Chapter Twelve

Van goth took the elevator from his apartment building's garage up to his floor. He stepped to the back, after holding the door for another tenant he vaguely remember as his downstairs neighbor, and leaned back against the glass paneling. Van had stopped trying to reach Hazel by her seemingly off dinosaur of a cellphone; after all, she was a grown lady. If she wanted to return it was up to her. And if she did not then it would only be advantageous for him.

When the doors slid open with a bing, Van stepped out and directed his gaze to the second door on the floor. There the enchanting Hazel-monster was sitting with her legs folded underneath her in front of his apartment door. At first, he thought she was sleeping, but before he could get within four feet from her, she raised her head and gazed into his wondering blue eyes with her sparkling hazel ones. And Van was again struck by how beautiful she really was. Van felt as if they were having a moment.

"You got any food?" she asked, her blank expression not changing.

The slow track that had started playing in his head came to an abrupt halt and Van sighed. "Why didn't you call, instead of waiting outside?"

Her eyes narrowed, pinning Van with a 'duh' look before she mockingly responded, 'Don't worry, dad. I'll call you the next time."

Sighing again, Van held out his hand to help her up. Shouting him a curious look, she attempted to stand on her own. After three fails – which she blamed on her now numb legs – Hazel took his offered hand. A smirked graced Van's lips as he pulled her up, purposefully pulling her closer than necessary and side stepping as if her flying into his chest had not been intentional. He opened the door, allowing her in and strolled in leisurely after her.

"So about that food..."

"Unfortunately for you, I was planning on cooking something but you don't seem to fancy waiting right now." He carefully took off his shoes and stowed them in the closet by the door, "And as the clear adult in this situation, I'm afraid I'll have to say no snacks before dinner."

"I was being sarcastic." Hazel rebutted, following his lead and discarding of her shoes, "You do know what sarcasm is, right?"

Van turned to her, walking backwards with his hands stuffed in his pockets, "Sarcasm? Is that a hip new thing?"

Hazel stopped in her tracks, dumbfounded by the man her father wanted her to marry. Never, in all her life, had she ever met someone who annoyed her to wit's end. And yet she wanted to continue their verbal sparring. But, more importantly, she needed to keep her wits about her. Her situation was not about asserting dominance but about finding a middle ground where she would not allow herself to get attached and ultimately be disappointed by another person.

She knew that at some point she would have to make it up with him to find a way to live together peacefully, but her annoyance with her father, and Mr. Steel, was getting the best of her. Deciding against throttling him, Hazel rolled her eyes and walked pass Van. She gave him a wide berth, not bothering to glance back as she muttered, "Call me when the food is ready."

Half an hour later, Hazel flopped over onto her back, wincing when her cast dug into her skin because of the tough floor. She had been staring at a half-finished painting for the entire time she had been in her room. Her urge to paint was eminent, but her need for food was stronger. Finally, she pushed up with her right hand and stumbled from the room in search of Van.

He was standing at the iPod dock, fiddling with the music. The piece sounded like a ballad rock song that she could vaguely identify. Van goth turned around when she stopped some steps behind him. He had a dripping popsicle hanging out of his mouth.

Failing to hide the smile threatening to take over her face, Hazel smirked, "I thought you said no snack before dinner. And I don't smell anything cooking."

Van stared for quite a while before cracking a smile. He removed the popsicle and answered, "Well since I broke the rule, do you want a popsicle too?"

"No." Hazel denied calmly, "I was promised food. I want a proper dinner."

Van smirked, the expression Hazel was finding that she hated the most. His lips going up to one side in that crooked smile was distracting. "Sadly, there isn't enough food here to cook anything. There's an Italian restaurant nearby. I placed an order for us both... assuming that you won't bite my head off for doing so."

"I've been waiting for thirty minutes... why isn't the food here already?"

Van walked pass her, discarded of the popsicle stick and washed his hands at the sink, "My dad called. I was fielding questions from him so I just ordered. It will be here soon."

Rolling her eyes, Hazel walked over to the couches and sat. She looked around the room for something to distract her from watching Van fiddle in the kitchen. Finally she settled on just going back to watching him.

"Sure you don't want that popsicle?" Van asked again.

He walked around the kitchen island and leaned back on it, folding his arms across his chest as he met her gaze.

"No, I can't have any." She replied, still not looking away.

A moment passed as they stared at each other. Van goth was sure that she felt the same way he did. He was curious about her. He wanted to ask her so many things, and question why someone so stubborn would agree to an arranged marriage. But he kept his silence. He had learned that one wrong word would set her off, and he quite liked the quiet moment they were having, with a remix of The Queens' Bohemian Rhapsody playing softly in the background.

"You do know you have popsicle stains all over your shirt, right?" Hazel muttered as she looked away, once again killing the moment.

Finding himself rolling his eyes skyward, Van muttered in a mockingly high voice "You do know you have popsicle stains all over your shirt, right?". He pushed off the island and headed to his room to take a quick shower and change into sweats.

Smirking to herself, Hazel turned and gazed out the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting beautiful shadows across the city and into the apartment. The take-out arrived a few minutes later, and against her better judgment, she knocked on Van's door.

He opened it, giving Hazel an eyeful of his dripping wet form. Hazel felt her entire face redden from her neck up. A towel was draped around his shoulders to catch the water dripping from his hair, but his bare chest was out on full display. Hazel tempted a glance downwards and exhaled to see that he was wearing sweat pants.

Leaning on the door frame, Van cockily said, "Tell me when you're done."

Clearing her throat, and mentally face palming herself, Hazel met his steady gaze, "I was trying to extend common courtesy by informing you that the take-out arrived and you're welcome to get some."

His lips curved into a grin as he replied, "I would be more than happy to get some but I know that you aren't too keen on sharing."

Hazel's eyes widened a fraction even as her face darkened to crimson red, "You are also welcome to choke on a bone."

Cursing under her breath, Hazel spun around and marched away from the door. She was pretty sure he was watching her walk away as his laughter floated after her. A small part of her – the distorted part of her female anatomy that still existed – felt a vague sort of excitement, but she dismissed the emotion immediately.

Van stalked out after Hazel, still sporting a smile and no shirt. He passed her to go around the island and grabbed plates for them from the top cupboards and watched Hazel as she calmly dished out food for them. After pigging out on the Italian, they dutifully washed the plates and threw out the garbage.

Hazel then sat by the floor to ceiling windows with her sketch pad. The earlier setting sun had inspired her to create a new piece. She worked on a sketch of her old apartment flat and then the streets below with all the groups of people she had never bothered to meet.

The sound of breathing brought her back to reality. Her hand had stopped over the pad and Van's hot breathe sent shivers down her neck and into her toes curled into the rug.

"I didn't get a chance to properly look at your work but... wow. This is really good." He muttered, leaning back to rest in the crouch next to her. His dark eyes left the sketch and met hers, smiling.

Leaning back so that her head was resting on the window, Hazel begrudgingly said a soft "Thanks" She offered a soft smile that lit up her face; the first real smile Van had seen from her. She then stood and stalked off to her room. 

*****FORCED*****