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Isabelle wipes her hands on her skirt. She turns to Samuel. Is he a friend or not? Too early to tell. Maybe she can push the guy out of the way and run. The hospital staff would stare, though. Totally not worth it. She taps the tip of her nose and massages her palms.
"You know how dangerous that was, man?"
"No, officer. What did I do?" Samuel said.
Perhaps it's Isabelle's imagination, but the tension in the air grows. Wait, is this proper? Can an officer just waltz in here? The man rolls his eyes. Samuel chuckles as the officer smiles, avoiding eye contact with him.
"You just had to pick my day off." He said.
"Sorry for the inconvenience."
Samuel said, seeming to enjoy his reaction. Isabelle doesn't know what to make of it, not understanding what they said to one another non-verbally. The man turns his attention to Isabelle. Oh god.
She should've ran when she had the chance.
"Ah, hello. My name is Etienne Sinclair. Miss, have we met before?"
They shake hands. Why is his skin much softer than hers? Nice, thick hair and a casual sense of style. He could easily be mistaken for a college student, with his big wide eyes and sweet-sounding voice. Etienne? Could he be French?
"I'm Isabelle Cross. I'm positive we have not, Mister Sinclair." She said.
"Could you tell me what you remember?"
She'd rather not.
Isabelle opens her mouth and her voice cracks. She trails off, wiping her cheeks.
"I'm sorry. Let's stop for now." Sinclair said, giving her a reassuring smile. She doesn't have any choice, being the only witness at the moment.
But if not her, who?
Isabelle re-told what happened slowly, careful to avoid mentioning certain parts. Her phone rings, a message from Chloe, which said K. Potassium? Oh.
"Allow me to double-check. You saw no weapon or anyone else? Sinclair taps his fingers together, exchanging looks with his friend. What happened to that other officer?
"I was preoccupied with... Samuel. I don't know." Isabelle explains. How could she have been so careless? She could've gotten hurt, as well.
Until she knows what's going on, that man in a white hat will have to be her little secret. Sinclair stuffs his hands in his pockets. He extends his hand to Isabelle. A card? Why is he hitting on her?
She skims over the piece of paper and nibbles her lip. It was contact details for his department. Who knows when that'll come in handy.
"Isabelle, there are some private matters we must discuss."
"Let her stay. She saved my life." Samuel said. Sinclair pinches his nose bridge.
"It's fine. I'll walk around."
Isabelle leaves before they can say anything. She sighs. Some coffee would be great, but the instant kind just didn't cut it. She's glad she wouldn't be going to jail.
Maybe not now.
She furrows her eyebrows. What exactly is their relationship to one another? Friends? Business partners? Lovers? No way, could Sinclair be his ex!? What did Samuel look like in his younger years? He was probably a heartbreaker.
The main lobby is empty, aside from staff nurses walking around with their clipboards. Why did hospitals have such an eerie, scary vibe? The repetitive white walls and smell of antiseptics don't comfort her at all.
Why not paint the rooms pink and decorate them with butterflies? Lovely pink ones with flowers and grass.
Isabelle reclines on a public bench outside, not too far from the hospital. She could easily ditch them, forget it all happened, and call it a night.
She wouldn't even say goodbye.
The wind and the sound of rustling leaves remind her of where she is. A red sign across the street catches her attention. She walks in and grabs some food. The taste of a greasy, hot burger and fries eases her nerves. Maybe not the best option, but it's cheap and delicious.
The staff gives her weird looks but leaves her be nonetheless. Could he even handle solid food? He did have wounds all over his body.
She impulsively bought a cheap, plastic yellow raincoat that covered enough of her tattered dress. She mentally prepares a polite apology. On her way back, she scrolls through her old text messages. She stares at a list of contacts. Before she could tap the dial button, her phone comes to life.
"I had a feeling you were still awake."
Tristan chirps. Isabelle quietly throws her cup into the bin. She should've checked the caller ID.
"A friend needed help." She said.
The pair didn't seem like the bad, malicious kind of people. The way they spoke to her and one another reminds her of her parents for some reason. Meaning a fight would happen, sooner or later.
"You're a bad liar," Tristan said. She scoffs.
It wasn't a whole lie. Even though its a phone call, he could tell?
Isabelle smiles, not knowing what to say. She stuffs a soiled wipe into her pocket. She looks much better than earlier, on the bright side.
"Takes one to know one." She said. He laughs in return. The faint sound of music on his end confirms her suspicion. Him and his love for alcohol, goodness.
"Aren't you going to ask why I called?" He said. Isabelle feels his grin through the phone. She rolls her eyes. She figures he had nothing better to do. The street lamps flicker from time to time. She picks up the pace.
Too many horror films, documentaries and the like taught her to be quick on her feet. Especially because she's a woman. The sight of flies on a stiff stray animal make her flinch. Her heart sinks, the smell of a decaying body almost making her throw up.
Rest in peace, little one.
"Look, I'm not in the mood to talk." Isabelle huffs. She makes her way back in, her hood down as she walked.
"Hey, I'm special." He said. Isabelle could hear shouts on his end. Is he with that handsome man? Just imaging hearing his voice again made her knees weak.
"Special, your ass." Isabelle scoffs.
"Would you like to feel it?" He asked. She pulls the phone away from her ear and checks the time. Isabelle pinches herself and looks around. What in tarnation?
"Hard pass."
"Stephen has a lovely one. One time we went swimming-" Tristan laughs. Isabelle recalls last night and stops walking. The sound of giggling on his side of the call and pet names make her cringe. She remembers what his muscle felt like, the blood rushing to her face. Oh, she'd know.
"Since when did that become the topic? Not to mention you were the one who passed out drunk!"
