Something Like Fun

I smiled as he held open the door for me. I thanked him and continued into the shop to look at the menu. “Ok, I’m ready,” Ville turned and smiled to me not even five seconds later, “are you, darling?”

My eyes became saucers as I stood in disbelief. “Noo,” I said in a small voice.

He smiled, “Well, I’ll wait for you.”

“Hell, let’s just get in line, I’ll have picked something by the time I need to order,” I quickly spoke. I glanced over at Ville just in time to see a smirk appear on his face. “What?” I probed.

He let out a small chuckle, “I highly doubt that you’ll choose something that fast.” I frowned. “Truly!” he laughed, “when we were at the grocer’s, you stood in front of the apples for ten minutes before you finally grabbed three, only to put one back five minutes later, and that was when we had moved on to the next part of the store no less.”

I let him laugh a bit more. “You’re not nice,” I stared at him, keeping my face blank. His easy amusement calmed to a chuckle, and then withdrew to his eyes as he tried to figure out my expression. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, I cut him off, erupting in laughter.

His confused, repentant face morphed to complete shock and then hardened. “You-“

“You,” I pointedly stated, “should have seen your face!”

He scowled, “You are the one that is not nice.”

I drew in my smile and tried out my best sad eyes on him, “You picked on me first, Mister.”

He scowled again. “Well, at least I know what I want,” he commented, turning to the counter as the waitress looked at me and smiled.

“May I help you, Miss?” the tired looking blonde inquired without emotion. My face dropped and I hurriedly looked back over to the menu as Ville’s laughter soon filled the air.

Then, with the troublesome situation in the past and my hot drink now in hand, I found a table for us and took a seat in a dark purple, cushy chair. I shook my head as Ville sat down across from me, still chuckling to himself. His eyes met mine. “Ok, so maybe I deserved that,” I lightly stated.

He let out a few loud laughs, rested his arms on the table in front of him in an imposing manner, and sternly spoke, “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t she?” I tried to conceal my laughter and Ville’s face relaxed into gentle amusement as he watched me trying not laugh.

“You’re still mean,” I said, then stuck my tongue out at him.

“Yea, yea, yea,” he smiled and sipped his coffee. “So, how is it you came to be in Helsinki,” Ville asked with an interested look on his face.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “What gave me away?” I replied, leisurely sipping my coffee.

“You don’t look like most Finnish women.” A single eyebrow remained up; his answer didn’t ring true to me. Gathering that I was not about to answer, he gave up and sighed, “Just, now at the counter, you couldn’t find your wallet. You took stuff out of your purse and handed them to me as you were searching. One thing you gave me happened to be a US passport,” he explained.

Holding the warm mug in both hands, I nodded and smiled, “Yes, that would do it alright.”

He sipped his coffee and smiled in return, “You never answered my question.”

Putting my near empty coffee cup back on the table, I straightened out a napkin in front of me. “I’m here for business,” I said nonchalantly.

There was a clear moment of silence. “Continue.”

I met his unwavering glance. “Well,” I pointedly inquired, “what is that you so earnestly want to know?”

His eyes softened as he responded with grin, “Everything.”

I rolled my eyes, and chuckled to myself. ‘Ah, yes,’ I thought, ‘I’ve found myself a romantic one.’ Deciding to try to be a bit more courteous, I spoke in a gentler tone. “I’m an architect. I’ve been commissioned to design a building for a group here in Helsinki. Good?”

His facial expressions fascinated me. Shock at my job, then impressed, then a return to a light, happy look. “Yes,” he smiled and I shook my head. “For now.”

I tilted my head to the side, curious. “And you?”

“Why I am from Helsinki, Rosalie,” Ville exclaimed matter-of-factly.

I frowned, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he said with a weak smile and a slight nod. Scooting his chair back, Ville picked up his mug, and stood. “Are you done?” he asked, motioning to my mug.

“Yes,” I lightly replied, increasingly put off by the turning of events.

Without another word, he took the empty mugs and placed them in a bin as I watched him, a vacant expression ever present on my face. Returning to the table, he stood by its side. Meeting my gaze, his face revealed nothing. Nodding his head in the direction of the door, he finally spoke. “Let’s get out of here, yea?”