Masquerade Mansion

As he entered the room, the lighting from the sky illuminated his black, charcoal-colored hair. Hanging wild at the ends, but as soft as pure silk itself. His emerald-green eyes took a depth of a hundred yards into a dark hole. They were vivid and took on a more darker color as his mood darkened along with it. The sly, wolf-like grin said he'd been through a whole lot than he looked like he could take. A prince of darkness in commoner clothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing. A hunter, recently raised from being prey. Dangerous. All these vibrated from him as he continued to stare absent mindedly at the menu in his hands.

“Who’s that?” Rowan asked Greg, as she stared at their new customer from the counter.
Greg looked at her, looking slightly surprised. “How should I know?” he replied, the expression of a wounded and confused boy taking over his features.

She felt silly after that. Of course, Greg wouldn’t know who he was. He was a new customer, it would be unreal if he did happen to know him. That would also be too convenient. Rowan glanced at the boy sitting in his table, staring at the menu, but not seeming to be reading it. She didn’t know what had made her ask. She was curious, that was all.

Rowan looked at him again, and she saw that his menu sat on the table, untouched, and the boy was staring up the ceiling, chin rested on the back of his hands. Like a bored citizen, she thought, grinning.

Rowan began to walk towards the boy’s direction, feeling every step make a tick-tock sound inside of her chest. Like the arms of a grandfather clock beginning to move at time’s accord. She suddenly felt the eerie feeling that someone, or something, was watching her. Who would be watching her? She turned back, but Greg was attending to his own business. She looked around, but the other waitress was attending another customer.

Then she looked at him.

His deep, green eyes bore a hole in her chest the moment they met gaze. Rowan’s breath was caught in her throat. She couldn’t get anything to come out of her mouth, much less words. There were only gasps of surprise, which caught, seconds later, Greg’s attention from the counter.

Rowan stared down at the stranger before her, thinking that this moment didn’t feel right. It felt…odd. As if it was something planned ages before. It couldn’t be…

I’m going crazy over a guy? she thought, frowning.

“…ello? Hello? Hello.”

The customer’s voice broke through all of her thoughts in one confusing moment of irritation. She didn’t even want to look at his eyes. What fathomless mysteries could be hiding within them… Like the reason she couldn’t speak a word to him. The boy was staring straight at her, one eyebrow arched up in amusement.

Of course he would be, Rowan thought. Here I am, this idiotic looking waitress, standing here with nothing to say!

“Are you sick? Or something…?” the boy said, his words traveling through her ears like a microphone would.
“Oh-I’m sorry! I was-this-uh…” Rowan bit her bottom lip, shutting her eyes from the embarrassment.
“It’s fine,” he chuckled. “As long as you’re not going to faint, I’m good.” He raised both of his eyebrows and half smiled, hence the obviousness of his joke.
“Yes, I mean…yes.” She shook the embarrassment out of her head, remembering what her job was and how bad she was doing at it. “How may I help you?”
“I’d like a cafe macchiato,” he sighed, going back to his bored-citizen appearance.
“Coming right up,” Rowan said quickly, bowing and stepping back. Why did I even bow? she thought, feeling the sudden quietness of the Café Shop sending goose bumps on her arms. It was an unconscious gesture, but still. How does a girl bow before a stranger unconsciously? She wondered.

“Rowan.”

Rowan looked up to see Greg staring at her curiously. She suddenly felt self conscious about the way his eyes searched her for something she had no clue about. Did he see?

“You okay?” Greg asked.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she lied, summoning up the best smile she thought would convince him.
He continued to search her eyes for a moment. Then he nodded and asked, “What does Mr. Creepy want?”

Rowan winced. Mr. Creepy? Funny. She didn’t quite get the same feeling from him. Sure, he made her feel strange. Not in a sense that she could be falling for him. Or even captivated by his deep, green eyes. It was something else. That is…

“Cafe Macchiato,” she told him.