A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! They're what's really keeps me inspired and pumped to keep on writing. Keep them coming! So, with no further adieu, on to chapter two!
Rosie was in an especially good mood the next day. She spoke up even more spiritedly- if that was possible - in class discussions, surprising even the teachers that knew her passion for English so well. Professor Johnson, probably her favorite literature teacher, was especially puzzled and addressed her after class while students were filing out.
"Romeo and Juliet is not a particularly uplifting and cheerful play," the bearded man countered thoughtfully, "especially what we covered today: the last act. Yet, you chirped happily ever other moment like some twittering bird more annoying than the stupid ones outside." He raised a brow. "And they cause a ruckus enough by taking daily suicide dives into my glass window."
Rosie threw her head back slightly and laughed in pure amusement at his dry chiding.
"But Mr. Johnson, its such a beautiful story about this love that doesn't happen everyday," she protested lightly, her smile distant and almost wistful. "The fact that they died for their love only makes the story all the more powerful."
Johnson just shook his head, thinking this Miss Harris was getting crazier and more like other normal, young women of her age, everyday.
"Disappointing," he muttered, as she walked away.
Even her friends noticed something was up, as the trio were walking outside during their lunch break.
"Okay, so when did you guys set the date?" Katy Lee asked, her auburn curls bouncing about her shoulders as she walked.
Not surprisingly, this caught Rosie completely off-guard. She arched a brow suspiciously.
This did not sound good.
"Date?"
"Yeah," she continued, smiling knowingly and nudging Rosie with her elbow. "You and Eric. He did ask you, didn't he?" For a moment she seemed doubtful, but shook it away. "He must have! Oh, come on! Give in. Its so obvious."
Rosie and Lily exchanged an uneasy glance. The latter had to ask what they both already assumed she meant.
"Ask her what?"
"To marry him, of course!" Katy looked surprised, as if this were indeed the most obvious thing in the entire world.
Rosie's cheeks instantly tinged pinkish in a blush. The idea of Eric proposing to her had not even crossed her mind. To be honest, the blonde-haired boy had hardly crossed her mind all day. Smiling faintly, she shook her head and lowered her gaze.
"He didn't ask me," she murmured, feeling both relieved and... immediately guilty that she was relieved Katy had not been talking about that someone else her thoughts had, indeed, been circling about since last night.
Lily, however, was not relieved. Looking sharply to Katy, brow raised poignantly, she demanded answers.
"Did he tell you he was going to ask Rosie?"
Katy had a genuine dear-in-the-headlights look on her face. Rosie had to admit it was amusing, seeing the taller girl all but cower under Lily's quietly accusing stare and questions.
"No! No, of course not!"
"Then why did you ask her if he asked her to marry him?"
"I just thought that... well..." her eyes danced to Rosie, " you looked so happy, I just figured your boyfriend had something to do with it."
Lily stilled looked annoyed. Rosie, however, felt more understanding. Katy had made an honest mistake, really. Shaking her head gently, she leaned over and patted the confused girl's arm gently.
"I'm just having a good day, Katy. That's all."
That was enough to end the topic. There wasn't much else said of any real interest to Rosie before Katy took off a short moment later, anyway, to join some guy for lunch. When the two were finally alone, Lily started her own interrogation, targeting a different victim.
"You're lying," she said quietly, after a while of eyeing and staring. Rosie shot her a look.
"Lying? About what?"
"Really, Rosie," Lily frowned a bit, not buying her answer. "I'd like to think I know my big sister a little better than that."
"Well, I'd like to think my little sister knows when to stop assuming so much," Rosie countered mildly.
Lily didn't take the hint. Or, if she did, she ignored it, instead eyeing Rosie skeptically, her mind still hard at work.
"Its that science guy from yesterday, isn't it?" she accused in wonder, not seemingly upset or angry, or anything so drastic, really. "The one with the most peculiar name..."
"Otto Octavius," Rosie prompted without waiting a single beat.
"Strange," Lily frowned, wrinkling her nose in slight disgust. "What parents in their right minds would name their kid...that?"
Rosie rolled her eyes. "I think it's a nice name..."