She'd choose that gentleman over a hotheaded, cocky blonde any day. Her blood boils at the thought of his smug face. It's a good thing he's short or his ego would go beyond his head. He'd ascend to the skies.
"I wanted to hear your voice. You know, before you start missing me." Tristan answers, the sound of clattering metal on his end. Isabelle snorts and ends the call without warning. Yeah right.
All men do is lie. He owes her pudding from yesterday. He's got some nerve. But she enjoys having him around and he knows too much. She taps the screen of her phone and set his name with a red circle at the end. Blocked.
She'd ask how that dashing friend of his is, after some sleep and a hot shower. Isabelle knocks on the door. After hearing a response, she finds Samuel engrossed in a book beside a young man. Oh? Tousled mouse-brown hair, hurriedly styled. A kind smile, accompanied by a soft jawline with a lean frame. He wore a loose white shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots.
The door closes with a soft click. Isabelle's attention stays glued to the young man. His beautiful green eyes speak for themselves. She looks at the two, not seeing much resemblance. A friend?
"You finally shut up, Aaron. Thank god." Samuel set down his book and looks up. She smiles in response. Goodness.
"He's my uncle." Aaron steeled his fingers together. Isabelle senses the anger radiate off him in waves. Hostile, but still attractive. The look in his eyes made her think of a venomous snake, staring down at its prey.
"Miss Cross! Yellow suits you." Samuel comments. Aaron looks at Isabelle with sharp eyes. He follows Aaron's line of sight and nudges him with his good arm.
Isabelle glances at the two. Aaron merely nods. He approaches, standing in front of her. All she can focus on is how intense his stare is. If he keeps looking at her like that, she'd feel conscious. Harsh, intimidating green eyes. He stepped into her space, and much to Isabelle's displeasure, she bites her tongue and avoids eye contact.
"How convenient for you to be around, just as he got hurt." Aaron snapped. Samuel sighs and shut his book.
"Stop it, kid. You sound like you want me dead."
Isabelle tilts her head, forcing herself to look up. Is he looking for a fight? She folds her arms, not breaking eye contact with him. Everything in her yells at her to run, but the burning anger in her chest keeps her feet firmly on the floor. Handsome or not, he doesn't have to be that rude. Fine, two can play that game.
"I'm supposed to be sorry for saving his life?" She blinks.
"You know who he is. Why else would you help? Money? Power? Fame?" Aaron leans in, looking down at her. Who does this punk think he was?
The sensation of a sharp, piercing fear strikes her chest. It holds her in place, unable to look away from him. Her hands shake and she balls them into fists.
"I'm sorry he's stuck with such a prick for a nephew." Isabelle squares her shoulders. Samuel makes a noise and covers his mouth. She places her hands on his chest, placing some distance between them. He's too close for comfort, geez.
"You could've shot him for all I know!"
She can't even win a WiiSports game. An actual weapon? Oh please, like that'll happen. Aaron clenches his fists and took a step forward. She takes a step back. How rude, to shout in a hospital. Would it be too late to dive behind Samuel? Maybe he could talk some sense to his nephew.
"I didn't. You're welcome, anyway." Isabelle spat. She shut the door on the way out.
She reclines on the hard, steel chair on the hospital's rooftop. It smells like smoke and god-knows-what kind of chemicals. All this pollution isn't good for the skin. What if it gives her a breakout? She turns her head to the side. She looked at the streetlights past the high fence, twinkling like stars.
With all these artificial lights, the real night sky can't be seen. The first time she saw the blue-green glow at night was on an airplane, a trip across the world from one country to another. Tristan had insisted the group get together and visit Southeast Asia at least once. What she'd give to see those stars again, even for a minute.
Isabelle moves her hair out of her face and thinks about what happened. Who would bother saving someone they wanted dead? That didn't make sense. Perhaps this was her cue to leave. She hears the door slide open.
His logic is so off.
"Are you crying?"
Isabelle wipes her eyes. No, her eyes were just dry. Dumbass.
"What do you want?" She asked, an argument on the tip of her tongue. His voice doesn't seem as angry as earlier. How he feels shouldn't matter.
"Look, I shouldn't have done that."
Aaron exhales a puff of smoke. He drops a piece of candy onto her lap. His insincerity annoys her. She doesn't mind the smell of cigarettes, nor did she like them either. Yeah, whatever.
"You're still a jerk." She sits with her legs crossed. Aaron puts out his cigarette.
It's not even the pink candy she likes. Isabelle tosses the hardened yellow-colored sugar into her mouth. It's not even candy. It is a bitter cough drop.
"I know you didn't hurt him. With that size? I doubt it." He said. The wind is too weak to cover up the smell of tobacco. Isabelle nods. Insincere, but it's better than silence. She doesn't buy his apology at all.
"Then give me a hug." She said. While she hasn't totally forgiven him, her anger would fade out. Eventually. Besides, more stress on Samuel isn't what anyone needs right now.
"I don't see how that's connected," Aaron said. He visibly stiffens. Isabelle giggled. Shy?
"I've forgiven you so let's seal it with a hug." Isabelle said. She silently hoped he wears strong cologne. She presses her palms together. The hot feeling in her chest goes away, replaced by a wave of calm. He shakes his head.
"I don't do promises, Isabelle." He said. She rolls her eyes.
"Let's be friends, then." She said. He stares at her and glances around them. Aaron pinches his nose bridge and sits beside her. Isabelle smiles and embraces him in a tight hug.
"Boring." He looks away, avoiding eye contact.
"I made a new friend!" Isabelle gushes, a big smile on her face. Tristan would love to know! They might even get along. Aaron seems to have the same problem her hot-headed blonde friend has. Perhaps a little too similar, but it's worth a shot.
Worst case scenario? They'd have the hots for one another. Nah. Probably not.
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