Dove's POV
My laptop bag slung across one shoulder, I meandered down the sun-dappled sidewalk, eyes scanning every corner for a spark of inspiration. The late afternoon air held a crispness that sent a jolt through my system, chasing away the cobwebs and sharpening my focus. Up ahead, the steel silhouette of a bridge pierced the horizon, its form gracefully mirrored in the glassy surface of the canal below. Sunlight danced on the water, turning it into a kaleidoscope of shimmering blues and greens.
Reaching the railing, I paused, drawn in by the scene like a moth to a flame. The water, so still it seemed frozen in time, whispered promises of serenity. Tiny lily pads bobbed delicately on the surface, their undersides a vibrant emerald contrasting with the cerulean depths. A lone dragonfly, its wings a flash of turquoise, skimmed across the surface, creating perfect ripples that disturbed the mirrored reflection for a fleeting moment.
With a sigh, I lowered my worn leather laptop bag onto the weathered wooden planks of the bridge. Its familiar weight, a constant reminder of looming deadlines and unfinished work, tugged me back from the hypnotic pull of the water. Still, I couldn't resist the allure of danger. Leaning precariously over the railing, I peered into the cool abyss below. The water, deceptively clear, seemed to stretch endlessly downwards, a dark, inviting secret. A shiver snaked down my spine as a rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins. The very real possibility of a tumble into the chilly depths both terrified and exhilarated me. It was the unknown, the precarious edge between safety and adventure, that called to my restless spirit.
"It doesn't feel like a bad day to die," I whispered to myself, my arms outstretched, humming the rhythm of Vinter's favorite song.
Suddenly, a frantic voice sliced through the air. "Hey! Miss up there! Whatcha doin'?" I blinked my eyes open, scrambling to see who it was. But the world lurched, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the ground, face-to-face with a complete stranger.
A groan erupted from beneath me. I scrambled up, hands scraping against the rough pavement. A frown creased my forehead as I took in my savior. He was a walking billboard of piercings: a silver labret in his lip, a curved barbell eyebrow piercing, and a cluster of studs decorating his ears. As I towered over him, I tilted my head, giving him a good once-over. His eyelids fluttered open, another groan escaping his lips. He looked utterly bewildered.
A beat of silence hung in the air after my tumble. With a sigh that escaped me like a deflated balloon, I reached out a hand. "Need a lift?" I offered, a playful glint in my eyes.
He took a moment to assess the situation, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Then, slowly, he grasped my hand, allowing me to pull him to his feet. As he straightened up, a bit wobbly on his feet, I couldn't contain a small smirk. There he was, all disheveled and confused, and undeniably adorable. Seriously, this guy was practically sculpted by the gods of good looks.
His deep voice rumbled a question back, laced with a concern that sent a shiver down my spine (not entirely unpleasant, mind you). "Now, miss, care to explain why you were trying to take a swan dive off the edge?"
As he straightened up, I couldn't help but do a shameless head-to-toe scan. This guy was practically dripping with edgy style. His hair was a shocking ice-blue, shaved short on the sides but leaving the top long and messy. The contrast screamed he'd started with dark hair, maybe even ebony judging by the peek of roots. He sported a sleeveless turtleneck - a bold move - tucked into dark jeans. A black leather jacket hung casually around his waist, the picture of effortless cool.
Yeah, okay, maybe I got a tad fixated on the tattoos. His entire right arm, from wrist to bicep, was a canvas of intricate ink. There was something undeniably captivating about the way the black designs played against the taut muscles beneath. He was definitely easy on the eyes, but the scowl twisting his features told me my little appraisal hadn't gone unnoticed. Oops.
His eyes narrowed a touch, a question hanging in the air like, "Miss? You done ogling yet?" I flashed a grin, unable to resist. My chocolate brown eyes met his, a cool gunmetal shade.
"Guilty as charged," I admitted, a hint of sheepishness creeping in. "Those tattoos are, uh, seriously cool. Like, really well done." I gestured vaguely at his arm.
"Tattoo artist?" I blurted out, already moving past him to grab my laptop bag. My escape attempt was a little too obvious, even to me.
His eyes narrowed, and he sounded baffled as he asked, "Woman... are you for real? Are we just going to ignore the fact that you were trying to take your own life just a minute ago?" I let out a small laugh, feeling a bit self-conscious about being caught in the act.
"Oh dear, I wasn't attempting to commit suicide," I said, turning to face him. It was difficult not to be distracted by the way his fitted turtleneck showed off his muscles, along with his perfect V-shape. "I was just enjoying the cold breeze of air," I explained, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Yeah, right," he mumbled, rolling his eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck. Sure, I'd just tried to, well, you know, shuffle off this mortal coil, so his suspicion was kind of understandable.
"Listen," he said, his voice dropping to a more serious level, "I can totally report you for that suicide attempt thing, you realize that, right?"
"And who's gonna believe you?" I shot back, trying to sound way more confident than I actually felt. "It's not like there were any witnesses besides you, Sherlock." He snorted, a tiny ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Apparently, my attempt at dark humor wasn't lost on him.
