Beauty and the Beast

Ryan's POV

The ride back to Isabelle’s house was a silent and uncomfortable one. We were sitting in our respective corners, not looking at each other. Not speaking to each other. Barely breathing in my case. Our unspoken truce had eliminated all arguing, which seemed to be all her and I had ever done. Which indeed made me really, really self-conscious. Arguing is what I do best, so take that out, I have nothing. Absolutely freaking nothing.
In fact, the only thing we had really talked about was our discussion and agreement on not studying tonight. One, because my head felt like a Drum Corp was using it as a practice field. And she was exhausted from running.
For her life.
Jesus. I still can't... get over it. How much trouble she got into, and she had only been at my home for what, a couple of hours?
She had managed to completely charm my staff, send me into a rage (which, is still sending little shivers of guilt down my spine), run for her life from a pack of wolves, avoided getting splattered by a semi, and survive an argument with me.
All this, and adding to the fact that I was seriously, seriously starting to fall for this girl, my mind was having systematic brain farts.
It didn't help that she was so beautiful. And that she was blushing. And that she had this little streak of dirt on her chin. And that she was kind.
And strong.
And I'm starting to think I'm in desperate need of a brick wall. To you know, bang my head up against.
With the silence echoing through out the cab, and us not looking at each other, I was able to, one rest my aching head, and two, contemplate.
I can't afford to be kicked out of yet another school. So, I'm going to have to work over time to be able to keep her. To keep everyone happy.
Which, I admitted, is going to take a little work. Bored with my thoughts already, I looked up.
Unable to help myself, I peeked through my hair at her. She was tapping her fingers out on her legs to some internal song, and singing to herself under her breath.
I was stunned. The pure innocence and brilliance of the joy on her face, from such a simple act as singing to herself. I felt my hands itch for my drawing book and pencil. Her face held such light, such serenity. Such passion.
She looked up, as if she could feel my eyes on her.
I blushed, hating myself for it, when our eyes met.
Which completely added to my embarrassment, further awkward-izing this drive back. So, I pretty much just sat there like a dumb lump on a log, Not talking.
In fact, the only time I did talk was when she was giving Carria directions to her house, and she asked me a question, and I gave a half-hearted grunt in reply.
And that was about it.
I wanted to tell her I was sorry. Sorry that she almost died. Sorry I exploded at her. But the words just didn’t want to come out. They were there, on the tip of my tongue, but sitting there looking at her, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say it. I don’t know how to tell her.
I’m sorry. See? I can think it. But saying it is a whole other hotdog.
Anyways, we had a bit of small talk as we neared her house, the pathetic sort of small talk.
I couldn’t even say goodbye when she climbed out of the limo. I did manage an awkward wave when she reached her door, and had turned around to beam a smile at me. And that just goes to show you how freaking pathetic I was becoming.
She smiles at me, and I turn into a stammering fool.
But I was smiling as I settled back into my seat.
“So, Mr. Tier, can I assume that I should put this route to memory?”
I looked at Carria, grinning at me in the rearview mirror. I waited for my standard snarl to surface, to burst out unaccounted for as the always do.
When none came, I almost asked Carria to take me to the hospital. Because I think I knocked something loose when I hit my head. Brain damage is normal for people who have had concussions. Or so I heard.
“Carria, I can assume that would be a correct assumption.” I said, not knowing what else to say. There was a brief flicker of surprise on his face, the same surprise I was surely feeling, before he quickly masked it with a smile.
“Mr. Tier, I think I’m going to like having that young woman around.” He told me, putting the divider up. The black window rose slowly, and he gave me a wink before it completely closed, blocking everything out.
And then I was alone.
The drive back home was also a quiet one, but just as awkward. I was having new emotions, new feelings I’ve never had before. And it was confusing the hell out of me.
So, instead of having the girl here herself to make me feel like a dope, I had these feelings and emotions attacking me. Which is just as bad.
I mean, if she was here, at least I’d get to look at her and feel uncomfortable. When she isn’t, it’s just me and these things. Not as fun, I assure you.