"Might as well just name him Octopus..."
"...and an interesting name," the other shot back with an amused half-grin.
"... I suppose, if you like that sort of thing..."
"Yes, well it's the perfect name for an intelligent scientist."
Lily stopped abruptly and gasped. "Oh, no..."
Her sister frowned, also stopping to look back at her. "What?"
"Rosie, no..."
"Lily, what?"
"I can't believe it..."
"Believe what?"
"You. You like him."
It was Rosie's turn to be surprised, her mouth falling open a bit. "I do not."
"Yes, you do! It really is obvious now," she sighed, walking up to her bewildered sister. "You like him... and you're going to break Eric's heart because of him."
Rosie found herself suddenly starting to feel irritated, and it showed in her voice when she snapped, "Well, now this is ridiculous! What are you, a fortune-teller, or just a really bad actress?"
Lily wasn't affected. "Rosie... don't be that way. What else am I supposed to think? You didn't even tell me what went on last night.."
"Nothing went on! We just took a walk. Am I not allowed to have new male friends, or is taking the walk with them that bothers you?"
"That look you gave him yesterday was more than just a look between new friends."
"So you read minds now, too?" Rosie half-laughed sharply and sarcastically. "Amazing, Lily, but I think your powers are in great need of some fine-tuning."
"There's my two favorite girls!" a voice suddenly called out.
From behind them, two long arms draped across either of their shoulders and none other than Eric appeared between the two of them. He was grinning from ear to ear, and Rosie immediately felt guilty... for some reason. She silently scolded herself. There was nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing at all.
"Hey, sweetie," Rosie said with a brilliant smile, leaning over to kiss him full on the lips. She almost threw a look Lily's way as if to say, 'see? I like my boyfriend only,' but stopped herself just in time. Why should she need to prove herself, anyway? There was nothing that needed proving.
"How did your presentation go?"
"Oh, it was shit," Eric shrugged carelessly, "just like everything else I do."
Rosie smirked gently, shaking her head.
"Honestly, Eric, not everything you do is... crap," she arched a brow, not one to use such language as lightly as he, even though he was kidding. "Even you have your moments."
"You're right," he nodded, mock-seriously. "And... this would be one of them."
Without warning, he easily scooped her up into his arms. Laughing as he carried her off at a jog, Rosie only just barely caught Lily's skeptical look as she watched the pair.
But during the remainder of that afternoon's classes, Rosalie wasn't so confident and sure of herself. She had to finally push away thoughts of Lily, Otto, and Eric to be able to even partially concentrate on what her professors were saying. In the end, she was only half successful, and waiting right outside Central Park found her more nervous and anxious than she had been in a while. Lily had made her doubt herself. Sisters were good about that sort of thing. There were times she wondered if her little sister indeed knew her better than she did herself.
Luckily, she wasn't given too much more time to ponder the questions tumbling about in her mind. Four fifteen had finally rolled around, and would find her waiting with her bike and one she'd borrowed from a friend. Two helmets were held in her hands, and a small bag was slung over one shoulder. Knowing her hair would have become a nuisance, she'd pulled it back into a bun so no stray strands would brush Otto's coat, worn fondly over a sleeveless shirt and sweat pants. She'd worn the long coat all day, and only Eric had asked her about it. Naturally, she'd lied, saying a friend of theirs, Jon, had lent it to her. Eric had seemed suspicious, but Rosie had outwardly given him no reason to not believe her. It was surprisingly warm and smelt just like Otto, so much that part of her didn't want to give it up just yet.
That was when he appeared, her shawl still slung over his shoulders upon the button-up, white shirt and khaki-colored pants he wore. Not exactly the best bike-riding attire... especially that stainless shirt. Hopefully, he wouldn't fall and stain it... too much. She tried not to smile too much as he approached, his dark eyes looking skeptically towards the bikes.
"I've been dreading having to face this strange... creature all day," were the first dry words out of his mouth.
She laughed lightly, easily falling back into conversation with him, as if they'd never parted. "This 'creature' is perfectly harmless, Otto. Its not going to breathe fire and eat you alive."
