Silhouette

Two

Chapter Two
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"I said I think I know you," he repeated.

A little bit taken aback by his remark, I cleared my throat and stated, "Well, I don't know you."

He turned his chin up and stared at me for a long moment. Then he drawled thoughtfully, "That nose. . ."

Flustered, I tried glanced down at my nose, only to end up seeing my shoes. "What's with my nose?"

"It's familiar."

This is weird.

Nonetheless, I crinkled my nose and brushed it off. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, what do you think I'm doing? I'm just sitting." He shrugged and grinned roguishly.

"I'm serious."

"What? You think I'm not serious?" he raised his eyebrows as if he was amazed at my remark. "In fact, I'm beyond serious that I'm even considering whether answering you would be worthwhile."

I rolled my eyes. "Look here, stranger. I haven't got all day to mess around with your nonsense. Just cut that crap and tell me what the heck . . ."

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" He put the diary down and stood up, laughing. "Would you look at that! Hold up. We have a mongrel!!!"

Had the bouquet in my hand not been arranged by Mrs. Clayton, the flowers would have landed flat on his face.

"That's my mom's stone you're standing on. Please get down."

The sight of someone sitting on my mom's headstone without a bit of respect was not something I wanted to see, and definitely not on our birthday. He looked about for a moment as though he couldn't believe it that he was really standing on a headstone. Then, he picked up his diary and jumped down.

While I read my mom's name, Caroline Lancaster, engraved on the stone, he came to stand next to me to read the epitaph and I though for someone his age, he was pretty broad and tall. Actually very tall. He was way past six feet. Maybe six three.

"No shit. You're Alana Lancaster." I heard him say, and when I looked up at him, shocked that he knew me, his eyes were gleaming in the sun.

"How do you know me? Who are you?"

I started to feel guilty, like the worst person on earth, because I thought he could've been an old friend. But then, his next reply neutralized all that guilt.

"You'll know me soon enough, Mongrel." He grinned, showing all his teeth.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, are you Brad Pitt now?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you find me that attractive." He shook his head matter-of-factly.

I snorted. "For all I care you can go sit by a river and die watching your own face, Ugly Narcissus."

He chuckled in return. "Whatever, Mongrel, Brad Pitt or an Ugly Narcissus, I'm pretty sure you're into me."

"You wish."

I turned toward the stone. There were so many things - millions actually - to say, but that jerk was still standing beside me and watching speculatively as if he was going to grade me. And of course, I was not going to say anything as long as he was around. It should be between me and my mom. There was no room for a stranger. I turned to him with a dead-glare. With a cheeky smile, he walked past my back to leave me alone. But apparently, he couldn't just leave without saying something.

Just as I bent to lay the flowers on the stone, I heard him chuckle from a distance. "Nice ass!"

My cheeks burned and my body immediately jerked up. I'd heard enough of my cousins laughing that I had absolute flat bottoms and I absolutely didn't need another one reminding me of that.