that he's quite the bad boy who seduces every girl he talks too. That might be hyperbolized but still, it made me uncomfortable to be with him at first.

Looking at him now, his hand grips his steering wheel relaxingly. My eyes on the other hand, darted to the sight outside. The city flashed before my eyes and I think there is nothing as beautiful as New York in a cerise dusk. Silence may have surrounded me and Christian but that doesn't mean that I'm uncomfortable. In fact, this is far more relaxing.

"You mind if I play some music?"

"No, I don't," I smile at him.

He smiles back and without any warning, A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton plays. He sings to the rhythm like a boy singing his favorite tune. I look at him as if he just came from another planet.

"Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound!" He sang and his head bobbed at the catchy piano portion. He seemed so carefree and acted as if no one was watching him.

Look, I don't know why but while I was watching him bop to the music and listened to his voice crack in between the rhythms, I realized that maybe there is more to him than the rumors around. Maybe he is beyond his reputation.

All I heard was that he is this very handsome and rich sixteen-year old son of two CEOs who didn't take school seriously. He switched girlfriends faster than changing clothes and his nights are filled with drinks and smokes. But I have never heard a story of him singing to the rhythm of A Thousand Miles. I was struck by the thought and fact that there is way more to the people than the gossips that try to define who they are.

Before I knew it, I sang along with him and bobbed my head and threw my hands in the air: "If I could fall into the sky, do you think time can pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight! Nananana…" We looked at each other, laughing at how silly we seemed to be.

When the song ended, an Eminem song played and he lowered the volume.

"So, you like that song?" I ask him with a smirk.

He gives me that "duh" expression. "Anastasia, you'd be deaf if you don't like that song."

That caught me off guard. He just called me Anastasia.

"What?" Christian asked confused.

"You just called me Anastasia?"

"That's your name, isn't it? Or shall I call you Monica? Erica? Rita? Tina? Sandra? Mary? Jessica?" I laughed at that. Those are the names mentioned in the song, Mambo No. 5

When my laugh faded, I asked him, "No, I just thought that you didn't know who I am."

"How can I not know you? You're Mia's best friend and I'm your Dad's favorite student!" His brows wiggled at the last thing he mentioned. Right, my father dislikes him bigtime. He always acts out in class and my dad's forced to pass him because of his privileges.

"Yeah, but when I'm around your house, you're making out with someone by the living room."

"You are jealous, huh?" Christian playfully smirks.

I grimaced. "What? No! Why would I be jealous?"

"You're blushing," he shamelessly smiled.

"Well, my cheeks automatically turn red when I've been accused of a malicious rumor."

He raised his brow, "Malicious? What's malicious about that? Your being jealous because the guy you like is making out with someone else is totally not malicious!"

"Whoa there!" I raised my hand in the air and told him, "Mr. Grey, I am sure as hell that I don't have a crush on you, okay? Whatever made you think like that, just forget it. There is no way that's true."

He burst out laughing. No, in fact, he guffawed. If only the windows were rolled down in his car, the whole city of New York would hear him.

"Relax, Ana. I was just messing with you."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," I rolled my eyes.

"No, really. You look so cute when you're blushing," he squeezed my cheek and I stared incredulously at him. I would have said something in response but he sounded as if he really meant what he said. For some reason, it scared me because I really didn't want to have a crush on him. This boy is heartbreak personified and I'd be a fool to get close to his clutches.

I cleared my throat and decided to change the subject, "Christian, uhm . . . just take the road here and turn left . . ." I gave him the direction to my drop off location.

"You want me to drop you off at Seward Park?"

"Yes, drop me off there and I'll just walk to my house which is just twelve-minutes away."

"Nonsense. I'll drive you home and make sure you get there safely."

"Really, Christian. I don't think you'd be comfortable going to the Lower East Side."

He was taken aback and he looked as if I offended him.

"Why the fuck won't I be comfortable?"

