The Girly Watch Remade

Chapter 8 The Girl With Enamel Eyes

A crisp breeze cut through the dry city heat, rustling Brian's golden hair as it swirled down the street. He sat motionless on the outdoor café patio, his blue eyes glazed over and unfocused as he stared unseeingly up at the baby blue sky.

Deep in thought, his fingers coiled loosely around a perspiring glass of ice water. Condensation beaded down the sides, forming a cool ring on the metal table beneath it. Brian paid no mind to the occasional droplet that broke free and trickled over his knuckles.

He remained perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. The cacophony of pedestrian chatter, roaring engines, and distant construction clangs faded into a dull white noise.

Only when the ice cubes gave a subtle crackling shift in the dwindling water did Brian's gaze flick down. He blinked once, slowly, before raising the glass and Taking a long, languid sip of the chilled liquid. It soothed his parched throat as it trickled down, momentarily bringing him back to reality.

his thumb hovered indecisively over his phone screen, the bright display reflecting in his blue eyes. Lyudmila's contact information burned conspicuously under the harsh sunlight – a lingering reminder of the previous nights conversation.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he warred internally, Before he could make up his mind, his thumb slipped, swiping upwards and switching to his contacts list.

Brian exhaled slowly through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in a brief moment of frustration. When they reopened, his gaze immediately landed on the contact photo for Lena Oxton - her bright orange-tinted glasses and beaming smile practically glowing against the dark backdrop of his phone screen.

He jolted upright, his free hand swiping the air in panic as he rapidly dismissed the image as if burned. His phone clattered loudly against the metal tabletop, the blank screen flickering.

"Two or three days?" Brian muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing thoughtfully.

How long had it been since that morning of donuts and coffee with the effervescent Overwatch pilot on the park bench? The memory sparked a warmth that bloomed in his chest.

Even as his hand rose instinctively to wave the thought away, Brian found himself pondering aloud - "Was it...was that a date?"

The familiar rhythmic tap of leather soles on tile announced his father's arrival before Brian even looked up. His gaze flickered toward the open balcony door as the man strode through, necktie already loosened and the top buttons of his crisp ivory dress shirt undone. He moved with the casual, relaxed air of someone finally home after a long day's work.

Without preamble, Brian's father dropped into the patio chair beside him with a contented sigh, letting his head loll back against the cushion as a series of small pops emanated from his back. "Ah, that's better," he hummed, seemingly boneless now in his reclined position.

One eyelid cracked open, a salt-and-pepper eyebrow quirking upwards as he studied his son's pensive expression. "Girl problems?"

Brian's lips pulled into a tight frown, and he gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. "Kind of. I'm...not really sure."

A knowing chuckle rumbled from his father's chest as he took a swig from a perspiring water bottle. "So what's the score, son?"

"There's nothing, really." Brian raked a hand through his hair with a mirthless chuckle. "A girl gave me her number, and—"

"Please tell me you waited a few days before calling her?," his father interjected, already shaking his head in playful admonishment.

Brian's frown deepened. "Not intentionally. I've just been...busy. And I learned some things that make me wonder if she's not who I thought she was."