Black Temptation

Chapter 2

There is a light, airy, yet disgustingly sweet feeling to the bakery when I enter. Sounds of workers fetching coffee cups and the crunching of bags, full of pastries, being handed to their onwers, draw me to the counter.

"Kristen! Get your ass in here and fix these three double expresso caramels ASAP!" One worker yells from the other side of the room. The bluntness of his douchebag-itry doesn't faze me. In a town like this, so compacted and isolated, a curse in the face should be the least of your worries and I'm not in the business of indulging myself in others' foul play. I skip around a few customers, all who are busy responding to their phones or peering up intently at the television.

Licking my lips, I hungrily place my hands on the cold marble, pondering over what I should order.

"Diabetes, diabetes, diabetes, high blood pressure." I say, looking at the different options.

There are so many choices and this new, alien freedom that came with being nineteen doesn't mix well with a pocket full of money.

I deflect my attention, it is then I recognize the lady cashier......M-Marsha. Her wilting brown eyes, piercing through mine. Her smile weakening, indicating she had done this one too many times and had completely separated from society. You and me too, sista.

"Kristen! Where art thou about to be fired Kristen?"

I huff lightly to myself, getting a little annoyed at his yelling so early in the morning, but deciding to leave that situation be and return my gaze back to the menu above Marsha when my mouth instantly falls dry as I feel a tall figure step behind me. I furrow my eyebrows in playful caution.

The room abnormally falls silent.

It holds no contact and my mind wanders off from its presence until a few seconds pass.

"Are you going to order?" An annoyed and seemingly risqué prone voice speaks.

"Uh, huh, yeah."

I respond annoyed, not evening looking behind me. I don't pay enough attention to decipher the gender of the person behind me. Or even their intention. I could care less, I just want some food.

Moments later, without a single word exchanged, I am handed the silky, hot bag and urged out of the way by the still irritated male. I notice his fiery armband becoming apparent as he moved up to the counter, his face turned from view.

It leaves my thoughts and I make my way out of the bakery in search for a hallway to eat in solitude.

The floor-plan and my less than impressive directional skills, lead me into a deep, long , black hallway of the office building, the only light puncturing through a few dangling bulbs and the moss green door far beyond me. It's intimidating, but it's better than nothing. I see my old loner ways have not left me yet. Even at this age.

I'm walking further than necessary when large footsteps seem to come from every crevice of the building. I think of it no more than simple stair dwellers pounding harshly on the steps and continue slowly.

The steps get louder and I begin to slightly shake beneath the timid threads of my shirt. My bag begins to rumble with my uneasy fingertips and suddenly I trip over what seems to be a large stump growing ill-placed in the hall.

My bag falls onto the floor beside me, my purse strap draping off my shoulder like melted chocolate. I huff in annoyance and my knees whimper underneath my unforgiving weight.

Loosing a shade of embarrassed that tints my cheeks, I succeed in putting my foot firmly on the ground again. My hand reaches for an invisible object to grab onto when a strong palm encompasses it as I levitate my body.

"It looks like we have a klutz in our mists." My ears damage themselves to hear his low raspy tone. Skin scrapes over one another as I jerk my hand out of his clasp. I dart my head towards him in vexation. With clenched teeth, my palm readies to slap him and his ego to china. Yet, (I know I wont) and I'm bewildered at his smirk which becomes sicker as I continue to stare.

His scraped lips are pinker than rose petals as they tilt on the side of his face. The silhouette of his dimples become apparent with the-what some people..most people would call-dim lighting of the corridor.

Although forests of green with fragments of a silver kind of color, his intimidating height, awes my senses.

He uses a hand to move the coffee colored mane that adorned his forehead and then capped the rest of the top, out of his face.

I am shaken out of my daze when an interruptive and exaggerated 'hmm' is released.

"I've enjoyed this little exhibit fest you've initiated but I have places to be, next time, you should really look at where you're going and not what you're eating."

The comment hits me like a thousand knifes. Is he implying that I'm some type of overweight hag because I love food? And care about its well being? As he intends to back away, before my lips can muster up correct English, the sound of heels clacking towards us impels me to turn my head.

It is Susan from the front desk. Her blonde strands in the same sideways bang as she creeps closer. She immediately stops when she awakes to my situation that I am not handling so well, grey eyes locking on the curly-haired nuisance that holds my tongue captive. The tender smile she holds instantly abandons her as his green eyes leave me.

"Susan." He calmly says, eyes narrowing on her tall physique.

Her jaw twitches at the mention of her name. She plays with her finger tips, weighing her options. I get the unsettling feeling that they know each other. Possibly more than she would like to explain.

That gray gaze drops down to the floor, leaving me without any back up.

Um hello? Girl, is u stupid? Help me! DAMN

An uninvited break in communication leaves the awkward not far behind. My thoughts tremble into the back of my mind as I see her glare back up at me. Her face now more protective than that of her earlier appearance.

"Ms. Harper, Mr.Earlwind will you see you now."

He immediately tenses, not so much in his muscles, but in his eyes. His eyebrows furrow with inquiry, as do I. I wonder why everybody seems to be so acquainted with these names that are being thrown and why he's bothered by that particular label. Also why is he another douche and why am I so intimidated by a smirk, but I feel the tug of Susan on my arm and quickly change focus. I squeeze past his glare, returning my bag and purse back in my possession. She hauls me away, yet he still buns fresh in my mind and before I can take a second look, he is gone.