I put the window down, feeling an insane urge for fresh air. The wind blew noisily past my ears, distracting me temporarily from everything.
The air was getting colder, and winter was surely coming.
I pulled my face back in, mildly alarmed when I couldn’t feel it.
Knocking on the window, I waited impatiently, hoping my face hadn't frozen off, as Carria slowly lowered the dividing window.
"Sir?"
"Do I still have a face?"
"Yes sir." He didn't even blink at my somewhat bizarre question. I nodded, believing him.
Now reassured that I did indeed still have my face, I settled myself back down. Not that it felt like it.
I rubbed my face, trying to get some feeling back in it.
And once again, got lost in my overwhelming, chaotic whirlwind of thoughts.
“Master Tier!”
“Jesus!” I yelped, falling out of my seat. I landed, gasped out a breath, and laid there, winded.
It took me a second to open my eyes, as I was putting all of my concentration and energy into breathing.
And then opening my eyes, I saw David staring down at me.
I glared, still fighting for breath. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Well, sir. You had been sitting in there for a couple of minutes. I was just making sure your injury hadn’t exacerbated.”
“And that means?” I asked him, climbing out of my ungainly sprawl between the seats. Jesus, every single bone in my body protested the awkward position I had to bend myself to get out. Remind me never to get stuck like that again.
“Gotten worse, Sir.” He replied, helping me out. I noticed Lennie and Mrs. Angela standing in the doorway, huge grins gracing their faces.
“Oh. Yeah, well it didn’t.” I started walking up the steps, rubbing my posterior that had gotten crushed in my surprised leap. “What are you smiling at?”
“You.” Mrs. Angela pulled me into a hug, and left me standing there, speechless.
I have never gotten a hug from any of my servants before, hence my speechlessness.
“Master, Isabelle, she is coming back, isn’t she?” Lennie asked me, as him and David followed me down the hall.
“Yeah. I think so.” I was proud that my voice was cool and aloof, when inside I was singing and dancing, and praying that she was coming back.
“You think so?” They sounded hopeful. I glanced back at them, suspicious now.
“Why are you so interested in her?” When they just blinked at me, the epitome of innocence, I knew something was going on. “Alright, spit it out, you two.”
“Isn’t it obvious, Master.” Mrs. Angela said, coming out of the kitchen. “We’re hoping you two… oh, how do you young people say it these days? Hit it off?”
“Hit…it off?” I looked at her as if she had sprouted tentacles.
Is she insane? People like her and I, we don't hit it off. No matter how interested I am. She just doesn't.... I don't deserve her.
“Oui. Her. You. Hit it off. Tomber dans l’amour.” Lennie put in, ever the romantic. Falling in love. Jesus, forget falling. I think I’m already there.
Oh, God. Not even going to touch that thought. Not with a ten-foot pole.
“Does your head hurt?” Mrs. Angela grabbed my head, turning it around so she could examine my cut.
“Stop. I’m fine. Get off me, Mrs. Angela!” I squirmed out of her grasp, and was shocked to see real concern in her eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”
“You went pale, just then. And your eyes got a tad glassy. Are you sure your head is---“
“Yes, I’m fine.” I reassured her, patting her on the arm.
“No, I think you’ve acquired some brain damage of some sorts.” David fretted.
“Why?” I asked them.
“Because, you’re not yelling.” Lennie said, shrugging. “Ce n’est pas normal, pour tu.”
“No, “ Mrs. Angela declared loudly, “I don’t think it’s brain damage, I think it’s something that has dark hair, lovely eyes, and a brain to boot.”
“Like?” Lennie and David were a bit slow on the uptake, but I knew exactly who she was talking about.
“Don’t be dense.” She waved at them. “He knows exactly of whom I’m talking about. Let’s just hope he has it in him not to push her away.”
Amen to that.
“Oh! You are talking about the madamoiselle, non?” Lennie said, excitedly.
“No doubt, you twit.” David exclaimed.
“Fermes!” Lennie pushed him, “ You pompous overgrown…pocket watch!”
