The bungalow in question was inside a gated community which did not allow public transport inside. Aria walked towards the house number that had been indicated to her. The first thing she noticed about this place was that there was no rain in here. It was as if the gates prevented the London weather from entering. She had known about this area in general. Wanstead was mostly a locality of upstarts with small and medium sized villas with lush garden spaces. But this gated community, seemed a mystery. The sky was still a cloudy grey with not a star in sight, but the ground was dry. After walking for almost ten minutes Aria found herself pinpointing the exact house as given in the address. On the dry pavement there remained a pool of almost dried blood. It did not look like it proceeded from a small cut to the forehead.
Aria walked up the front porch but before she could ring the bell the door opened and she stood facing a stranger, the stranger, she realized. She felt her heart accelerate in her chest at the sudden appearance. Her eyes took in his tall stature which towered well above her five foot six. What captivated her the most was the pair of deep blue, almost violet eyes framed in thick burgundy brows that lead to a pale forehead leading to rich dark hair. She allowed her eyes to trail down the sharp nose and to the thick lips and a well defined jaws. For the first time in her life Aria felt heat and though she had read about it a thousand time, the feeling of the slow burn on her cheeks and in her heart sent her into a panic attack. She almost missed the smirk in her observations which slowly evaporated noticing her wild eyes. The man reached forward and grabbed her wrist and as if nothing was amiss her heartrate came to normal and her panic flooded away.
"Your acquaintance is inside. Aria, I presume." The man commented, as if nothing was amiss in a girl having a panic attack at his very sight. What kind of man treats a panic attack as if it were nothing? His voice seemed to be deeper and richer in person. He spoke plainly but from his appearance it could be concluded that he wasn't a native Britisher.
"I am from a small country on the border of Asia and Europe. It isn't registered as a country in the world map. It comes under the jurisdiction of the Vatican City. I was around for a business venture. Your friend was lucky that it was me he chanced across. " He answered her unspoken thoughts but perhaps those were obvious queries. The man looked old, almost in his late thirties but a lot of it could be accredited to the fact that he was wearing a button-down shirt with linen slacks at eight in the evening on a weekday. Aria tried to distract herself from obsessing about a stranger who didn't even bother to divulge his name. Her eyes fell onto something that got her even more excited.
" That's an eleventh century Chinese flask from the Song dynasty." she commented. Beside it she noticed a bust accredited to Bernini. On the wall was a tablet painted in eighth century India. "This is an art historian's paradise." she exclaimed. If these were even imitations it was enough of a reason for an art vlogger like Harry to be lurking around. Did Harry attempt a burglary and was caught in the act and divulged her name as an accomplice? Is that why she had been brought here, Aria wondered.
"These are originals rewards from the Vatican for may various activities," The man replied pointing to a few art pieces known to the world as lost. The fact that he was repeatedly answering her unspoken thoughts was getting more bizarre by the moment, not to mention that Aria was actually feeling hot in the room. Though her CIPA prevented her from feeling heat and pain in particular Aria had felt nervousness before. She knew the feel of perspiration. She felt the beads of sweat on her forehead and she was surprised. This man was associated with the Vatican Government. "Are you an art historian by profession?" the deep voice continued.
Aria whirled around, losing her balance but the man caught her just before she fell face first into the marble floor. The touch almost burned her. He was burning up or was it her weird sense receptors? She decided to ignore the sense she never truly had. "I am a student of Art History and Anthropology at the Warrenshire Community College. Unemployed so far," she stammered out.
The man in front of her smirked. He was leaning against the wall beside the terracotta tablet depicting a mother and her child. He was calm and composed with his eyes holding a glint of a secret knowledge Aria couldn't fathom. "What is your favourite chapter?" One of his hand remained on her elbow as he rubbed it up and down her arm, leaving a trail of smouldering burns that she was not supposed to feel.
