Dammit Dan, You Stole My Hart

Chapter 4

Daniel - 27/05/16, Friday

"Mark my words, Eleanor. I'm never going to get romantically involved with anyone. I know too much about everyone to want to be with one of these shallow-minded brats," I said to her forcefully.

"Yeah yeah whatever. Can we get started?"

"Why are you in such a rush? Calm down, it's not due for days."

"Well, I just want to get it done and over with."

"Why?"

"Just... gah, you won't understand."

"If you don't ever explain yourself I'll never understand."

"Let's just get on with it," she said, extracting from her bag a notepad and her pencil case.

"What right here?"

"Where else? You dragged me all the way up here!"

"Fine."

The roof wasn't exactly the most ideal place for an interview, but it was isolated. Kind of. There was this corner on the roof next to some ventilation units that was somewhat isolated. Couples sometimes went there to make out, and the floor over there had white stuff splattered all over it. Probably was paint. Probably. But for the moment, it seemed like Eleanor and I were the only ones up here.

"Where to start," she said, mumbling to herself. I stared out at the courtyard. The Sun was setting in the background, giving the entire sky an orange glow. Why had we stayed so long in school again?

"What's your favourite colour?"

"What?"

"Your favourite colour. What is it?"

I hadn't been expecting such a simple question. But then again, for someone who had been in the information business for so long, I guess I had become used to the more complicated questions such as "what's the person's personality," or maybe "what's the person's love language". Complicated questions that-

"Earth to Dan Fletcher," she said, waving her hand, "are you still there?"

I shook my head. "Uh yeah. My favourite colour. Right. Uhh..." Truth be told, during the entire duration of my life, I hadn't really considered such a question. Maybe I had during kindergarten?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My favourite colour. What was it?

"Sky blue."

"Sky blue?" she repeated, as if she was tasting the word, as if that would help her visualize what I was describing.

"Yeah, Like cobalt blue, but lighter."

She considered it. "I think I know what you're describing." She reached into her bag and pulled out a light blue marker, and with it, drew a line across her notebook. "Like that?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Okay next question." She went back into her pondering mode, and I took a moment to analyze her features, which were arranged in an expression of deep concentration. The lighting helped accentuate her facial features. She had a rather sharp nose, medium sized eyes, medium sized ears. She had her right hand supporting her chin and her gaze was directed to right. She twirled her pen in her left hand (if you want to change this its fine).

I could only conclude one thing. She was pretty in this state, and that was undeniable,

"Ah! What's your favourite ho-. Wait I already know that. Never mind." She exclaimed, breaking the magic of the moment. She started writing something down on her notepad. "Stalking. That should do."

I sniggered. "Write whatever you want. Miss Jefferson's going to be the judge of our project."

"Well, it is the truth."

"It's not stalking. It's people watching. There's a difference."

"No there isn't. Its the same thing."

"No when you stalk you focus on one person, when you people watch you watch multiple people at once."

"If that would make me a stalker. Right. So I'm definitely stalking you right now."

"What?"

"Never mind you won't understand."

Interesting. "'I won't understand' she says. Try me."

"Try you?" She reeled back in disgust. "No thanks."

"And you were blaming me for making sexual connotations earlier. Looks who's talking now."

"Never mind," she said. "Like I said, you won't understand."

I shook my head. "Not like anyone ever will."

So there we were, sitting atop the roof of block A, bantering about how little we understood each other.

"You're a tough one to find out about, you know that?"

"I do not think that no one will ever understand me!"

"Says the person ending off every other sentence with 'you won't understand'!"

And then it snapped. I realised that, for the first time in forever, someone had made me feel that I had nothing on them. No information, no understanding. It was almost as if she was just as mysterious as me, hiding just as much. There was more to her than met the blinking eye, and I was going to find out.