Runaways

Grunts and groans slowly drew him out of his apartment, mentally gearing up to once again yell at the neighbors four doors down. Now, Paul understood being young and adventurous. He did quite a few crazy things in his youth. But those two needed to learn not to fuck in the hallway. There were children in this building, dammit! Thankfully, instead of being two twenty somethings going at it against their front door, he was greeted by the sight of a new neighbor. He thought he'd heard someone moving boxes this morning. But, again, he simply chalked it up to the couple.

The apartment across the hall and two doors down from his had been vacant for about three months now as the owner of the building was picky about who she rented to. Unfortunately in some cases she wasn't picky enough. That damn couple being the perfect example.

Paul took a moment to observe his new neighbor. She had dark brown, almost black hair piled onto her head in a messy bun, seemingly held in place with one long silver clip. She was rather pale, like she hadn’t been out in the sun much and seemed quite short. Or at least she looked that way while trying, and failing, to push a rather large box through her door. She was dressed in a dark grey pant suit and was barefoot. An odd choice for moving, in his opinion.

Lydia huffed and leaned over the box to take a breather. She didn’t understand how this box was so heavy. And it was her last one too. She'd spent her whole day moving everything in. Thankfully this place had an elevator because there was no way she would of been able to lug all those boxes up to the sixth floor.

Taking a deep breath, she planted her feet on the cold floor and began pushing with all her might. It moved. Some. Deciding to take a different approach she squatted down, hoping to gain a bit more leverage, and pushed again. After a few more tries the box finally slid through the rest of her door. As did Lydia. Her last shove had enough momentum that it sent her sprawling forward onto the floor. She was lucky she didn't crack her chin against the hardwood.

She quickly scrambled to sit up on her knees and threw her arms up in victory. "Yes!" A throat clearing behind her immediately put a stop to her little celebration. She squeaked and slowly turned around, humiliation already flooding through her veins and her face.

The man that stood before her was a bit on the short side, though definitely taller than her. Which wasn’t exactly hard considering her five foot two frame. He had black hair cropped short in a bowl cut and blue or grey eyes, it was hard to tell with the lighting. He also had a few wrinkles and greying stubble along his chin and neck that showed his age. Probably early fifties if Lydia had to venture a guess. And as much as she loathe to admit it with the considerable age difference, he was rather cute.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. But I heard a noise and wanted to make sure everything was alright,” he spoke with an awkward chuckle and a thick accent. He had a nice voice though. He must of noticed she was American since he immediately spoke in English instead of German.

“It’s alright,” Lydia quickly assured while standing up. Distantly she wondering how much of a field day her best friend would have if she told her the first person she met in this building was on her knees. And a man no less. Oh yeah, Jet would be all over it. “I’m sorry about all the noise. My last box was a bit heavier than I thought.”

He nodded and flashed a smile. “I’m Paul.”

Oh, she thought, he has a nice smile. “I’m Lydia.”

He nodded again and cleared his throat, looking rather awkward. “I’ll leave you to your unpacking then. I just wanted to check and make sure everything was alright.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking even more awkward than before. “I hope you like the building.”

She fought a smile as she watched him search for words. It was surprisingly adorable. “Thank you for checking. And I definitely think I’ll like the building.”

Paul gave her one last, rather charming, smile and walked back to his own apartment. He glanced back at her before walking in and was surprised to see her watching him with a soft smile. He flashed one in return before hurriedly entering his home. It wasn’t until after the door was shut did he bury his face in his hands with a groan and mutter, “why me?”.

He hadn’t meant to act that way around her. Truthfully, he didn’t even know what possessed him to go say hi. He’d only planned on getting a better look at her and then going back to his own apartment. No words were to be exchanged and she wasn’t going to even know he was there. And yet Paul felt like he made a fool of himself by talking to her.

She was rather cute though, he decided a few minutes after calming himself down. With her big brown doe eyes and soft features. She was shorter than him too, so that was a plus. She also had a nice smile. And she didn't seem creeped out by whatever the hell that conversation was. That was an even bigger plus to him. She was young though. Probably younger than he was willing to date. That thought alone made him wince and begin mentally scolding himself. She couldn’t have been older than thirty, if she wasn’t still in her twenties, and here he was thinking about how attractive she was.

“I’m such a creep,” Paul groaned in despair.

Meanwhile, Lydia was having similar problems in her apartment. After watching him leave she shut the door and slumped against it. “He was actually kind of cute,” She whispered to herself, voice full of surprise. She then groaned and shook her head. “No, no. Bad Lydia. No more men. Especially one that’s probably old enough to be your father.” Still, a persistent little voice insisted that there was nothing wrong with actually finding someone attractive for once.

With a sigh of annoyance, mostly at herself, she decided to start unpacking boxes. It wasn’t like they were going to unpack themselves and her new apartment was full of them. Too bad she couldn’t ask Paul to help her unpack. That thought made her flinch and start silently cursing herself. “No more men.”