It took Aria a while to gather her thoughts. The touch was platonic and yet so sensual. She couldn't help moaning out in pleasure before replying. The man pulled her closer, smelling her hair, his lips hovering millimetres from her skin. Aria suddenly registered the question that was asked of her. "I love art history itself. However my favourite part is Myth detection." she said, not too confident of her thoughts at the moment.
The man pushed her away, creating some breathing place between them, but keeping the firm grip on her right elbow. " Your degree involved an internship, right? Did they not express interest in hiring you?" he asked, in a more formal tone.
"Artiqa, the gallery where I interned in does not have the vacancy but have requested for my resume in case they can provide me with a position." Regaining some of her composure.
"Artiqa mostly deals with modern pieces, not much of an opportunity for a degree in Art History." He noted, which surprised Aria. He was probably a collector or a curator, given the state of his home.
"The project that I was a part of dealt with the revival of ancient artistic styles." Aria informed him.
The man nodded, satisfied at his inspection of her. Aria couldn't help the feeling that this was more of an interview than a rescue mission. The thought brought Harry to her mind. But the man wasn't finished with his interrogation.
"Have you submitted a resume at the Bellini Antique House?" The man asked, all of a sudden, mentioning the once place Aria did not dare apply. Everyone knew of the place. It wasn't an antique house however, it was an Art Museum of gigantic proportion. It started out as an antique house centuries ago and never bothered to change the name. It never needed a rebranding. It is the Holy Grail of Art History.
"Bellini, as everyone is aware of is a high end Antique art dealership. I don't have the experience to be selected by them." Aria told him, hoping to see the remorse on the face of Mr. Know-it-all. However there was none.
"Do you have a copy of your resume on you?" He asked in turn. Aria blinked and nodded. She had already confided in him that she was job hunting. Would it hurt to give him a copy of her resume? There wasn't much of any information provided there other than the name of parents who didn't care checking up on her. She opened her folder that she carried and gave him the stapled pages that consisted of all of her life's achievements.
"I know someone in Bellini. I can get you an interview. The onus of getting selected is however on you," He informed her.
Aria nodded, not realizing what the discussion was headed towards. His eyes roamed over her body almost as hungrily as hers devoured him. The words they uttered seemed blasphemous to the mood of the hour. Aria wondered if this is what her friend Rayne would call eye-fucking? It was bad that she wasn't due from South America for a couple of more days. The rest of the night would be spent in a lot of girly giggles if she were here.
"I will fetch your friend." The man concluded, bringing her out of her thoughts of debaucheries.
Aria nodded again as the stranger left. He brought forward an inebriated Harry. Great! Aria thought. Handling a sober Harry was quite a pain. How was she able to trust a sloshed Harry to keep his hands to himself? She remembered the few parties that she attended on his behest, each of which turned into a groping session where she felt nothing other than anger and resentment.
" He's drunk?" she couldn't help commenting. The man mistook her fears for wariness. It was difficult to explain that a young girl was not afraid of the drunken state of a man who was already interested in her. She was afraid of having to move his hands away from the body.
"He fell and hit his head. He should be fine by morning." The man stated as if it were every other day he rescued such men.
The stranger proffered a piece of paper with a mobile number scribbled in meticulous handwriting. "Once he recovers, I would like to know what he was doing outside my house. I trust that you can give him my number," he enquired.
Aria snatched the paper from his hand, careful of inappropriate touches. "Do you think you can....um..." she hesitated. She tried to convince herself that this was not a hopeless attempt to prolong her encounter with the stranger.
"Do you wish for me to give you and your friend a ride home?" The man asked explicitly.
Aria dumbly nodded once more. He nodded back amused at her reactions. He did not dally. It was not long after that they were seated in a black Audi, Harry in the back and her riding shotgun with the beautiful stranger. It was going to be a long ride and given the fact that she lived in the opposite direction to Harry's dormitory she dreaded her ride home. She would probably be the last passenger to get down at her stop tonight. It would be nice if the stranger offered a ride or even better a place to stay. But then again he could be a murderer for all she knew. She didn't even know his name which seemed so odd.