He raised his brow up at her, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Actually, I was talking about you, and you described my fears exactly."
Rosie shot him a look and he grinned. "Whatever happened to that charming fellow I met yesterday on the steps?"
"I'm afraid you're having those delusions again," he countered quite seriously. "I was never charming, and you were never harmless."
"Pity," she frowned thoughtfully. "I was just starting to... tolerate him, too."
He blinked, caught off guard at that comment. Hadn't she meant 'like,' not tolerate? Shrugging his shoulders, he arched a brow, manner as casual as possible.
"Well, you know...your 'delusional fellow' could make a habit of showing up now and again."
He was rewarded with a tight smile that still sparkled, in his eyes, nonetheless. "Good. See that he does, for me." She raised a brow pointedly. "Are you done stalling, then? Because these bikes want very badly to be ridden today."
"Yes... and then they want very badly to take us to early, untimely deaths."
She just shook her head, handing him one helmet. "Nonsense. Here. Not that you need it with that hard head of yours."
Meeting her dryly playful look with one of his own, he took the helmet, before noticing her shawl was still wrapped about his shoulders.
"Oh, here," he muttered awkwardly, taking it off and handing it carefully over to her, as if afraid to rip the fabric. "I, ah... enjoyed wearing it today."
Rosie looked surprised. "You wore it... all day?"
"Yes," he nodded solemnly, "and I would like to personally thank you for each and every stare and insults my fellow classmates gave me."
She bit her lower lip guiltily. "Otto. You did not have to wear it all day."
"Yes, well, which is... probably why I didn't," he admitted, smiling slightly but lowering his gaze guiltily.
He smirked when she hit him with her shawl for that one. In truth, he had started to wear it that morning... until one Curtis Conners was the first comrade to notice it very distastefully. Otto explained who had given it to him, and that led to conversation that was more of a debate.
"If this girl is one of your new 'projects,' I'd give up before starting on her, Otto," the blonde man commented skeptically in one of the school labs. "She'll only end up being a waste of both your time and efforts."
"What, because she isn't a science major?" Otto snorted, shaking his head. "Isn't that a bit biased of you, Curtis?"
"She's just going to distract you from your work," Curtis arched a brow, using his test tube holder as a pointer for emphasis, "even more so than you already are. You're already a scatter-brained young scientist. Why complicate your life further?"
"Because she's a complication worth having."
For the moment, that had ended that, though it had not satisfied his skeptical friend who seemed to take his studious life even more seriously than Otto did.
Rosie was taking his jacket off her shoulders, anyway, bringing him back from his thoughts to reality. Arching a brow, he shook his head lightly.
"Keep it for now. If I survive this day, then you can give it back to me. If not, well... keep it as a little souvenir to remember me by." He shrugged. "And it looks better on you, anyway."
She smiled gently, gazing at him thoughtfully. "Thank you..." Rosie placed one hand upon her hip, "but you're stalling again."
"You really want to see me make a fool of myself on this thing, don't you?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued.
"Did you know that when people first rode bikes around here, they only allowed it from midnight to 9 a.m.?" he asked, nodding. "Yes, its true. In 1880, this League of American Wheelman, I think it was called, held annual meetings every May here. They decided that bikes were too dangerous and destroyed many of those contraptions due to horrible, terrible accidents." He raised a finger and pointed it at the bike in emphasis. "They had the right idea, Rosie."
By this time, Rosie had gotten her helmet snugly fit upon her head and had either leg over the sides of her bike, ready to go. Arching a brow at him, she just shrugged her shoulders in defeat. Her words, however, were not exactly what he'd been expecting.
"Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear too calm and sad a face in front of thine," she sighed softly, mock-dramatically putting a hand to her forehead, "for we two look two ways, and cannot shine with the same sunlight on our brow and hair."
Otto frowned, narrowing his eyes in slight bewilderment as he studied her. She only smiled sweetly, before sitting on the seat, grasping the handlebars firmly... and taking off down the sidewalk on her bike. His brow rose in surprise.
"And what the hell was that supposed to mean, Miss Poet?"
