Chapter Eight
L eonard watched Jill out of the corner of his eye as she sat on the bench eating her chips. Her face thoughtful as she chewed, but every now and again a frown would crease her brow.
“What exactly are we doing here?” Leonard asked, clearing his throat, uncomfortable with the silence.
“People watching,” Jill replied, popping another chip into her mouth.
“And you do this why?”
“It’s interesting,” she informed him with a shrug, before popping another slither of greasy fried potato into her mouth and chewing.
“Why?” Leonard asked, nearly rolling his eyes because only recently he’d told Lara; one of the phoenix, off for using that particular word. Yet, only a few days later, and he himself was here asking questions exactly like a three-year-old, no articulation.
Jill pulled her feet beneath her and leaned back on the bench, wiping her hands on a paper napkin, before throwing her chip wrapper and napkin into the waste bin beside them. “I find people fascinating, I try to figure out when I see a couple together what drew them to each other in the first place.”
“How so?” Leonard asked, finding himself interested in her views.
“That couple over there,” she said, pointing to a couple walking along holding hands. He was tall, slim, cropped blond hair, she was short, stocky with a pretty face and long red hair. “When I see a couple together that are so different, I wonder what it was that they saw in each other to begin with. What their story is, how they met, whether they were friends, colleagues?” she murmured with a shrug, pulling her knees up beneath her chin, eyes still on the couple.
Just then, the woman turned, grabbed the tall blond by the back of the head and dragged his mouth down to her own. She then set about kissing him as if she was trying to remove his tonsils with her tongue. All while she stroked him through his pants and rode his thigh, and in the middle of the pavement. Jill sputtered, her knees dropping, feet hitting the floor, until she sat bolt upright on the bench, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“I’d say he likes how demure she is,” Leonard laughed, popping a greasy chip into his own mouth, chewing, then grimacing as he swallowed.
Why she couldn’t have gone to a decent restaurant was beyond him, he thought as the taste of the old oil coated his mouth. His enjoyment of her reaction to lust at work as he finished off his own chips was ruined as he thought about his own lack of finesse. He closed his eyes in annoyance, disgusted with his own inability to charm her.
Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut.
He was nearly five-hundred-years-old for god sake; he should be able to control himself. But no, he’d had to take a pop shot and make light of her genuine interest in humans and their mating habits. He was old, cynical and lacked the ability to feel the softer emotions. Yes, he could feel compassion, but romantic love, no, not in his vocabulary. Yes, he loved his parents and his sister, and was even fond of his new circle of friends whom he’d become close to recently. But that was about it though. He’d never come across a woman yet he could not walk away from. Nor did he find himself willing to spend more than a few hours swapping bodily fluids. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to be in a relationship.
He watched Jill again out of the corner of his eye and something about her niggled him, some familiarity as her head tilted, but whatever it was he couldn’t fathom it. Unfortunately, due to his faux pas, she now sat beside him as stiff as a board, indignation pouring off her. The tension was back between them. Add in the fact that he couldn’t control her, and he found it both disconcerting and intriguing, especially with that niggle about her. Wiping his hands on his own napkin, he turned his head, and quickly slipped his flask out of his pocket. He took a sip of the soothing blood; to help settle his stomach and remove the taste of grease, before putting it back in his pocket. All this was done before Jill had even finished her sigh.
Jill sat on the bench beside the black-haired hunk, trying to figure out his angle. She’d watched the way women behaved around him. I mean, at least six of them had come up to the table as she’d sat with him, then the doorman, and the woman in the chippy.
So, what was he doing here with her?
Was it the challenge thing?
Was it because she’d not fallen at his feet, fluttering her eyelashes and opening her legs, offering up her body for his use?
“Damn it all to hell, why hadn’t they allowed pictures to be uploaded on that damn site,” she groaned.
“What are you talking about?” Leonard asked, trying to follow as she seemed to switch topics.
“The dating site,” she murmured, not looking at him.
