Here is a Fact

Here is a Fact ( part2)

Second part :)

"Who was that?" She had asked on the way home, driving fast and reckless.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window, shutting my eyes. "No one."

"Well, you got his number. Had to be someone." She rolled down her window, the whir of the highway wind deafening to my ears, dug around in her purse until she pulled out a cigarette, effectively lighting it before swerving into the lane next to us.

"Onna," I said, somewhat patronizingly, even to my own ears, "I didn't get his number. He took mine." And I meant that quite literally.

I recalled the event back to my mind, how he came closer, leaned his body against the brick next to me. "So," he'd said, he eyes boring into the side of my head, attempting to meet a gaze I refused to return.

"So," I said. I could feel him breathing next to me, watching me.

I was suddenly nervous, possibly even anxious, though I couldn't tell you why. I'd only ever had that breathless, chest-tightening feeling once before, and for whatever reason I couldn't relate that feeling to the situation I was in. It obviously wasn't the same.

He held out a hand to me. I made a show of studying it warily, as if the long fingers and broad palm were somewhat sketchy, before I shook it.

He laughed, but his grip was strong, skin somewhat rough, hand dwarfing mine. Something I would expect from a guy.

"Cable," He said then. The name fit him.

I realized then that it was my turn. "Nielle."

"You can call me Cale. Everyone does." I smirked at this, cocking a brow at him, conveying what, I wasn't sure, maybe just that I wasn't everyone. He shrugged. A beer bottle materialized in his hand, which he then took a swig of. "Or whatever."

"Ok, Whatever." It was a lame joke, but I figured it was late; I could chalk it up to incoherence. Or nerves. Or maybe I'd just never see him again, that was always an option.

But he did me the honor of laughing, though it was more at me than with me. "Mmm, sense of humor. I like that." He tilted his bottle in my direction, raising a respectful brow, flirtatious smirk etched on his face.

Studying his face, I began to realize he was all dark features, brooding without being overly so. It gave him a pensive edge that was for sure. I realized that maybe I was foolish to write him off at first, and a heat flooded me, slightly embarrassed. It was him who was gracing the other with his presence, not the other way around.

With that, I decided I needed to leave.

"Well, Whatever," I began, crossing my arms and walking backward, towards the street, pulling out my cell phone, "It was lovely meeting you. But I've got to go."

He seemed to jump to attention then.

"Wait, no," He began, following me and pulling out his phone. I wasn't sure what made me do it, maybe the soothing voice, maybe just the sincerity in his actions, but I did wait.

I watched as he pushed a few buttons, and then looked up at me, "What's your number?"

Maybe I looked wary, quite possibly angry or offended, because he felt compelled to add, "I don't do this often. I swear. But inside..." He grasped for words, looked behind me like they were written somewhere back there, "I saw you."

He grinned, one I would describe as goofy, wide, the kind of grin that thinks, recalls memories. "What about it?" I asked, chuckling.

"You looked... silly. And I mean that in the best way. You looked fun and cool and real, right up there in the front. I think I decided I liked you right then."

With his face so genuine, so exquisitely formed and me standing there looking rumpled and worn out, I took his phone and placed my number there, just before walking off.

Now, as Onna flicked the dying embers out the window, waiting patiently for more information, I said just quietly enough, "He was someone."

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