"I know your mother would be uncomfortable. I've asked Mia to come over but she told me that your mom would kill her if she steps foot in the area of working-class people." Now that I've said it out loud, I've realized how awful that sounded and that shouldn't have surprised me at how Mrs. Grey behave awhile ago. She only likes the rich, that's all.

Christian utterly looked disgusted but didn't seem surprised. "Well, fuck that! What's wrong with being middle class? And is it really true that your neighborhood doesn't have people are rich? Forgive my mother, Ana but she can be rude and condescending."

I stared at him. He looked so stressed out, completely different from his playful self a while ago.

"Hey, don't mind it. It's okay. I didn't take it personally."

He rolled his eyes and said, "I just hate it when my parents do that, you know. How can they degrade people that quickly? These people are working honorably to provide for their needs. I don't think anyone should be treated like that at all and just because they aren't as rich as we are, doesn't mean that they should be looked down on."

After he said that, I found myself respecting him. I looked at him in adoration, not because his naturally handsome, but because he seemed so humble for someone who has been raised by multi-billionaire parents. I bet he didn't even feel arrogant just because he owns an Aston Martin.

"Now, tell me where your home is," he practically commanded as he drove by the Seaward Park.

I told him the directions and he listened. It didn't take long until we've reached our apartment building. He parked in front and I was ready to say goodbye.

"Ana," he was the first to speak and he sounded so serious.

I turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry about my mother. Please don't think of Mia that way. She's gullible and I bet she believes my parents' horror stories about working class neighborhoods. I am also sorry about earlier. If I didn't come over, my mom would have insulted you for being Mr. Steele's daughter."

"I'm glad you came then," I said and his face softened.

"What were you doing with Mia?" He asked.

I know I should have gotten out of his car by now but it just felt so good to talk to him.

"I wrote a poem and I'm going to submit it tomorrow for the school literary book."

"May I read?"

I took the yellow paper out of my backpack and gave him the handwritten one. The one I'll submit has already been printed out by Mia this afternoon. Yes, this aspiring writer is lucky to have a best friend who can give her free printing services.

Christian took the paper and began the read.

I told him, "The theme is all about the city and I decided not to write a poem about city lights or the skyscrapers. I wanted a fresh angle and—"

"Shh . . . I'm reading," he silenced me in the best way. I didn't mind being interrupted just as long as someone wanted to read my poetry.

He looked at the poem for what seemed to be forever and his expression seemed . . . emotional?

"Christian? What do you think?"

"Can I keep this?" That took me by surprise.

"Yeah, that's yours now. The draft. I have the printed out copy here anyway. Uhm, I need to go now. Thanks for the ride, Christian."

He was left staring at my poem and I silently got out of his car. Before closing the door though, he lowered his head and said, "The poem's beautiful."

"Thank you," that truly meant a lot to me.

"Can I give you a ride again?" He asked again. It was so random and I didn't even have time to absorb what he said.

"Yes," it was almost as I answered automatically.

I stood there standing like a fool and watched him drive back to his home.

-page break-

I can't seem to get my mind off the car ride home with Christian. Conversation just felt natural when it's with him and I didn't want to admit this but I am almost too excited for another car ride home with him.

Out of all the things I can't afford, it was his face when he read my poem. I turned my lamp on and took out the printed copy of my poem.

The City

by Ana Steele

The city sings the song of people's steps,

the tempo of their heartbeats banging on their chests.

Hundreds of faces flashing along with time,

in a one-way street I'll never call mine.

There's a choir of cars screaming at the red traffic light—

stuck like people waiting for life's green sign.

The city is loud.

The city never loses its crowd.

But all of these people are merely just clouds.

Passers-by with wounded hearts and camouflage colognes,

The city never told me that in a sea of people, I'd still feel alone.

I wrote this purely out of fiction, but what if Christian felt this way? I don't know why but my heart hurt at the thought of that.

I appreciate all the reviews from last chapter. :) Feel free to message me if you have any questions about the story.

Thank you for reading! – Cloud