She eventually realized that she was the only one left in the café. The barista was wiping down the tables and preparing to close for the night before she finally ordered the check and put away her laptop. Her design was far from complete, but she was still satisfied with how much she was able to accomplish in such a short span of time. With a backpack on her back and a textbook in her arm, she made her way to the subway station across the street, getting off as usual on the forth stop. The street lights illuminated the path to her building, where a familiar and unexpected young man was waiting for the elevator in the lobby.
“Hey,” she said with enthusiasm.
“Hi,” he replied. “I thought I’d run into you?”
“Well that’s a fair assumption.”
“Yeah. Where you still on campus?”
She nodded. “Big assignment. What are you doing here?”
“A friend of mine just moved in.”
“Which floor?”
“Thirteenth, the apartment below yours actually. Why don’t you come meet him? I think you two would get along.”
“How come?”
“He’s very charming. You’ll enjoy him.”
“Umhum,” she replied suspiciously. “Sure. Let me just drop off my things.”
She set her bag and book in the living room, flung her sweater onto the arm of the sofa then proceeded with her friend downstairs. The new neighbor was a man of medium-build with mess dark hair, scruffy beard and thin-rimmed glasses, who gave a small smile when he saw her. His smile, which could have easily been interpreted as one of mere politeness, was actually one of subtle intrigue that exuded confidence above all else. His home, on the other hand, was rather bland. It had all the basic amenities that a home ought to have, in addition to a flat screen TV and a collection of video games and books, but it lacked character. Nothing about it could reflect the personality of its inhabitant, aside from the obvious fact that he was male. It was her belief, that someone whose home was so meticulously unsettling was either someone who had something to hide or someone who didn’t have a concrete personality, but she didn’t want to judge him too quickly. She was overcome by curiosity, though; for he didn’t seem like just an ordinary guy.
He poured each of them a glass of juice and sat himself in the chair next to her, inconspicuously watching her every move. He rarely cared enough to observe a woman unless she spiked his interest. This is not to say that he hadn’t been with women that don’t entirely interest him, but they were not ones to observe. This one was different. She was coy with a timid smile and very expressive eyes. The kind of eyes that one could not easily dismiss. However, her timidity seemed to come from her unfamiliarity with her surroundings and nothing more. She was certainly someone worth knowing, especially since she was able to cope with their mutual friend, a notoriously complex character.
An Artist at Heart 