In an effort to distract herself from such thoughts she started with the boxes labeled ‘Kitchen’. They would probably take the longest to organize considering it’s contents. These boxes were a combination of things she shipped over from her old home in the U.S., things her Grandmother was kind enough to send and some stuff she had been accumulating over the past couple of weeks with Jet.

Jet Masterson sauntered into Lydia’s life on a summer day in Paris during her sixteenth year. The two met at an ice cream shop and have been inseparable ever since. Even with Lydia’s mother’s extreme disapproval and living on different parts of the planet. Thankfully her Grandmother liked the idea of Lydia finally having friends that weren’t escentully chosen for her and encouraged the girls to be together as often as possible. No matter what her own daughter thought.

Lydia Stillwell grew up in a heavily structured home that gave both of her parents, especially her mother, complete control. She did everything according to their command. And that included only being friends with people they chose and approved of, Jet later became the only exception to this rule. Lydia only attended the best private schools, was a constant at her parents country clubs and social circles, and had no after school activities besides studying and the functions her parents regularly attended. And later, after her mother deemed her age appropriate, she began dating boys that were picked out for her. This would later include a marriage.

Her only solace was summers with her Grandparents and Jet in Paris. And eventually her painting. While both of her parents initially shamed her artistic talents, a high ranking member of their social circle changed that. Her granddaughter took the same art class as Lydia and complained about her being the best in the class. This brought it to the grandmother’s attention enough to talk to Lydia and her parents about it because art could be a rewarding, or rather money making, career. Her parents eventually relented in order to gain favor and encouraged her to paint. While this would have discouraged or upset some people, Lydia was just happy to finally have an outlet she enjoyed.

Eventually this outlet became a way of life and the only thing that kept her sane. Some of her more dark and abstract work came out of that time in her life. But she was proud of those paintings nonetheless. They showed that she survived. And one of those pieces of survival was currently on display in Jet’s art gallery. She was the only person Lydia trusted to display such a piece.

Many of her other paintings from before and after that time in her life were either on display in galleries around the world or in storage with her Grandparents. It was a strange but thrilling notion, people paying her to showcase her work. She always figured it would be the other way around.

Four hours later, Lydia had successfully unpacked and organized the kitchen, living room, and part of her bedroom. But now it was time for a break and a snack. Unfortunately there was no food in the apartment yet, so this meant venturing out into the city. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

After slipping on some shoes and grabbing a purse, she exited her apartment only to stop dead in her tracks. Across the hall and two doors down, Paul was doing the same thing. And he was carrying a guitar case.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Hello.”

She felt a blush rising. “Hello again.”

Paul adjusted his hold on the heavy looking case and walked towards her. “If you’re going out, you might need a jacket.”

“Oh,” she murmured, just now realizing he was wearing a light jacket. She must of been distracted by the guitar case. “Is it getting cold already?”

“A little.”

Nodding, she quickly unlocked the door and reached inside to grab a jacket she’d discarded over a box earlier. She had gotten ahead of herself at one point and started unboxing clothes before more important things. Like bed frames and dressers. While slipping it on she retreated back into the hallway and was surprised to see Paul still standing there.

He gave her a not so quick once over and nodded. He then motioned for her to go first. So, while desperately trying to mask her shock, Lydia did. They stroad down the hall together, Paul just a step behind her. When they reached the elevator he was quick to push the button for her. And when the doors opened moments later, he held them open and again motioned for her to go first. While these were simple little things, they were still a bit jarring to Lydia due to not being around a gentleman in so long.

Her ex-husband definitely did not count.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Lydia decided to pipe up, “Do you play?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Paul chuckled and nodded, realizing she was referencing to the guitar. “Yes. For most of my life.” They both suddenly had the uncomfortable thought that he’d probably been playing longer than she’d been alive.

Pushing such thoughts from her mind, she continued, “You must be very dedicated then.”

He flashed her a grin. “You could say that.” He didn’t particularly feel like announcing that he was in a famous band to a stranger. Even if she was his very attractive neighbor. Though there was a chance she’d figure it out eventually.

Before anything else could be said between them, the elevator suddenly came to a stop with a ding and the doors opened to the main lobby. Neither noticed that they both hesitated to leave the confined space.

After finally exiting, Paul turned back towards her. “I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Lydia nodded in thanks and flashed a smile. “Thank you. And I hope you enjoy your playing.” While she spoke, he was quick to hold the door open for her. It had her blushing again.

He laughed a “thank you” and left the building after her. They went in different directions, both thinking back on the conversation already. Paul was pleased that it went much better than the first one and that he could make her smile so easily. While Lydia felt surprise and awe thrumming through her veins. Never before had a man got her to relax and smile so easily. It was both delightful and frightening. A strange combination indeed.