Forced (1st book in The Forced Series)

Chapter Twelve *REVISED*

Chapter Twelve

Van goth took the elevator from his apartment building's garage up to his floor. He stepped to the back, after holding the door for another tenant he vaguely remember as his downstairs neighbor, and leaned back against the glass paneling. Van had stopped trying to reach Hazel by her seemingly off dinosaur of a cellphone; after all, she was a grown lady. If she wanted to return it was up to her. And if she did not then it would only be advantageous for him.

When the doors slid open with a bing, Van stepped out and directed his gaze to the second door on the floor. There the enchanting Hazel-monster was sitting with her legs folded underneath her in front of his apartment door. At first, he thought she was sleeping, but before he could get within four feet from her, she raised her head and gazed into his wondering blue eyes with her sparkling hazel ones. And Van was again struck by how beautiful she really was. Van felt as if they were having a moment.

"You got any food?" she asked, her blank expression not changing.

The slow track that had started playing in his head came to an abrupt halt and Van sighed. "Why didn't you call, instead of waiting outside?"

Her eyes narrowed, pinning Van with a 'duh' look before she mockingly responded, 'Don't worry, dad. I'll call you the next time."

Sighing again, Van held out his hand to help her up. Shouting him a curious look, she attempted to stand on her own. After three fails – which she blamed on her now numb legs – Hazel took his offered hand. A smirked graced Van's lips as he pulled her up, purposefully pulling her closer than necessary and side stepping as if her flying into his chest had not been intentional. He opened the door, allowing her in and strolled in leisurely after her.

"So about that food..."

"Unfortunately for you, I was planning on cooking something but you don't seem to fancy waiting right now." He carefully took off his shoes and stowed them in the closet by the door, "And as the clear adult in this situation, I'm afraid I'll have to say no snacks before dinner."

"I was being sarcastic." Hazel rebutted, following his lead and discarding of her shoes, "You do know what sarcasm is, right?"

Van turned to her, walking backwards with his hands stuffed in his pockets, "Sarcasm? Is that a hip new thing?"

Hazel stopped in her tracks, dumbfounded by the man her father wanted her to marry. Never, in all her life, had she ever met someone who annoyed her to wit's end. And yet she wanted to continue their verbal sparring. But, more importantly, she needed to keep her wits about her. Her situation was not about asserting dominance but about finding a middle ground where she would not allow herself to get attached and ultimately be disappointed by another person.

She knew that at some point she would have to make it up with him to find a way to live together peacefully, but her annoyance with her father, and Mr. Steel, was getting the best of her. Deciding against throttling him, Hazel rolled her eyes and walked pass Van. She gave him a wide berth, not bothering to glance back as she muttered, "Call me when the food is ready."

Half an hour later, Hazel flopped over onto her back, wincing when her cast dug into her skin because of the tough floor. She had been staring at a half-finished painting for the entire time she had been in her room. Her urge to paint was eminent, but her need for food was stronger. Finally, she pushed up with her right hand and stumbled from the room in search of Van.

He was standing at the iPod dock, fiddling with the music. The piece sounded like a ballad rock song that she could vaguely identify. Van goth turned around when she stopped some steps behind him. He had a dripping popsicle hanging out of his mouth.