Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 16. 2024.
It's lunch time. The cafeteria is already packed and more kids are filing in.
Alessia sits at her lone table today, with a tray of junk food before her. Yes, she's seated in the open. Yes, she knows Vincent might be looking for her. But, during her classes prior to lunch, like him, she had a lot of time to think, and now, she can care less about that boy. Her reason for hiding is foolish and the alcohol she drank on Saturday must've opened up her conscience because she's feeling all sorts of things.
"Hey, Alessia!" A confident Richie, whom she remembers as shy, sits beside her (to her inconvenience), smiling politely. "I haven't heard from you in quite a while." The whole squad fills up the empty seats around Alessia's old, vandalized table, one by one.
Odd. They weren't so welcoming the time she was actually trying to make friends. They alienated her with their eyes. Even Richie didn't seem into her efforts either... So, what has changed?
"You didn't miss me." She states icily. "What's your reason for bothering me?"
They all glance at her with emotions, that they fail to conceal properly.
"Actually, we didn't mean to judge you. Scholarship students are normally bullied by the wealthy kids here, so we couldn't just let you in like that." Richie tries to explain with his heart stuttering.
"We were being skeptical." Says a girl, adjusting her square-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose.
Richie adds, "And, cautious."
"The cautious part is true, but the rest is cap." Announces Vincent who appears close by and Alessia takes this as her cue to go mute.
She knows already that the boy is lying, but what difference would it make if she spoke up. She can't have friends from school or anywhere else unless they're on the job like her. Richie and his friends are wasting their time, even now staring at the tanned, curly haired boy with golden eyes.
"You were being cautious to see if she's naïve enough to use on one of your stupid ass plans. Beat it, before I beat you."
"Do you believe this, Alessia?!" Richie snaps, slamming his palms on the table as he stands. The girl he's talking to nibbles on a fry, peacefully indulging in her food, and his face sours, "You can't even answer for yourself...?" He steps over the small stool he was sitting on, disgusted, and storms away grumbling about, "Dumbass rich people."
The others follow after him like ducklings to a mother duck crossing a highway.
Vincent goes around the table and sits across from her so that he can see her face clearly if she ever lifts her chin. He watches her eat silently for the sake of suspense. Five fries and two bites in a drumstick later, he begins, "I think I know you..." she stops eating, "...and there's no reason to doubt that you know me, because you're always running away from me." Running? She chuckles. "Please do me the honors of telling me who you are before my bored-ass resorts to meddling."
She slowly swallows what she has inside her mouth and rests her right cheek in her right palm, leaning on the table on her elbow. The hue of her eyes are bright, pupils slightly dilated staring at the boy—not that he'll notice through her cold blue contacts.
"Y-you're Alexa, right?" Why did he stutter?
Her eyebrows fly upwards and she corrects him, "My name is Alessia."
Vincent is dumbfounded. "So, you're not Petro Moskal's li'l puppet assassin?"
She sighs at that, but wonders if there's an actual reason why she doesn't want him to know who she is. It had been because she didn't want to be bothered by his reaction or attitude to follow, she figures. He's overbearing. Very overbearing.
"Why do you want to know so badly?" She questions, narrowing her gaze.
"Because," he huffs, rolling his eyes then state flatly, "curiosity is eating me alive."
Her eyes seem to gleam, "Curiosity killed the cat."
"Satisfaction brought it back." He responds instinctively before pausing in realization.