a tale of two cities. // h.s

3

i was up in new york chasing panties, getting dome.

"Sorry for making you get home this late. Hope me walking you here makes up for it." He shrugs, like he already knows it made up for it.

"Well, you were walking this way anyway, so..." He chuckles. "I appreciate it." I smile, folding my arms across my chest, a useless effort to warm me up.

"No, I appreciate it. I'll put these fifty dollars to good use." He pats his pocket and all that catches my attention is how nicely his ear piercings fit him, which is ridiculous, why focus on that when his face is right in front of me. About the fifty dollars, it didn't take much persuasion for him to take them. At first he said he wouldn't take them because he hadn't earned them. Around the third time of me saying I didn't need them, he took them, with a grave expression. He felt they didn't belong to him but he needed them.

He was very open about everything, like he had no reason to lie about a thing. He mentioned that he was was from Queens but was staying at a friend's house here in The Bronx while he got things together.

"Okay, well... have a safe night." I murmur. I wasn't gonna lie, I was kinda hoping he would walk me all the way up the steps leading to the apartment building, not because I enjoyed talking to him, although I did (lots), but because it simply scared me every time. The graffiti all over the cement walls along the stairs and the darkness waiting at the top made me run every single time. And now? It's 15 minutes past 10, not the latest time but dangerous enough.

"You too, well what's left of it." He gives me his hand to shake and as soon as I touch his not too warm gloves, he places his lips on it. No, it wasn't one of those romantic kiss things they do in the movies where it all seems planned out and like they do it because they're supposed to. This seems genuinely real. Like he hadn't thought it out, just went for it because he felt like it.

It probably would've been cuter if my hands weren't frozen and I could've actually felt something, but it is what it.

**
"I'm home."

"Finally! Where have you been mami?!" My mother drastically raced towards me, leaving everything in her kitchen unattended.

"I got off a little later than usual."

"A little later than usual? Even if you had, you wouldn't be coming home this late." She wipes her hands on her apron before taking the bag off my shoulder and leading me to the couch. With Stella, 'this' sounded like 'these', 'contacts' sounded like 'kòn-tacts', 'good' sounded like 'goooooood', 'amazing' sounded like 'ah-maze-eeng', 'yes' was a 'jessss' and 'lucky' was 'low-key.' She was Colombian of course, and because of her body, high school had been a constant 'Whoo, how old is your sister?' , even though she's a lot tanner than me. Thanks for being so pale, dad.

I had to come up with an excuse fast. It's not that I didn't trust her, but with her, everything was always a lot more exciting than it had to be. "There was a uh... A fight at the subway?" Wow, that needed a load more of confidence.

"A fight?!" Her light brown eyes light up at me. "Were you involved?! Ailen I already told you where to grab the bitch and where not to! Did you--" oh my god.

"Mom I didn't fight!" And I never will. It's just not in me. As hard as I'd tried to stick up for myself, I always came out feeling embarrassed. Not wanting to remind myself of why I couldn't have inherited Stella's strong character, always standing up to things, not just for herself but for me as she put it 'my whole world', I try to get up but she stops me.

"Oh...well good. The subway's a terrible place to fight too, I mean someone could get like thrown into the tracks or something.." She says not all that seriously.