Saviors (Completed)

11. Dancing In The Rain

As Tony came to a halt, his hands strolled up to hold around my face. He whipped a drop away. "You're smiling," he said, tilting his head. "That suits you."

I glanced into his eyes. I would describe his eyes as, like the ocean, they were iridescent and flecked with every shade of blue.

The lines on his face etched the story of a happy life. His crow's feet spoke of laughter and the deep creases in his cheeks told of a man who gave away smiles like they were wishes. And he really did. Everytime I would peek at him, he would flash a million-dollar smile.

His laughing was like ripples in a still pond after a stone has been thrown in. It radiated outwards through the empty street.

"Let's get you inside," he said, leading me inside his shop.

He guided me to a chair and I took a seat as he slung his coat over my shoulders. "I'll just go grab a towel," he told me before strolling out behind a door.

I wrapped myself in the thick, warm coat and pulled my legs up on the chair. I twirled my head so I looked out on the street. Hardly splashing droplets hit the glass window. The sky only floated with more gray clouds there shadowed every corner of town.

I watched raindrops race down the windows. The occasional wave of a puddle could be exciting.

A man stopped as he came to the shop. His hands were showed down in his pockets. His dark hair stuck to his face because of the still pouring rain. as he lifted his gaze and caught mine I stiffened.

His emerald green eyes stared directly at me. His expression was like a blank sheet of paper. His features softly softened as our stare became longer and more intense. It was like I could feel his breath on my skin, even though he were outside and I was inside.

His eyes were hopeless and his mouth there usually were caught in a boyish smirk, were pulled out in a solid thin line.

He shook his head and walked further down the street, away from me.

I didn't understand why my heart would sink every time he left me. I didn't care, I will never do, but something about him leaving made me want to grasp his hand and make him stay, make him hold me again.

"Here." I looked up at Tony, who gave me a white, fluffy towel. He looked at the same spot Anthony just had been standing. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Nothing. Thanks for the towel," I said and dried my hair together with whatever else possible.

"Do you need a drive home?" he asked, scratching his neck.

I looked out the window. A little sunshine shined through the holes in the cloud covered sky. "No thanks, I'll just walk," I answered politely, handing his coat back. "Thanks for this, Tony, it was amazing."

He bowed, "an honor."

I smiled at him before I left him standing with his own coat and looking after me.

A cold breeze fleed over me as soon as I stepped out. A little further on the street, a broad figure stood with his hands in his pockets and stared at the empty air. He didn't do much other than just looking forward.

Could he be?

"Anthony?"

The man turned around and I was once again joined with those amazing green eyes.

"Princess?"

Stuck in a trance state, I stared at his eyes that were completely void of any emotion. I didn't dare move a muscle and he looked like he thought the same. We stood like two statues and stared at each other. If anyone walked past us they would think creepy thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, finally finding the courage to walk closer to him.

He bit his lip and avoided my eyes. "I wanted to talk to you," he answered truthfully.

My eyebrows lifted. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," he breathed out after a long, piercing silence. "I wanted to talk to you." 

"So...you don't want to talk to me anymore?" The question seemed weird since I in some way knew he still wanted to talk to me. However, he kept using the word 'wanted' instead of 'want'. Do guys have to be this confusing? Isn't it suppose to be the other way around?

"Yes exactly!" My eyebrows lifted as the words had left his delicate lips. So he didn't want to talk to me? He looked at me in surprise. "No, that wasn't what I meant, I meant that I want to talk to you, I just didn't think in that moment."

I stood dumb folded and stared at him, moving around with his muscular arms, trying to explain to me what he meant. "I-I think I want to apologize."

"You think?" I said, regaining my brain. 

"No, I want to apologize," he corrected, laying his firm hands on each of my shoulders. I glanced down at his hand. Water dripped through my shirt, wetting my bare shoulders. His touch was cold and shivers ran through my body. 

"That night you told me that just saying you were sorry didn't mean anything and that you needed to show that you were sorry." I nodded, remembering the conversation clearly. To be honest, I hadn't had anything else on my mind the last three days. "So, I planned on doing that, but when I saw you sitting in there something just snapped inside of me and I totally forgot what I was going to do."

He was going to show that he was sorry?

"You're confusing," I admitted, tilting my head to get a clearer look at his rather close face. 

He smiled, shaking his head. "I know." It was only a whisper, but it was so soothing and relaxing. It crawled over my skin, leaving a trail of tickle. 

"Can I ask you something? Something personal?" he asked in a low voice, avoiding my eyes on purpose. 

My breath was caught in my chest and I gulped. My arms were slightly trembling. What would he ask? Did he know about my father? 

"I don't know."

"Just this once," he begged, finally meeting my eyes in an intense stare.

"Only this once," I said, biting my lip. 

He drew in a deep breath, tightening the grip on my shoulders. "Why did it hurt so much when your brother left?" he asked, staring directly into my eyes.  

Everything stopped. The rain stopped pouring, my chest stopped lifting and my mouth stopped working. I knew the answer to his question, but was I ready for him to hear it? Was I really ready to let him in one more time?

In some wicked way, I was. 

"It hurt because it mattered," I quoted from my favorite book. Those five words described it so good that I couldn't help use them. It seemed like they were created just for that moment. 

"Did you just quote John Green," Anthony asked, with his normal boyish smirk back on his lips. It brought a sudden warmth to my chest, knowing he still was that bad boy with the devilish smile. 

"I did."

"You're incredible." Thos two words didn't cool down the already burning fire inside of me, it only seemed to make it burn a little more for every time I would repeat the words. 

Even though we had shared a good moment, my opinion about him hadn't changed. 

We were never going to be friends or anything else. 

...

Personally, I would have accepted Anthony as my friend by now. Let's be honest here, who wouldn't have a Spanish god as a friend? I would. 

Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter and if you did, then make sure to hit the little star and vote. 

Thanks for reading.