Fifteen | ✓

two

sorry for the annoying little thing at the beginning of the video; wtf

•••

The second time that they both met fell within the following week, although their situation of re-acquaintanceship was rather anti-climactic.

In this day and age, nothing is short of that: anticlimactic, disappointing; in a day and age where chivalry and novelty and good manners were as good as dead, or so Catherine convinced herself when she met Christopher again in a Mc Donald's branch downtown.

He had cut in line in front of her, his sneaker-clad foot now tapping away with impatience as he waited, and Catherine wondered, fleetingly, if he had not seen her all the while that he stood there.

After a three minute and forty-two second hesitation, her knowing that because of the incessant viewing of her wristwatch, she pulled lightly at the fabric of his jacket, suddenly feeling like a child in the shadow of his tall frame and the mature angles of his face.

"Oh, it's you, Sketch," said Christopher, and her chest warmed in the light of his recognition. "Are you stalking me?"

She scoffed, standing straighter in some sort of feeble attempt to lessen the height difference between themselves. "I'll have you know you're in my spot."

His eyebrow raised toward his forehead in a teasing fashion, and she noticed a tiny dimple form above it. "Is that so? I don't see your name here."

"It's not orthodox for people to walk about with permanent markers and scribble their names across random property, if you didn't know." There was a slight edge to her voice that she failed to prevent from seeping in. Probably a side-effect of her stomach's hollowness. Her anger levels were always directly proportionate to her hunger, so it was wise to try not to step on her toes whenever she was hungry.

Christopher, on the other hand, was unfazed. In fact, he laughed. "Calm down, Sketch. We're all in the good." The chubby man that had been stationed in front of him left the queue, and Christopher stepped forward to meet the till. "In fact, I'm glad to say it's your lucky day. Lunch's on me."

The dragons that had raged in her belly significantly calmed down at hearing this, their forms replaced with butterflies that batted their light wings against the walls of her stomach.

Christopher carried both their orders to a semi-secluded booth, and Catherine wondered if he, like her, was ambivert. A special kind of ambiversion that entailed more introversion than extroversion.

Within this internal debate of sions, she had not failed to note the penetrating gaze of Christopher as she squeezed her ketchup packet. She hoped to God it would not spill, as the tremor in her fingers was a detriment to her aim. In an additional train of thought, she willed Christopher not to notice her shaking hands.

He hadn't said anything yet, so it either meant he actually didn't note her blunder, or in a spur of gentlemanliness chose not to bring it to mention.

"So..." he started instead, playing with a chip on his plate; he had barely touched his food. "What do you do in your free time? You know, besides drawing and jaywalking."

Catherine rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting her nervousness. "I do not jaywalk in my free time."

"Okay, so it's like a hobby or?"

"Stop it!" She reached over the table to slap against his chest, and in that brief second felt the vibration of his laughter.

"Okay, seriously now," Christopher stated, his facial expression anything but serious. "What are your hobbies?"

She hummed in thought, twirling her straw and enjoying the sound of ice cubes crashing against each other.

He waited patiently and agog, resting his chin in his palms, his reflective eyes shinier underneath the harsh overhead lighting.

"I like drama."

"Drama? Like with acting and all that shebang?"

"Something like that. I'm not really that into it; it's like a collateral hobby."

"Yes, so I'm guessing jaywalking is the main one?"

On the receiving end of a deadpanned glare, he amended, "Just kidding, of course. I'm sure you're as excellent with drama as you are in fine arts."

She smiled sheepishly at his compliment, not bothering to tell him that she in fact was rubbish at acting, what with her repeatedly flubbing her lines and getting intimidated by numerous stares and the piercing stage lights. Most of the time she played an extra if she was lucky, other times taking backstage.

"What are your own hobbies?" Catherine asked in attempt to steer attention from herself.

"Oh me?" Christopher queried with a bemused look and a hand pressed against his chest, as if he hadn't been expecting that. "I do music?" His statement sounded more like a question. "Guitar mostly."

"That's neat. You sound surprised; hasn't anyone asked you about the details of yourself before? Your hobbies?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I guess as the years go by, people stop to care. That is the hard reality of the world we live in."

"Well, Christopher, I've only known you for roughly more than a week, but I'll tell you that I care." After the words left her lips, she realized that she'd uttered them not only as a kind gesture as had been implied, but she actually did care. Strangely.

Christopher grinned. "This is the first time I've heard you say my name, and I must say that I love it."

And so did she.