Someone Like Hugh -Draft Complete And EDITING-

Chapter Four:

Hugh's POV:

"Your name is Amelia, right?" I spoke looking down at the woman in front of me. She was at least a head short than me. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you, but in all honesty, my name means "work". There's not much beauty in that," she chuckled softly. She still stood with her back pressed against the wall.

"Sorry for shoving you so hard, it was a reflex," I mumbled. "I just needed to not be seen, and in that moment I didn't want you to fall, dragging you in the opposite direction seemed like a fair way to keep you on your feet and hide."

"It's alright, I understand. I have to run into the store here, would you like to come with me, or would you prefer to hide my car?" she asked thoughtfully.

"I think if I keep my hood up and keep my distance from the cashier when we check out I'll be fine," I smiled at her. "What is this event you were talking about for tonight?"

"My mother likes to have everyone congregate at our house when she can, to show them how superior she feels she is," she explained as we entered the store. "We didn't have much when I was little, but now that she does, she likes to keep up appearances."

"That must be rough," I spoke thoughtfully. It felt like there was a lot more to the story than she was telling me, but I didn't push the issue.

"It can be, but that's just how things are some times. I won't waste energy fighting the battles that can't be won. I'll just keep working toward a better future for myself."

"That's an awfully mature outlook on life," I smiled. "You seem like an old soul."

"It's impolite to call a lady old," she teased. "Especially since I'm the same age as you."

"That's not creepy or anything, how do you know my age?" I teased.

"Lol half the articles about you start off as "Hugh Hunt, male 28, native of Lakewood" blah blah blah. Plus you're a local legend since you come from here. Your news stories are everywhere," she laughed. I couldn't help laughing too.

"And if there was a news article about you, how would it go?" I asked with a chuckle. For a moment the atmosphere gold cold and she froze as if unsure to answer.

"There wouldn't be one about me," she spoke in a flat tone. I felt like I had touched on something deep and personal and decided to let it go.

I looked up at the bottles of liquor on the shelf. "Who names half of these?" I asked jokingly. "Blanche Trou?" I read off.

"There is no way there is a wine with that name. You have to be messing with me," she turned and reached out toward the bottle I was staring at. As she did, she stood on the tips of her toes and I caught her scent. Outside the wind had been blowing, but in here, it was strong.

She smelled of fresh strawberries, coconut, hibiscus, and maple syrup. I almost wanted to wrap my arms around her and breathe it in, but that would be weird. She carefully grabbed the bottle, wincing in pain as she lifted her arm. "I stand corrected," she smiled. "White hole. I'm getting two. My family doesn't speak French, it would be like our own little joke," she laughed.

"Did you hurt your shoulder when I yanked you into the alley?" I asked her, reaching out carefully toward her shoulder.

"No, I was already a bit sore. I'm fine," she smiled softly.

"How did you get hurt?" I asked her.

"I'm clumsy, that's all," she smiled, but something didn't seem right.

I didn't want to push the issue, she and I had barely met. It would be insane to push her to talk to me about everything.