The Saint Jones [Completed]

chapter 27: Twenty Something

Cher

"So, if I understood correctly, your mother is from Thailand?" Julian asks, his body close to mine as we walk down the hall to my room.

"Yes, my mother wa-... is Thai." I clear my throat and look down at the carpet, at my black boots. From the corner of my eyes, I look at him, with each step he takes, his black classic shoe shines under the lights around us.

The hall is empty, only he and I are the occupants. Everyone is probably still inside the party, dancing or enjoying their time. Silence is around us, not a single sound can be heard, not even the sound of our shoes. How peaceful it is to be calm, to be next to him.

"And your father?" He asks. I am still wondering why I started talking to him about my life. It started with my father and how great of a dancer he is, then it escalated towards my mother. At first I was embarrassed by the way the conversation was going on, I did not want to answer him but he is so sweet, so understandable that I can not stop myself from telling him what he wants to know.

"My father is from Spain," I reply without looking up at him. It hurts my neck to lift my head and to look at his shielded face but deep down I know that it is far from being the real reason.

"Oh, that's great," he says and I reply by a nod.

Silence, again. We walk and walk not caring about the time anymore but what is occupying my mind most is the fact that he was supposed to work, he was working earlier, before dancing with me. Will he get in trouble because he is not inside, helping others as he should be? I do not know. A frown appear on my lips as I think of it over and over.

"What's happening?" Finally, after a moment, I raise my head slowly and look at his face. Yes, he is definitely handsome, incredibly handsome. Every time I look at him, I realize that his beauty is just getting oversized, it is real or is it my imagination?

"What?" I ask, eyes showing pure curiosity.

"You have a little pout on your lips," he says, still looking down at me. Frustration rises in me again when my eyes land on his sunglasses, that is exactly why I did not want to look at him because I knew that I would not be able to bear these stupid dark things on his eyes.

My tongue is scratching, I want to open my mouth and ask him the fundamental question; 'why are you wearing these sunglasses?' But my courtesy means that unfortunately for me, I can not say such a thing to him. We are trying to get to know each other, I can give him time, I guess.

"It was nothing," I reply and he sighs, loud enough.

"You can tell me you know, unless it's something really confidential." He sounds true. He sounds curious but at the same time what he said seems aloof, showing me that he does not want to interfere in my life.

"I thought you had to work. I was intrigued by.... by you know..." I sigh and throw my hand in the air, stopping in my steps and I turn to look him. "Why are you here, with me, instead of working?"

I did not want to ask him that question so quickly but I feel bad, bad for making him stay with me while he was supposed to be working. I am not here to distract anyone or to make someone get into trouble. It will be somehow my fault if they punish him because of me.

He sighs and strikes a pose, hands in his tight pants, putting all his weight on his right leg, standing in front of me like a model who jumps out of a fashion magazine. "Do you want me to leave?" He asks, not a sign of joke on his tone nor his facial expression.

"No... I was just-..."

"I won't get into trouble," he cuts me off. If only I could be a hundred per cent reassured, but I am not. Nor does he seem to have confidence  in what he just said.