"Wait, hold on," he stammered, voice laced with genuine confusion. "You don't even feel a twinge of guilt for what you almost pulled?"
A thrill shot through me, the adrenaline rush of the situation intoxicating. "Guilt? Nah," I countered, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "Besides, all this crazy stuff led me to you, right?" I added with a wink, batting my eyelashes for good measure.
His cheeks flushed a charming pink. I fought the urge to break into a full-blown grin. This was child's play.
"You're out of your mind," he muttered, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. My chuckle rumbled in my chest, emboldened by his obvious interest.
"Absolutely," I chirped, confidence bubbling like soda pop. "Since you became my personal hero, how about I buy you a coffee at the cute cafe I was heading to?" I suggested, tilting my head playfully.
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. But a playful glint danced in his eyes, betraying his internal struggle.
"Nah, I couldn't do that," he mumbled, the protest lacking conviction. There was a flicker of something in his gaze – maybe a hint of wanting to be convinced?
"Don't be ridiculous!" I exclaimed, a playful nudge in my voice. "Think of it as a chance for me to repay my savior! Besides," I added, leaning in a touch closer, "I promise I'm harmless." I punctuated the statement with a wink, unable to resist a playful wag of my finger. His lips twitched, a smile threatening to break free.
"Please, please," I pleaded, laying on the charm thick. I clasped my hands together over my heart, batting my eyelashes for full effect. It was doing the trick - his defenses were crumbling faster than a stale cookie.
"Ugh, fine," he conceded with a laugh, the sound rich and warm. My heart did a happy little dance inside my chest. I'd totally won him over!
With a genuine smile, I extended my hand. "Dove Stanley, at your service."
"Dove Stanley?" he repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Like, the Dove Stanley? The genius lyricist?" His voice was a delicious contrast to mine - deep and husky, sending shivers down my spine. We shook hands, and a jolt shot through me. His grip was firm, the callouses on his fingers a fascinating contrast to my own soft skin. There was something about it, a mix of strength and tenderness, that was strangely addicting.
"That's me in the flesh!" I chirped, a coy smile blooming on my face like a sunrise. Sure, maybe the "genius" label inflated my ego a tad – wink wink. His chuckle was a warm rumble in his chest, and I could practically see him light up at my playful banter.
"Twilight Harris," he introduced. A jolt shot through me, a strange mix of warmth and electricity. I scanned his features with a hawk's eye. Did his eyes hold the same captivating depths as Vinter's?
"So, are you...?" I started tentatively, my voice dropping a notch lower as a thrill of possibility danced in my stomach.
He cut me off with a casual shrug, "Yeah, yeah, Vinter's half-brother. Same dad, different moms." My blink rate went into overdrive. This couldn't be some cosmic joke the universe was playing on me, right? Running into Vinter's half-brother, here, of all places, after our near-miss encounter? Fate, destiny, or just a crazy coincidence? My mind raced, a whirlwind of possibilities swirling around the encounter.
"I see," I muttered, my brain still trying to untangle the situation. "I won't pry any further," I added, figuring I could get the Harris family scoop later. "Ready to hit that cafe?" I suggested, hoping to steer the conversation and get things moving.
"Sounds good," he replied, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. We set off side-by-side.
"By the way," he started, "your music is seriously awesome." I grinned at him, a puff of pride warming my chest at his compliment.
"Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. My gaze lingered on him a beat too long - yeah, wow, he definitely belonged on a magazine cover with those sharp features.
Shaking off the sudden case of the stumbles, I managed a grin that hopefully wasn't too goofy. "Uh, earlier," I began, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "The tattoo artist thing? Did that question ever, you know, reach your brainwaves?"
A playful glint entered my eyes as I watched him furrow his brow in mock confusion.
"Yup, tattoo artist by profession," he finally admitted, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "Though, how'd you guess?" he added, his voice laced with amusement.
I gave him a sly smile, a playful wink adding punctuation to the unspoken truth. "Just a hunch," I said smoothly, my inner monologue screaming that it was definitely not just a hunch.
He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, and his smile widened further. Seemed like he was buying my little act hook, line, and sinker. Dove, you sly bitch!
As our eyes met, I held his gaze a beat too long, letting the unspoken appreciation linger in the air. Most girls would've bolted or looked away by now, but I wasn't most girls. Not by a long shot.
A blush crept up his neck, dusting his cheeks and ears a charming shade of pink. The shy grin that bloomed across his face told me he wasn't exactly hating the attention. Score one for the subtle flirting.
"You have been staring at me for too long," he finally said, his voice soft and low. The words sent a small shiver down my spine. I grinned at him.
"Couldn't help myself," I admitted with a playful shrug. "You're like, distractingly cute, bunny." I leaned in a bit closer, watching his eyes widen like a startled fawn. "Did I fluster you?" I teased, a smug smirk tugging at my lips.
