Arabella stirred the tea with her spoon, thankful for the heat it casted against her fingers. She stared down at it, completely ignoring the man that sat before her, stirring his own coffee.
They were seated in a quiant little coffee shop, Arabella's pick. Giovanni had followed behind her in his matte black Mercedes AMG.
She looked up once she noticed him put his mug down on the small round table. His eyes searched her face curiously, taking her in. She raised her brow and he sat back, putting his hands in his pockets as his lips pulled into a teasing smile.
"So, talk,"
"In a moment, I'm not done,"
"Done with what?"
"Observing you," He said. Her brows shot up, and then they frowned. She straightened her back then, bringing the mug to her lips as she looked between his eyes.
"What have you observed?" She asked once she swallowed the small sip of tea.
He shrugged, "You seem shy,"
"Why do you say that?" She asked, putting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table. "You only looked at me when I put my cup down, afraid of eye contact, I assume. You don't like looking people in the eye,"
"I'm looking at you, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are. It's because you like me, that's why you're looking at me like that,"
She snorted, rolling her eyes, "I met you ten minutes ago,"
He leaned forward on his forearms, "Time is of no relevance. And that night in the club, you didn't seem so shy then,"
"I was drunk,"
"And you lie quite often," He teased. Arabella narrowed her eyes at him, "I don't lie,"
He raised his eyebrow, "That's the second lie in less that fifteen minutes. I think you might have a problem," The girl couldn't help but laugh gently, shaking her head. He sat back, smirking.
"What's your boyfriend like?"
The question caught her off guard and she licked her lips before speaking, "Wonderful. And incredibly nice and he's so—"
"He sounds boring," He said, narrowing his eyes, awaiting her reaction. He was surprised when she laughed softly, "He is, and so am I. Boring relationships are safe,"
"But boring,"
"That's the only con," He exhaled sharply through his nose, "Boring, mediocre conversation and boring good mornings and nights and the worst of all, boring sex,"
She shrugged, "Safety above adventure,"
"Boring above good sex," He remarked. The girl rolled her eyes, "Sex isn't everything, Mr Armani,"
"I suppose. But one cannot live in such a boring relationship forever."
The girl took a sip from her tea, "I've been observing you too, you know?" She said then. She peaked his interest the third time in twenty minutes. He raised his brows, "Oh? And what did you see?"
"You talk with your hands and you sit like that," She motioned towards him, making him look down at his lap, "To assert dominance. Which is futile because you're the largest person in the building probably wherever you go,"
"I sit absentmindedly. I assert dominance with every breath I take, Arabella,"
She parted her lips, the way her name rolled off his tongue made her nearly fall off her chair. She cleared her throat, "Your ego is the size of a mountain,"
"As is your confidence."
"Have to have confidence if I want to be in a position many men had been in before,"
He nodded slowly, "You have cats at home, yes?" He asked, making the girl frown hard. "I ask because of the cat hair on your skirt,"
She slowly looked down, spotting three grey hairs on her skirt. She glared at him, swatting the hair off. "And you're very annoying,"
"And you're very beautiful,"
A wide smile took over her face and she looked down at her mug, stirring the few drops of tea that were left. "You don't get many compliments, do you?"
"Not from men,"
"It's unfortunate that your boyfriend is a fucking prick, isn't it?"
Her head shot up, "I'd compliment you every single moment I get but alas, you choose boring over adventure."
"You have no right in calling my boyfriend a prick,"
"He's a prick for not telling you how beautiful you look every second of every waking day, honey,"
She opened her mouth to continue arguing, but he tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. "You agree with me," He stated. The girl shook her head quickly, "Marcus is perfect," He nodded slowly, "Then why are you here with me? Searching for adventure, perhaps?"
What a bastard.
She clenched her jaw tightly, her nostrils flaring in the slightest bit. He raised his brows and Arabella was at a loss for words then, and so they merely looked at one another.
"You're a dick,"
"And you're an angel," He said, standing, "Thank you for the coffee and conversation, Arabella." She opened her mouth and closed it immediately, hating the way her brain told her to ask him to stay a bit longer.
"I'll see you," He smirked.
"Ciao, Giovanni."
Arabella was extremely good at lying, but she hated lying to the people the loved. So when she got to her and Marcus' apartment, he asked where her groceries were and she told him she just drove around a bit, tried to clear her mind.
"Why aren't you at work?"
"I couldn't work there, too much noise today. They're renovating the bathrooms." She nodded as he spoke, pulling a slice of bread from the bag and putting it in the toaster. It was around eleven now and Arabella was thankful the headache had finally subsided.
"Last night was good then?"
"It was okay, thank you,"
Just then, her phone vibrated in her purse. She fished it out and frowned at the unknown number before she reluctantly slid her thumb across the screen, bringing the phone to her ear.
"There's a song called Arabella, you know that?"
She frowned, turning away from Marcus. "Who is this?"
"You should search it up, it's quite good,"
"Oh, my god. How did you get my number?" She heard laughing at the other end and she almost groaned out. "I have the entire schools employees numbers, darling."
"That's bullshit,"
"Contrary to popular belief, Arabella, it's not. What's your boring boyfriend doing?"
The girl rolled her eyes, "Good bye,"
"Wait! Wait, all right. Forgive me. I'm calling in regards to the special classes, do you want me to pay you for them?"
"No, that won't be needed,"
"Are you sure? I'll be more than happy to do so if you want me to," She lolled it over, tapping her fingers on the kitchen counter as she thought.
"Fine, fifty pounds per hour,"
"Hundred."
"You cannot negotiate like that, Giovanni, you have to negotiate for lower,"
"I make fifty pounds every two minutes, darling. I'll give you whatever you want. Does hundred sound good?"
She found herself smiling then, and wondered if she had been smiling the entire conversation long. She sighed, running her hand through her now loosened hair.
"Hundred and fifty,"
"Done."