"You never gave me a name." Aria blurted out realizing the oddity of the situation.
"David" he answered nonchalantly, as if concealing his name was a mere oversight on his part.
"Hello David" Aria blushed at the ease with which his name rolled off her tongue.
"Hello Aria" the stranger smiled with a glint of mischief in his eyes. If Aria thought he looked beautiful with his smirk his smile was to die for.
The night was a peaceful one. The rain had stopped and the roads, though slick with reminder of the precipitation, seemed oddly sated by the downpour. The skies had quietened down which was quite a new discovery for Aria. She didn't the last time she was outside the house without rain pouring down. The ride to London Fields, Hackney, was supposed to be only half an hour long. However, the traffic ensured that it took them almost thrice the time. Though the A116 were deceptively empty, Cathall Road and A106 ensured that they would be out on the road for some time.
"The weather seems to have taken a turn for the better," David remarked trying to make conversation.
"It's probably because you lighten up my mood," Aria teased, trying to take the conversation towards flirting, unsuccessfully.
"I defied your expectations, did I not?" he spoke triumphantly, knowing that he had outdone all expectation she had carried off him.
"I apologize if I came off as wary in the beginning. Harry has had a history of playing pranks on me. We are school friends who transitioned into college and things didn't mature well." Aria confided, recalling the time when Harry too would tease her in the sophomore years as the freak. His teasing stopped once she had saved him from a bully. Then it transcended to a fascination she had tried her best to avoid. No one could understand her true situation. If only CIPA was the crux of her problems, Aria would be extremely lucky. She wondered how David would react to her situation if he were ever to be enlightened. The fact that he was older didn't give her any hope that he would be open to the oddity that was her life. He would perhaps suggest the same thing her father had, when she was eight years old. It was her nanny who had saved her from being institutionalized for speaking the truth.
This man however seemed different. She hoped he was different. She remembered the touch that had made her feel something for the first time in her life. Was her CIPA truly cured? Aria pinched herself but felt nothing that she was supposed to. Pain, it's called pain, she told herself as he looked up at the stranger with longing. She realized that she was fantasizing about the stranger when the car came to an abrupt halt. Aria found themselves parked outside the boy's hostel where Harry was staying.
"I believe your boyfriend is unconscious. Do you require my assistance to carry him to his room?" The man questioned with a note of disappointment.
Harry snored softly to prove the point. "He isn't my boyfriend. I will just call his room mates to carry him up." These were the friends who avoided her because of past experiences. Nonetheless she had some of their numbers just because Harry used to make prank calls to keep her entertained. She called up Stefan, the boy who tried to kiss her when she was fifteen. That resulted in a fight with Harry that lasted for months. They ultimately made up but she was a taboo for them to discuss still. Needless to say, he didn't like her but he didn't hate her as it was a good five years ago. Stefan came down with another boy, Rishi, and they carried Harry to his room.
"He is a bit sloshed and he had hit his head. So, don't let him lie down," she charged them. They were experienced in both booze and head injuries, so Aria garnered that no elaboration was needed. With one part of the adventure fulfilled all she had to do now was return to her home in another direction. Aria realized that it was very late and she would have to hurry to catch the last tube to her stop to Lambeth Palace. She conveyed her concern to the beautiful stranger which she realized was a mistake only after revealing her address. But then again her address was clearly stated in her resume a copy of which was kept at his home.
"You won't make it." he warned knowing full well that she was pushing her luck. They had a better chance of reaching by car but then again, given the traffic it would be more than an hour in a direction opposite to where they came from. Aria couldn't ask the man to drive her home and make a return journey twice as long. Neither was she ready and willing to say goodbye to him for the night.
"What do you suggest!" she asked, pushing the ball in his court. She knew that she had made her interest fairly well known with how much time she had spent gawking him and drooling over his perfections. What he said next was not exactly the answer she desired but it was dangerously close to it.
"I have an extra room. I have to return home anyways. You could leave in the morning." He suggested without giving much away.