Ashen

Walk you home?

Poppilia felt hot. She looked down. Why would he be looking at me? Oh, Pop, don't overreact. Perhaps he was just scanning the crowd. She contradicted herself. No! He was staring straight at me! She felt indignant at the thought of a different reason. She was dressed in a thin robe, saved for the hot summer months, and her bust was only accentuated by the thin fabric. She'd already gotten more than enough drunken stares from the men passing her by in the mob, their eyes meeting her face with a suggestive smile and then flitting to her chest.

Without another thought, she marched over to the young man. She stuck her hand out in a confident greeting reserved only for men. "Poppilia," she offered. "I thought I'd make things easier on you. It must be hard to stare from so far away." She only added a small air of haughtiness to her voice, curious as to who he was. Perhaps she had misjudged his stare. But after all, she reasoned, he was most likely a vain firstborn, raised in immense wealth, keeping only with the finest company. His clothing all but told her. You hypocrite! Poppilia chided herself. Her mother had raised her so differently that sometimes she forgot that she herself was a wealthy patrician, and the daughter of a well-known senator. She decided she would have to wait and find out who this boy really was.

The tall hero looked entertained. Cocking an amused smile, he took her hand- and to her unsuspecting surprise- kissed it. "Pleased to meet you, Poppilia. The view is even better from up close." He winked.

Poppilia cocked an eyebrow. Choking back her surprise, she folded her arms. She'd never met such an impertinent young man. "I never got your name," she ventured impatiently.

"Good. I prefer it that way." He smiled obnoxiously.

"Why are you so annoying?"

"To frustrate pretty girls like you."

Poppilia huffed. She felt their pointed conversation had turned into a battle of wits. "I'm not a girl," she retaliated tartly.

Not only was he clever, but he was frustratingly handsome. His blue eyes were brighter than the mediterranean during the summer. He stood a good eight inches taller than her, and she had to lift her head to look into his eyes. It made her feel inferior.

Poppilia was already tall for a girl. She stood at 5'7, a height making her perfectly compatible next to most men. But him...she noted she could fit her head right into the crook of his neck. She immediately stopped herself there.

"Women don't get so upset over a simple stare," he replied, deepening her reddened face. So he had guessed the reason for her indignation. "In fact, a woman would never get so offended that she would have the nerve to talk down to a man." He licked his lips. "Especially," he added, "when she is the one who has to crane her neck so far upwards." He purposely tacked on an additional sting about her height. How had he guessed she was so conscious of the difference? Poppilia could've spit. It wasn't her fault he was tall.

"Why were you staring at me?" She figured perhaps if she could fluster him she could gain the upper hand. Instead, his response flowed perfectly smoothly.
"You're the daughter of Cyrus Cicero. At a public execution. Why wouldn't I stare?"

Poppilia was silent. If he threatened to tell her father....

"You know, it's curious. I thought you weren't allowed to watch these things. It's awfully bloody for a delicate maiden like you."

Poppilia met his eyes with rage. "Delicate maiden! Delicate? Do you think that because I have-" She lowered her voice to a hiss. "different-different parts than you, that I can't watch a man die? You- you are insufferable!"

Hardly fazed, the stranger seemed amused at seeing her so flustered. Her face had grown scarlet at her embarrassment over what she had said.

Oh, he was aggravating.

He leaned down, close to her face. "I won't tell your father if you let me walk you home."

Poppilia sputtered. "Wha-are you-no!"" She knew she was as stubborn as a mule, and there was no way on earth she would let this cocky, rude, insolent boy walk her home. She regretted with a burning passion walking over to him in the first place. Look where your stupid temper and jumping to conclusions has gotten you to, Pop.

He shrugged. "Very well. Your father has many virtues, but I hear patience is not one of them." And with that, he turned away.

She nearly screamed in rage. "Wait," she instead called through her teeth. Biting her lip, she freed the dreaded word from her tongue. "Fine."

A/N: Hope you guys loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it! He sure is maddening, isn't he? :) VOTE, SHARE, + COMMENT.