I COULDN'T JUST leave. She looked like she could handle herself with that smart mouth of hers, but not in those streets. She was crazy walking the streets alone at this hour. I wasn't going to let her get kidnapped or raped or some shit and hate myself later thinking I was there or that I could've stopped it. And I don't really care if she'll still think she's badass and that I was being the Knight in Shining Armor to offend her female species or something like that.

So, when I see the drunk twat follow her, throwing nasty catcalls at her like she's some meat he can't wait to taste, I headlock the asshole.

"Walk away, buddy," I mutter in his ear as he struggles in my arm.

"Let me go! Get off, man!" He wiggles out of my grasp and I let him, watching him with heavy eyelids as he staggered backwards. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Go buy some respect for yourself while you're at it!" I called after him as he stumbled the opposite way. "Dipshit."

I hadn't realized the short-haired girl had turned around and, sure enough, she'd watched the whole scene. I pulled the sleeves of my hoodie up and couldn't help the smile that crept onto my lips. The roll of her frosty blue eyes shock me, more so the scoff that escapes her lips before she turns around and continues walking. Like nothing even happened.

Uneasy as it is, I almost jog the distance between us before I try to maintain a steady pace beside her.

"Stop following me," she finally and casually says, as if it was part of normal conversation.

"I did you a favor," I point out, watching her frosty clear eyes roll again. I add, "A thank you would be nice."

"How about a piss off?"She deadpans and I grin when she turns her head properly to face me. "God," she shakes her head, the short strands of brown hair that crown her face dancing around as she does, looking away again. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"Your name, if I can help it," I shrug, burying my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, imagining the touch of her short silky hair as it moved when a gust of wind passed by us. It a nice dark brown that colored like light coffee. It made a magical addition to the warm-yet somehow ice cold and sharp-light hazel of her irises.

When she doesn't answer, I smile and say, "I'm Devon."

"And I'm not interested." It doesn't take her more than a beat to answer.

"Nice," I say. "So, Not Interested, why do you work late shifts?"

At this point, I'm loving the reactions she's shooting my way, they become my muse to keep on talking to her. I honestly l have no idea why I'm still at it, but I don't see why not. Girls back home wouldn't intrigue me as much. And it's not like they were all over me; they actually called me cute-but not a hot cute, it was rather a buddy-buddy cute. But the way she rants, how she seems to have so many words unspoken, how she seems to hold herself back from smiling, it has me hooked.

She was a challenge.

And she was a pretty challenge.

"And why are you a creepy guy who drinks black coffee so late at night? How are you not, like, dead yet?" She raises her eyebrows at me, and maybe for the first time tonight, she looks genuinely curious.

"It's a new habit," I decide to say.

"Could be the last habit," she retorts. "Besides, how do you not feel rejected yet? What else do you want me to say?"

My movements freeze for a moment and a surprised laugh escapes me. A pretty, pretty blunt challenge. "I told you, Not Interested," I press on her name. "The more you speak, the more I'm hooked."

She squints her eyes at the dark dimly lit road ahead of us. "So rejection is, like, your kink?"

I chuckled again. "You haven't technically rejected me yet."

She looks at me unfathomably. "You've got to be kidding me."

I laugh, really laugh. Something I've been lacking for a while. Before I can say anything, we stop at a narrow building gate and she freezes for a second, horrified. I shake my head, biting back another boisterous laugh that was threatening to spill.

"Don't worry," I ease her thoughts. "I'm not a total creep. Even now that I know where you live."

She flinches and stares at me, like she was trying to read me, or figure me out, and I give her a small smile.

"Really," she starts. "What do you want?"

"Your name," I press, tilting my head to the side a little and lifting a single shoulder. "Maybe your number?"

"For God's sake," she mumbles under her breath as she fetches the keys for the gate from her pocket and opens the gateway, all the while shaking her head.

"Goodnight, Not Interested."

Her response is the slap of the door in my face. I smile and nod as my subconscious laughs hysterically before I turn around and continue my own walk home, in the complete opposite direction.

See, I think I was sent to this town for many reasons, other than for my mother's health. Maybe I was meant to meet Not Interested, maybe I was meant to cross ways with that coffeeshop where she works.

I reasonably believe in fate, I'm at peace with it. I let things happen and learn to get accustomed to them, get used to the familiarity-or rather, the unfamiliarity.

Either way, I was going to go to that coffeeshop every night, not specifically for the mysterious girl that is obviously not interested in me and thinks I'm a total creep. But for the coffee I need before I continue on my night, or rather, day.

And, luckily for me, I was going to see her again.