"It means stay there in the shadows where its nice and safe, Mr. Scientist!" she called back gleefully over one shoulder.
He scowled. The challenge in her voice had been quite clear. Plus, he wasn't about to let her get away with that last laugh. Still eyeing the bike doubtfully, he quickly pulled the helmet on, grumbling at the tight fit. Forcing the kick stand up, he eased one foot over the other side, grasping the handlebars uneasily.
Easy as riding a bike... why was it people always used that figure of speech to compare the ease of doing something you hadn't done in a while?
"Damn English students probably thought it up," he muttered to himself, before raising his head to look down the sidewalk to the corner she had just disappeared around. He took a deep breath, hesitated, then...
Oh, what the hell?
Once planted firmly onto the bike seat, feet pumping the pedals, he started unsteadily down the concrete, the bike already wobbling dangerously. He decided at once that he did not enjoy this feeling of having no control whatsoever over the contraption he rode. His eyes wide, practically bulging out of his skull, he attempted balance, and succeeded for a while...
...but unfortunately, it was a very short while.
There were these irritating things called obstacles, and they were walking directly into his path. Yelling out, he barely managed to swerve and miss hitting the surprised elderly couple who, of course, could not instinctively jump out of his way with some sudden spurt of youthful energy. As it was when he usually faced distractions in life, he found his attention divided, and only too late managed to focus on his serious predicament. By then, it was only a heartbeat more before his bike hit the grass, a tree, and turned over, taking the captain down with the ship.
Immediately, as he groaned there on the grass, there came the sound of someone rushing up to him and then a familiar voice filled with concern.
"Otto, are you alright?"
He squinted up into the sunlight at Rosie's face. She did genuinely looked worried, making him feel a fraction better.
"More or less," he grunted, really only lying a bit about the initial pain of his fall, and struggling to sit up, pushing the bike off his legs. "Luckily, the helmet and my hard head broke my fall."
"Good," she sounded relieved, but he saw the smile instantly taking over her face.
"Why, so you can laugh at me now with a clear conscience?"
"No," she shook her head, offering her hands to help him up. "So I can teach you how to ride a bike properly."
Frowning dryly, he took her unneeded hands nonetheless and struggled to slightly shaky feet. Arching a brow at her, he realized Curtis had been wrong. Rosie had not become Otto's project, he had become hers. Giving his hands a brief, reassuring squeeze, she quickly let go to put his bike right-side-up again. He sighed slightly, knowing even with the soreness he was feeling in his body, perhaps only a precursor to the pain he'd feel tomorrow, there would be no refusing her and her proposition now.
It would have been quite amusing to see the strange pair riding their bikes, he doing it so carefully. She had a hand out upon his back to steady him, and he constantly reached out his hand to grab hers, fearing a fall. They were doing fine for a while, and when Rosie thought him steady enough to ride on his own, she slowly let go and watched him take off.
"Hey... hey, look at me!" Otto grinned in almost childish delight as he rode solo. "I'm riding a bike!"
She laughed. "Just keep it up, Otto! Don't doubt yourself!"
And he didn't. He was laughing gleefully, but the moment he started getting cocky... he lost control. Luckily, there were no people involved in his fall this time, just a hard rock, a violent bump, and then a soft patch of grass.
"It'll be better next time; you'll see," she reassured him as she helped him up again. Noticing his once white shirt was quite grass-stained now, she shrugged off his coat and handed it to him.
"Here. You need it more than I do, now."
He arched a brow, glancing down at his shirt and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, 'so what?' Looks had never mattered all that much to him. But he took the long jacket and pulled it on, anyway.
"Alright then, genius," Rosie arched a brow. "Got any better ideas how to spend an afternoon in Central Park?"
Otto Octavius just smiled.
The two ended up sitting beneath a shady tree near a clearing of fresh grass in the park. In his hands was her literature book, and he was studying T.S. Eliot. In her hands was his Quantum Physics book and she, of course, was studying Albert Einstein's theory of relativity. By the mixtures of confusion, bewilderment, and frustration that passed over their faces, it was rather clear that both were having a hard time at it. Rosie, however, was the first one to sigh in defeat. She laid back on the grass, stretched out, and set the open book over her face so that her eyes and face were hidden from the sun and everything else. Her hair made a sort of natural, soft halo of golden brown about her head on the grass.
