Chapter 3

Michelle sat, staring at her half-empty glass of water, while Cecily passed wedding plans by Oliver.

"And I think we should seat my aunt Clarice with your uncle Donahue, since they're both single," Cecily rambled on.

"Uh…" Oliver was obviously uncomfortable, but he deserved it…Demanding that Michelle bring her fictitious boyfriend to a party…The nerve! Michelle slumped lower in her seat. She counted the seconds until the lunch was over.

Michelle slammed her bedroom door, threw herself on her bed, and screamed into her pillow. She knew Cecily wouldn't hear her because Cecily was down the street, bragging to her friends about her "date with her fiancée".

Michelle, in addition to her scream, began pounding her mattress with her fists and kicking it like a three year old. When she ran out of air, she ceased the kicking and hitting and sat up. She ran her fingers through her hair, putting each strand in place, and stood. She needed something comforting.

She needed gelato.

Running down the stairs, Michelle grabbed her purse from the banister and slipped into her shoes, ignoring the laces. She left the house and made her way to her favorite café. As she arrived at the café, she waved to her neighbor Kelly. Kelly was also a muggle-born witch, and worked at L'Hiver Crème. Luckily for Kelly, her parents owned the café, so she was guaranteed to not get fired no matter how much she slacked off.

"Hey Meech!" Kelly greeted. "From ze look on your face, you don't need a menu. I'll tell Giffy to make a rose gelato for you." She turned, her long hair wheeling around behind her in a surreal motion, and entered the building. Michelle found a table in the corner of the patio, near the wall. Her usual spot. Kelly emerged moments later with a large bowl of rose gelato. She set the bowl in front of Michelle and sat down across the table.

"So vhat's up, Meech? You look seriously verried." Michelle couldn't help but smile at the girl's accent. Her mother was French, hence the French café, but her father had a cockney accent. Hearing the two mixed together was amusing.

"I'm taking my boyfriend to Oliver Wood's party," Michelle sighed, grabbing her spoon and digging it into the gelato.

"Zat's great, Meech! Vhen did you get a boyfriend?"

"That's just it. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Vell," Kelly leaned on the table, propping her chin in her hand, "it's going to be very 'ard to bring 'im to a party. Vhy does zis Oliver think you 'ave a boyfriend?"

"Cuz I told him I did…"

"Oh? And vhat is zis fictitious person's name?" she leaned forward, her hands clasped, eyes wide in interest.

"His name's-"

"Kelly!!" A woman's voice shrieked out from the building.

"I'll be right back," Kelly whispered, standing. She ran into the building as Michelle sighed.

"Too bad-" Michelle trailed off as she heard one of the other waiters address the man sitting at the table next to her.

"Your check, Mister Oakenvale." Michelle's eyes grew wide. She glanced to her right, peeking at the young man, and nearly choked on her gelato. He was possibly the most attractive person she had ever seen. He had silver hair cut short in the back but long on top, which swept down across his face and into his emerald green eyes. His skin was pale and flawless, and he was dressed in fitted dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt underneath an open green button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, adding a hint of rebellion to the otherwise regal looking man. As Michelle stared, he paid his check and stood. She only realized he was nearly gone when he crossed the street, leaving the café. Michelle sprang to her feet, grabbed her purse and bolted after him.

"Wait!" He ignored her. "Wait!!" Michelle screamed. He turned a corner fifty feet ahead of her. By the time Michelle reached the corner, she found herself standing on a lonely street, with no one in sight. She whipped her head from side to side, scanning for the man, but to no avail. "Just my luck…"

She hadn't taken more than two steps when she heard a horn. Turning, she saw a truck hurtling towards her. But before she could scream, move, or even faint, something collided with her from the side, sending her flying clear into an alley on the side of the street. The truck rushed right past. Michelle groaned, rolling onto her back.

"What is your problem?" The voice was male, American, and condescending.

"My problem?" Michelle glared at the source of the voice to see the man from the café.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" the man demanded.

"I'm uh…Michelle. Michelle Petty. And you?"

"Silver Oakenvale. What were you thinking, standing in the middle of the street?"

"You're American."

"Yes, you're extremely observant. Now what's wrong with you?"

Michelle could only stare.

AN: Oh ho ho!!! The plot thickens! What do you all think of this latest development? Let me know!! And if you'd like to be kept up-to-date on my story updates, follow me on twitter! /kschultze