“Pocket watch! Indeed!” David pushed him back.
“Boys, boys.” I raised my hands up, signaling them to be quiet. “Peace, not war. OK?”
They continued to glare at each other, but stopped arguing. I laughed, never really noticing how funny these two were with each other.
My stomach gave a loud grumble, just as I went to open my mouth.
“You hear that, he’s hungry!” Mrs. Angela grabbed my arm and yanked me into the kitchen. “Now, sit down, Master, and I’ll get Chef Cuisin to cook something right up.”
“But just some…” My protest died when she bustled out of the door, leaving me alone.
“You impertinent pig!”
“Pretentious tub of lard!”
I laughed again, David and Lennie clearly taking advantage of my absence to start arguing again.
“Hey, Master!” I turned to see Chip, Mrs. Angela’s freckled son staring up at me.
“Yes?” I was surprised when he hopped up into the chair next to me.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Um, waiting for some food.” It was weird, sitting here, talking to a servant’s son, a boy who I’ve seriously never talked to before. He just blinked up at me, smiling.
“That girl you had here earlier. She was really pretty.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she was.”
“She was!” He was obviously pleased that we agreed on something.
“Yep.”
“Hey—“
“Chip! You better not be harassing Master Ryan!” His mother scolded when she came back into the kitchen holding a huge tray of food. As she sat the tray down, she leveled a glare at Chip.
“No, mum I wasn’t!” He cried.
“Young man---“
“He…was actually going to keep me company while I eat.” I said, ignoring their surprised faces.
“I…was?” He asked. “Oh, yeah! I was!”
“Well, then.” Mrs. Angela said, smiling. “I’ll just leave you two alone then.”
Chip waited till she walked out of the room, before he hit me with a whole other round of questions. I didn’t mind though, which was surprising. I actually enjoyed it.
“You know what I heard?”
“I do not.” I said, forking another bite into my mouth.
“I heard some old people talking about how nicer you are now, and it’s cause of that girl. And how funky it is that just after one day you’re this so much better. And I agree. Yesterday you were always yelling and being mean. Today you’re nice. I like today better.”
“Me, too.”
“And you know what else I heard. I don’t really know what it means…But, anyways, I heard that since she came, you weren’t such an asshole.” I spit out my drink, spraying it all over the table
He clapped in glee, and gave me an impish grin. I just sat there gaping at him, my drink dripping off my chin.
“What does asshole mean?” He asked me.
“MRS. ANGELA! I’M DONE!!” I hollered, still just staring at him.
“Is it a funny word or a bad word?” Chip asked, and laughter started to bubble in my throat as the discomfort fled. I didn’t laugh, didn’t dare to. But watching him sit there, his feet kicking back and forth a smirk on his face I could feel my ribs cracking under the stress.
I didn’t laugh, but I couldn’t keep the huge grin off my face.
“So, it’s a funny word, huh?” He was positively pleased with himself, and started to giggle. “Asshole…I like it. It’s fun to say.” He started laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in.
Before you knew it, me and Chip were laughing our…assholes off.
“What…is going on in here?” Mrs. Angela said, running into the room.
I couldn’t talk, I was laughing so hard. Tears were running down both our faces, and Mrs. Angela let out a small laugh as she yanked her son up.
Brushing him off, she left me on the floor. “Now, just what was so funny?”
“Mum, what does asshole mean?” His question ended in a yelp when his mother pinched his ear.
“Where did you hear that word?” She demanded. Chip just shook his head at her. And she had just turned around, to unleash her fury on to me, I guess. But I had already booked it out of there.
I laughed as she yelled out at me to watch my back.
I was still laughing when I reached my room. Slamming the door behind me, I leapt on my bed. And in seconds was clutching my head as a new wave of agony assaulted me. God. Aspirin. Now.
I fumbled my way to the bathroom, and managed to dry swallow two aspirin. Choking them down, and having the distinct feeling that I had just swallowed a car or something (Have you ever noticed how freaking big pills are getting these days?) I crawled into bed, and immediately fell asleep.