"That's it. I give up. I don't understand it," she shrugged one shoulder, raising a hand to lazily gesture in the air. " E equals mc squared... energy and mass are interchangeable... there is no set time or speed... blah, blah, blah..."
Otto arched a brow over at her, carefully closing his poetry book. Looking down at her, he gazed softly at her in wonder. Smirking quite dryly and humorlessly, he shook his head.
"Unbelievable," he murmured.
Her book-covered face turned slightly to his, a brow quirked in question.
"What?"
"You're not even trying to understand it!" he exclaimed, scowling slightly.
"Well, I'm sorry If I can't be an instant scientific genius like you," she rolled her eyes, voice muffled slightly from the book.
"Rosalie, you are a genius," he sighed in exasperation, absently raking his fingers through his mass of thick, dark hair, "you're just a different kind of genius."
She smiled softly at the compliment, still hidden beneath the book... just as her cover from the world was lifted from her face. Squeezing her eyes shut stubbornly, lips pouting ever so slightly, she refused to look at him. He nudged her lightly.
"Come now, Rosie, I'll explain it again."
"Otto..." she groaned.
"Yes, we'll start at the beginning. Open those eyes, now. Sit up."
"No," she smiled tightly. "You can't make me."
"Oh, yes I can. Here," he laid down on his side so that he was closer to her and facing her. One of his arms went about her head on the ground.
"Crane your neck up some. You can lean your head up and back on my arm."
There was no refusing him. He wouldn't let her. She did finally give in, and soon he was lecturing her, the back of her head propped up against his arm. Rosie held the book opened, it standing up on her chest, and Otto leaned over her occasionally to turn the pages and gesture animatedly with his free hand. He was the teacher now, she the student, and as such, the moment remained completely innocent. Rosie was focusing so much on trying to understand what he was telling her that it left little room for much else...
...more or less.
"Still with me, Rosie?" he paused to ask her at one point.
She shook her head, brow furrowed in concentration above her brown eyes staring hard at the pages in front of her. "Not... exactly."
"No?" he arched a brow down at her. "Where did you get lost?"
"At... the part when you started speaking...?" she looked up at him innocently.
He couldn't even begin to stay mad at her long. Chuckling quietly, he tugged lightly on a bit of her soft hair with the hand that rested on the grass there beside her head. He let his other hand rest back upon his side.
"What's so hard to understand here, Miss Poet?" he raised a brow in slight disbelief. "Your T.S. Eliot is the one here that doesn't make sense. Compared to Einstein, he was probably another one of those free-thinking hippies, like the rest of them, spending all his wasted time smoking... something..."
She shot him a look and elbowed him playfully. He laughingly apologized, leaning slightly closer to her. Rosie only sighed lightly and looked up at him thoughtfully, laying the book down opened upon her chest.
"Otto," she started conversationally, changing the subject, "what do you want to do with the rest of your life?" She shrugged her shoulders some. "When you get out of college, I mean."
He sighed rather wistfully before answering seriously, "Invent some universal charm so women everywhere will fall in love with me."
Rosie rolled her eyes and elbowed him again. He snorted gently.
"Joking, joking," he said quickly, before shrugging his shoulders lightly. "What do I want to do with the rest of my life? Study, I suppose, research, then... invent something no one ever dreamed possible of inventing before." A small smile turned the corners of his lips upwards as his voice became slightly distant. "Something that will change peoples' lives for the best, and something they'll thank Otto Octavius for every day until his heart beats for the very last time."
She half-smiled a bit, looking up at him skeptically. He noticed this and frowned in a bit of offense. Here he'd been pouring out his heart to her and telling her his dreams, being very much the 'poet,' and she was doubting him?
"What?"
"Just trying to decide if you're wanting to create this genius invention merely for yourself and the fame or for the better of mankind."