He stammered, cheeks now the color of a ripe tomato. "N-no way! Of course not!" His voice cracked on the denial, making me stifle a laugh. There he was, trying to play it cool, but his whole body language screamed flustered. Poor guy.
"Uh-huh," I said, dragging out the sound with a wink. It was clear he wasn't exactly a seasoned pro at the flirting game. Maybe a bit too innocent for his own good. That was kind of adorable, actually. Knowing we'd be seeing a lot more of each other, I decided to lay off the intense staring for now. Gotta build a bridge, not a wall, you know?
"I'm sorry, I won't stare too much," I explained, a small smile crossing my lips. Looking ahead, I could see the café was right around the corner. "No, that's not..." he started to say, but I stopped him suddenly.
I glanced ahead, relief washing over me as the familiar awning of the cafe came into view. "Oh, thank goodness! We're here, bunny."
"Bunny?" he sputtered, a surprised laugh escaping his lips.
"Yeah, it's your nickname," I replied, grinning. "It suits you, don't you think?" I added playfully. He chuckled and shook his head, clearly amused.
We pushed open the café door, the scent of roasted coffee beans flooding our senses. We weaved through tables towards the counter, where a waitress with a sunshine smile greeted us. "Hey there, welcome!" she chirped, sliding menus across the counter.
"Why do you think it fits?" he countered, a faint blush creeping up his neck. I couldn't resist a smug grin. It was kind of adorable how flustered I was making him.
"You're like a bunny," I teased, my voice dropping a playful octave. "All shy curiosity and big, soft eyes." I winked, watching as his blush deepened to a charming rose. The ease with which I could rattle him was definitely turning into a personal amusement park.
We both scanned the menu, already knowing exactly what we wanted. Hot chocolate, steaming and rich, for me. A vanilla latte, smooth and sweet, for him. We couldn't resist adding a slice of cheesecake to share – the picture in the menu was just too tempting!
With a smile, I approached the counter and addressed the friendly waitress. "Hey there, could we get one of those incredible-looking cheesecakes, along with a hot chocolate and a vanilla latte? Actually, make that two cheesecakes – we just had to!"
I reached for my wallet, ready to settle the bill, but Twilight shot his hand out, stopping me mid-motion. "Hold up!" I said playfully. "Didn't I say this was on me?" A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.
"You did," he conceded, "but a true gentleman wouldn't let the lady reach for her wallet, would he?"
"Ah, the gentleman thing," I teased, waving my hand dismissively. "This lady here can handle a bill or two, no worries." A flicker of satisfaction warmed my cheeks as I spoke.
He chuckled. "Hey, I never doubted that for a second," he assured me. "It's just... I'm not one to let someone else take care of the tab, you know?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Totally get it," I replied with a smile. "How about this: you get me next time?" I winked, finally pulling out my wallet and settling the bill.
His eyes widened a touch. "Next time, huh? You seem pretty confident we'll be seeing each other again." He raised an eyebrow playfully, a hint of skepticism dancing in his gaze.
Clutching my pearls in mock horror, I gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me, bunny, you're not down for a round two?" My voice dripped with playful accusation, but a tiny flicker of disappointment danced beneath the surface.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa there," he stammered, a blush creeping up his neck. "Absolutely not! I'd love to see you again," he added, a shy smile gracing his lips. My heart did a little happy flip-flop at the genuine warmth in his eyes. Honestly, the more I talked to him, the cuter he got.
"Oh, I know," I teased, relishing the rosy hue blooming on his cheeks. "I just have this feeling we'll be crossing paths again soon, wouldn't you say?" With that, we found a cozy table by the window, settling in to soak up the café's warm vibe.
He took a bite of his cheesecake and smiled at me. "This tastes nice," he said, with a hint of satisfaction. I grinned back at him.
He dug into the cheesecake, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he savored the first bite. "Mmm, this is good stuff," he mumbled with his mouth half-full (charming, right?). I grinned back, a warm feeling blossoming in my chest.
"Glad you like it," I replied, taking a careful sip of my hot chocolate. The rich, chocolaty warmth swirled on my tongue.
While Twilight was busy dissecting his dessert and latte (some people just have a focus on food!), I got the feeling he wasn't the type to chat with his mouth full. My gaze wandered around the cafe, taking in the sights and sounds. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm squares on the worn wooden tables. Laughter mingled with the rhythmic hiss of the espresso machine, creating a cozy, bustling atmosphere. A group of friends huddled in a corner booth, their animated conversation punctuated by bursts of joyful noise. A lone figure sat hunched over a laptop by the counter, seemingly lost in their own world, that was when my eyes suddenly landed on the television screen.
"Ugh, here comes the heartache," I grumbled under my breath, watching the news carefully. My eyes snagged on a story that hit me right in the feels. I knew this was coming, but damn, it still stings.
My heart hammered like a drum solo in my chest. I was definitely fired up, but there was something else churning under the anger. Jealousy? Maybe? It was hard to pinpoint exactly, but it was definitely building up inside me, a pressure cooker ready to explode.