“You wished they’d allowed photographs on the dating site, why?” Now he was confused. Obviously, as it was an immortal dating site, photographs would not be used, due to the whole immortality and trying not to leave evidence of that. In Jill’s case, she didn’t know that, because even though he’d told her he was a vampire, she just thought he was just yanking her chain.
“Why, because then I’d still be at home, sitting in my favourite pyjamas, drinking hot chocolate and watching a Friend’s re-run on the television.”
“You’d rather be at home now than here with me?” he felt truly insulted.
“I would never have chosen someone who looked like you in the first place,” she sighed.
“Why, what’s wrong with the way I look?” he asked, frowning.
“Nothing, you’re practically perfect.”
He preened at this, then saw her drooped shoulders and turned towards her, sitting sideways on the cold wooden bench so he could not only hear but see her. She gave a lot away with her very pretty face. Her eyes were a beautiful deep brown, threaded with gold and green. She had a cute nose, with a very slight uplift at the tip, her mouth was something else though. Her bottom lip fuller, thicker, biteable. He even liked her hair, although he’d prefer the multi toned brown and gold tresses down because her slim neck was a temptation. Especially as he watched the pulse flickering like a beacon, just beneath her delicate skin.
“I take it I’m really not your type?”
“Look Leo, you are a handsome man, great body, impeccable dress sense.”
“There’s a but in there, I can hear it.”
“You’re too perfect,” she told him.
“How so?”
“You attract too much attention. I’m just your average female. I work a nine-to-five job I hate, to pay the rent on a house not big enough to swing a cat. I have simple tastes. I enjoy an evening spent talking to friends, slobbing around the house and eating ice cream out of the carton. I don’t wear designer clothes or eat out at fancy restaurants. Well, unless you class George as a designer label.”
“Do you mean Giorgio Armani?” Leonard was even more confused now, Armani was a superb designer, his absolute favourite, he loved the cut and style.
“No, George by Asda, the superstore,” she told him dryly.
“Oh, okay,” he’d not heard of either, not that he’d admit to it. “And this is a problem, why?”
“You are out of my league. I would never be able to compete with someone who looks or dresses the way you do.”
“Oh, my god, you are a snob.”
“I am not,” she sputtered. “I’m a girl who was brought up on a rough council estate and went to the local comprehensive high school. I didn’t even attend college; how does that make me a snob?”
“You’re a snob, you’re biased. You are labelling me as unacceptable because I come from a different background to you. You are a snob.”
“I am not, I’m realistic. We come from different worlds Leo, we have absolutely nothing in common. I bet you’ve never bought your clothes off the rack or worried if you had enough money left in the bank to buy a loaf of bread.”
“No, I can’t say that I have. But then again, I’m not the one who’s holding that against you, now, am I?”
“I’m, grrrr,” she groaned, closing her eyes in frustration as he just looked at her. “You are taking it the wrong way; I am the one who is not good enough. I am never good enough or enough full stop,” she whispered sadly. With that, she pushed up from the bench and shoulders drooped, bag slung over them, walked away.
Leonard sat there, staring at her, dumbfounded. Swallowing at the desolation and hurt he heard in her words. The hollowness of her loneliness resonated with him. They may come from different worlds; in more than just class, but they were both alone - even in a roomful of people. He could not let her walk away, no matter how much she wanted to, and not just because it would mean he’d renege on the rules that Luc had set for this farce. He didn’t want her to. He was now convinced that she was in fact the woman he’d bumped into outside Thomas’s office. She was the woman he’d been interested in pursuing before this had begun. Her walk was now exactly the same, down to the way her shoulders rolled inwards in her hurry.
He was now in unknown territory, a first for him. He found that he wanted to show her that she was valued, that she meant something and was good enough. He just had to remember that he had to keep his pants zipped for five dates while doing it, or he may well get the girl. But in doing so, he’d lose any chance whatsoever in repairing his friendship with Luc.
“Bollocks,” he moaned, as he pushed up and went after her retreating, dejected figure.