"Well... perhaps a little of both, actually," he admitted honestly. "This is what I love to do, Rosie. Its my passion, and that shouldn't be wasted entirely on my own selfishness."
"Well..." she raised a brow pointedly, "just make sure you don't turn into some mad, evil scientist while you're at it. It would be a pity to see such a brilliant mind go to waste."
"I'll try my best to stay good and sane, then, if you promise to stay with me and keep me that way," he countered with a grin. She smirked gently, lowering her gaze, even if he was only joking. With Otto, it was hard to tell. He went on, however, so the awkward moment did not play out longer. "And do you want to do when you get out of this prison?"
"Teach literature," she answered almost immediately, a brilliant smile lighting her face. "High school, perhaps, Maybe younger."
"Ah, mold young, impressionable minds into thinking just as strangely as you do," he nodded knowingly. "Very nice, very nice. Well, you've already done a number on me, but perhaps their innocent, naive brains will be easier to sculpt into your perfect little, poetry-spouting minions."
Rosie smirked, shaking her head. "You know, I think you probably should invent that charm thing first. You really could use it."
They shared a smirk in that lazy moment. Smiling gently, he shook his head a bit in soft exasperation. She just never gave up, did she? Gazing up at him fondly, she was suddenly aware that his hand, the one down beside her head, was gently stroking her long hair, almost of its own accord. The idly massaging motion was at once so comfortable and soothing that she felt her body completely relax.
"We're never really going to understand each other, are we?" she asked in a bittersweet voice.
"No," he said quietly, serious now. "We understand each other perfectly. Eliot and Einstein just can't seem to understand us yet." He raised a brow, aware his heart was beating louder in his chest, "but that Elizabeth Barrett Browning...she understands us completely."
Rosie's own pulse had quickened, despite the ease with which the moment played out as he leaned down over her, face closer yet. Her lips parted with a soft intake of breath when he raised his free hand to touch her cheek, his fingertips so gently he seemed afraid to break this fragile creature. She was lost in his adoring eyes, caught in the emotion and the feeling of the dreamlike moment. It didn't seem to matter to her that she was allowing it all to happen. Otto, himself, was usually not this forward. Women had always remained a mystery to the science-driven, researching young man. But this moment... it felt right, and that was more than enough for the both of them.
"Sweet Rosalie," he whispered, his breath pleasantly warm upon her skin... before closing that distance and pressing his lips to hers.
She instantly melted into the gentle tenderness of that kiss. It was anything but an awkward, clumsy first kiss. It was as if their lips had been made to fit against the others and do exactly what they were doing now. As such, she instinctively kissed him back with the same almost careful pressure, as if both were afraid too much force would ruin and end it all too soon. Neither hurried or rushed it. She lifted her hand to cover his upon her cheek, her fingertips dancing lightly to lace with his. It was all so surreal, that part of her wouldn't have been surprised if she'd woken up in her bed from the pleasant dream.
But it was not a dream, and the embrace, sweet in its innocence and naivety, could not last forever. She was the first to break away reluctantly to gaze up at him in wonder. He looked back in knowing awe, one finger lightly stroking her cheek. No words were spoken or needed; they only... smiled at each other.
And he leaned in to kiss her again, but Rosie had realized something. Unfortunately, she'd glanced at her wrist watch, and her eyes had immediately widened.
"I'm late."
He frowned, caught quite off-guard.
"What?"
"I'm late! I-I have to go," she managed hurriedly, releasing his hand and pushing herself with a slight struggle to her feet. Otto clumsily did the same beside her.
"Let me walk you back."
"No, I should probably ride my bike back. It'll be faster," she disagreed, before giving a small smile and a careless shrug. "I'm afraid you'd only slow me down."
He smirked in amusement, looking at her again beneath furrowed brow... in that way that really got to her. It was another gaze that was more than easy to get lost in. She had to blink herself from his spell and back to reality to take a step away from him.
"I'm sorry. If I'm any later, they'll probably take me outside and execute me, so..." she smiled once more, raising one hand in a makeshift little wave. "So I'll just be going then."
And before he could really protest, she was easily mounting her bike and taking off down the sidewalk. After returning to his senses and doing a double-take at his bike there on the ground, he called back to her.
"What about this other bike?"
"Leave it at the bike rack in front of my dorm building!" she shouted back.
"You've got to stop leaving me so quickly like this, you know!" he shot back.
He thought he heard her laughter reach him on a breeze before she disappeared around a corner. Looking down, he noticed she'd left her poetry book. Half-grinning, he shook his head and reached up a hand to lightly scratch the back of his neck.One thing he didn't mind was Rosalie Harris leaving mementos behind for him. It, as well as the kiss, made his situation look quite promising.
"That's quite enough, Miss!"
Rosie glanced down... and her eyes widened. The cup she'd been pouring hot coffee into had overflowed. Setting the coffee jug down quickly, she succeeded in accidently overturning the salt and pepper shakers as she rushed to clean up the mess with a towel right before the steaming liquid met the customer's lap.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized profusely and guiltily as the older man glared up at her impatiently.
But for all her apologies, she'd only been having more and more accidents. Only moments before, she'd actually poured coffee into a student's lap. Luckily, the student had been more understanding than the impatient bald man of the moment. Even with the warnings and questions of concern for her health from her co-workers, she found it nearly impossible to focus on any task at hand. Of course she blamed it all on Otto Octavius, but, of course, was also anything but mad at him.
The bell on the door jingled as it opened again. There was a constant stream of people walking in and out of the small coffee shop, so Rosie took no notice. One of te other waitresses, however, did. She hurried over and tugged at the man's arm. Eric turned his head down to her, brow raised inquisitively beneath long, blonde bangs.
"What did you do to her?" the black-haired girl accused, arms crossed over her chest indignantly.
Eric smirked in light amusement, only adjusting the strap upon his shoulder, attached to his guitar case. It amazed him how most of Rosie's friends were crazy, but he was used to being around artistic types who were usually even worse.
"Skye, what?"
"Rosie!" Skye exclaimed in frustration. "She's had her head in the clouds ever since she showed up..." she frowned pointedly, "late."
Moving his gaze away, he found and studied his girlfriend across the room, who was cowering guiltily beneath the scolding of an older man, Steve. He arched a brow in light surprise, unable to remember ever seeing her as the victim of the manager's wrath. Nodding his thanks to Skye, he headed over to the pair.
"Are you new here? Is this your first day?" Steve was asking her sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest, "because this is totally unacceptable, Rosie."
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, sir," she was apologizing quietly, gaze lowered. "I've just had... a really weird day."
"Oh, so that just makes it all okay, then?" Steve continued fuming.
"Hey, babe! What's it take to get some good music around here?" Eric's voice interrupted, taking that moment to interrupt. He touched her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
She glanced up at her savior and smiled in gentle relief.
"Oh, Eric... the stage is all yours," she gestured to the small 'stage' area where a chair and microphone were set up.
Eric arched a brow in concern. Up close, she did look and feel tense beneath his fingertips. Smiling, he decided to suggest something else instead that might help them all out.
"I've got a better idea. How about you perform for us a little, first?"
Steve looked skeptical. Eric sent him a pointed look.
"It'll help relax her."
The older man sighed, before throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine. God knows she's getting nothing right waiting tables tonight." He arched a brow sharply. "But only one song."
Eric grinned down at Rosie. "C'mon, Rosie. Sing one of my favorites."
By the slightly dry look upon her expression, Rosie didn't look too excited to sing anything, whether it be his favorite or not. But by the time she'd sat down before the microphone and heard the introductory chords as Eric strummed his guitar beside her, she found she was slowly starting to get into the powerful music.
"Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land."
The café was usually filled with artistic people, and since the song was about Vincent Van Gogh, it was a favorite to more than just Steve. Rosie was not a painter, but the song still touched her in a bittersweet way, and it had a lovely melody that easily rang out from her lips throughout the small room. Eric watched her with admiration. Really, the boy was quite see-through when it came to his personality, and it was no surprise to anyone how crazy he was about this singing waitress.
"Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now."
During one of the many times the bell jingled again, Otto Octavius walked inside. It had been hard enough finding out just exactly where Rosie worked. Convincing her paranoid, over-protective roommate that he was not some crazy stalker had almost not been worth it. In the end, he'd gotten it out of her, and now all he could hope was that she hadn't been lying about it. As he searched the crowded little place for that particular waitress, that mellifluous voice reached his ears. There was something strangely familiar about it, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. When he saw who it came from, he at once knew why.
"For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry, night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you."
It was not a perfectly trained voice, but rang out sweetly and clearly. By that, and the contented expression upon her face, he knew she sung from her heart. The woman the voice came from was his Rosalie Harris, so that alone was more than enough for him. She was at once the picture of loveliness and grace, even wearing just her plain uniform of shorts and the white t-shirt. Her serene gaze and calm expression remained constant. Ignoring the presence of Blondie, strumming on his guitar, Otto took a seat at an empty table to listen.
"Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will."
Once the last note of her voice had faded gently into the air, the crowd burst into applause. Otto was, undoubtedly, the most enthusiastic. For all the staring and wide, open-mouthed watching he'd did, she'd never noticed him in the small crowd. It hadn't helped that she often closed her eyes as she sang, letting the music envelop her senses completely. Meanwhile, it was unneeded for him to say it, but Eric did anyway, standing and holding his hands out, gesturing to Rosie.
"Put your hands together for my goddess of the arts, Rosie Harris!" he called out, grinning from ear to ear.
Otto looked sharply to Eric as if noticing him for the first time and frowned, startled by those words. He couldn't help feeling slightly protective of her. No. Not his. My Rosie... He's wrong.
But she was smiling gently, accepting the applause graciously. The song had almost made her cry, as it often did. The emotion of the song wore her out every time, even though it was not a physically exhausting or difficult song to sing. Otto could easily go back to ignoring Eric by focusing on her and trying to catch her eye. Would she smile brilliantly and rush into his arms? He could only hope as much, though even just that smile of acknowledgment would have worked for him. As such, he was completely caught off-guard when Blondie took her into his arms instead and kissed her passionately.
Perhaps most surprising was that she did not break away. She even looked like she was kissing him back. As people returned to their private discussions over their drinks, no one really noticed the dark haired young man as he stood from his table and turned towards the door, his feet seeming to drag heavily upon the floor. No one save Skye, who he handed Rosie's literature book to.
"See that Miss Harris gets that."
And without another word or backwards glance to the couple upon the stage, he went out the door with another cheery jingle of the bell. In his mind, a sneering voice seemed to speak to him, succeeding in bringing him down even more. You knew she was dating him... did you really expect one measly little kiss from you to end that?
"No," Otto murmured softly, sadly, to himself, before heading back to his home.
After returning to work, Rosie was given the book back. Her cheeks still glowing from the excitement of singing, her blood pumping, it took a moment for her mind to register where it had come from. When realization did hit her, she smiled easily, feeling another wave of blushes tinging her features. He'd heard her sing? Immediately, she started searching the people there for his familiar face.
"Is he still here, Skye?" she asked hopefully.
The other waitress shook her head, not sparing another moment as she rushed off to tend to some customers' drink orders. Rosie felt her shoulders slump slightly with that disappointment. At once, she wondered if he'd left because her singing had disappointed him, or if there were other reasons... but what? Their short afternoon together had been... well, heavenly, to use a cliche. Why, then, would he...?
"Service, please!" Eric called from his table, bringing her thoughts back to the present, with a cocky grin upon his joking face.
Eric. Of course. But when he'd taken her into his arms for that kiss, it had felt completely normal, and almost... like a bad habit. Bad habit? Well, she certainly could not honestly describe that kiss shared with Otto as unpleasant even in the least bit. Wondering how in two days her once quiet and simple little life could have become so confused and muddled with questions, she pushed her mane of hair behind her absently, before turning towards his table. She knew she'd have to make a choice more sooner than later, and already it was bringing the beginnings of feelings of dread within her stomach. At the rate things were going, she was starting to figure she'd have a heart attack from all the stress before she was 30 years old. Dryly, she thought it'd be the perfect end to a sad little poet's life.