The wind picked up, making leaves dance in circles around people's feet. I awkwardly pushed my skirt down and hurried to catch up. For some reason, Scar had brought some of his and my clothes along on the trip. And he seemed to have picked out the most uncomfortable, most-skin showing off ones he could get. I searched through all of my clothes and had yet to find a sweatshirt. Or pants, for that matter. It was the middle of winter in Chicago, and I was walking down the street in nothing but a blue and tan skirt with a thin white t-shirt. Granted, it was warmer in the heart of a big city. I doubted snow would even last for five minutes, but the wind was slowly numbing me.

"Stop walking so fast!" I growled, jogging to catch up. Scar barely gave me a second glance, walking at his same fast pace. I huffed angrily and finally managed to catch up beside him.

Chicago had that notorious personality of being one of the most dangerous cities in the country. It was actually said to be one of the most miserable, high crime-rated ones to ever step foot on. But as we walked, I couldn't help but admire our surroundings.

People of all shapes and sizes, colors and clothes, walked around at a leisurely place. Of course, it didn't compare to New York but Chicago still had that aura of warmth. The sky was an ominous gray and the air held a biting chill. Shops and carts stood on the sidewalks, tucked under a never-ending forest green cloth hood. The sidewalk was cracked and broken from so many years of use. We were walking down a street that was opposite of a huge sleek metal building that towered over like a protective mother. I could only imagine what it might look like at night.

Being from a small town, it was all new to me. I wasn't used to the hustle and bustle, city lights, and the beautiful skyline at night. Scar, on the other hand, walked like he owned it. That was one of the greatest things I'd admired about him, his ability to not be afraid or hold back on anything. God forbid he ever found out because his ego was inflated enough.

"Keep up, kitten."

Scar was surprisingly farther in the distance than I had thought. He had stopped and was waiting for me against the wall, cigar in mouth and hands in his pocket. I mentally cursed my slowness and once again ran to catch up. My slowness would be the death of me. I had already been in danger of being lost.

"Maybe if you walked normally!" I mumbled, reaching him. He blew some smoke puffs into the air, not looking at me.

"I do walk normally. Maybe if you just kept up, I wouldn't have to stop. Seriously, do you have some sort of walking condition? Never in my life have I seen someone that slow." Scar shot back. Before I could come up with a smart reply, he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me along.

"Alright, stop. Let me go, I'll swear I'll keep up this time." I pleaded, stumbling behind him. It was like being pulled by a truck, and he didn't even bother stopping to let me gather my composure. Even though his firm grip assured I wouldn't fall flat on my face, I still tripped with every step.

"You already had your chance." Scar said, but still removed his fingers. Just as I was about to thank him, he wrapped an arm around my waist and locked me to his side. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I could hear my heart kick up a notch.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, trying to squirm away. He clutched my waist, practically shoving me in front of him in the process. Scar squeezed, making me squeal and gather unwanted attention from passerbys.

"You're too fucking slow, kitten. Now shut up and walk."

"Scar...."

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Alright! Why are you always so stingy? For Pete's sake."

I suddenly found myself pushed against the wall. A hiss of pain elicited from my mouth from the pain of crashing into the hard bricks. Scar forced himself against me and held a finger up to his lips. I glanced around nervously, unsure of what to say. I could feel his chest moving with my own, his breaths on my face, and his hands on either side of me. The fluttery cloth border roof thing above the restaurant we were up against moved with the wind.

"I apologize, dammit!" I whispered furiously. "I take back what I said before, you're a sweet, nice, kind, caring ma-"

"Shut the fuck up, Genevieve!" he growled. The sudden use of my real name made me stop and take in what his reaction was about. His dark eyes were shadowed under the roof, but I could still sense his hostility to whatever danger he thought was around. This was serious, I assumed.

His head dipped towards my neck. At first I thought he was trying to kiss me (as if) but it took me a moment to realize he was actually shielding his face from view. Scar grabbed my chin and forced my head down next to his, so that to passerbys it looked like two people were just hugging.

Scar's eyes followed one man in particular as he passed. I ducked under his arm and took a glance. The man was heavily built but that was all I could take because his back was turned towards us. He was dressed in all black, leather jackets and a black beret on his shaved head. Scar waited until the man had turned the corner before moving away.

I took a deep breath, relieved for the space between us. Scar looked around carefully again, dark eyes alert and a thin frown on his lips.

"Who was that?" I asked quietly, inching closer. Scar sighed, running his hands through his hair. I had a sudden urge to do the same. It just looked so soft and fluffy and I bet it smelled like expensive cologne. But it would be beyond weird, and Scar already had a bad impression of me as it is.

"He's a member of the Bratva. I recognized him as one of the men who sold me the drugs. In case you hadn't realized, Sevskaya Bratva have already taken over this city. There's no telling who's in the brotherhood and who's not. Stay close, and don't you fucking dare wander off."

"Okay." We started walking again. "And can you not use such vulgar language around me, Scar? It won't kill you to talk nicely, you know. Please and thank you are the magic words. Haven't you ever watched Barney as a child?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, I apologize." Scar scoffed. "Between my mother's drinking and my father's abuse, I really hadn't had much time to connect with my nice side."

I stopped walking, which resulted in a strong glare from Scar. "Your father abused you?" I muttered.

"That's a story for another time. Now let's go." he stressed the last syllable, jabbing his head in an impatient sign for me to start walking again. I did, silently seething. Who did he think he was, drugging me and taking me across the country without my permission? Didn't I get a say in all this? Apparently not. I bet he didn't even have the decency to tell Marie or my father, who must have been having premature cows by now. The sudden flash of anger caused me to open my mouth and spew out whatever horrid nonsense that came to mind.

"You know how you said we were going to have fun? Well, let's stop now because I can't handle all of this fun." I sarcastically said. "Sooo much fun, I'm dying. Someone call the cops, this much fun is illegal! A funeral couldn't compare to how much fun I'm having. Are you having fun, Scar? Are you? Are you? Because I freaking am!"

"Kitten, I know you're upset but-"

"Genevieve!" You could say I was having a bit of a temper tantrum. "My name is Genevieve, asshole. I'm not a freaking kitten."

"You know, kitten, I really do try to be nice to you." came his retort. Scar grabbed my elbow and dragged me aside from the busy sidewalk. He opened a glass door to what looked like a breakfast diner of Denny's and bowed down innocently. "Like now."

"Good job." I patted his nose nicely, stepping inside. A blast of warmth hit me from above, quickly reducing the chills from my bare skin. The door jingled behind as Scar closed it.

The restaurant was a comfortable-looking place, with blue walls and a chalkboard with the day's specials. The atmosphere was heavy with heat and the faint linger of vanilla. A few customers occupied the cream-colored tables and booths. Quiet chatter danced in the heavy air, a sweet moment of relief from the rush of outside.

I didn't know how long Scar planned to keep me captive, if that was even the right word for whatever this was. Actually, I had no idea what Scar had in mind. To pay back the Bratva, but then what? Would he let me go home or were we headed to France next? There was no reason to trust Scar, yet I wondered why I did. It would surely bite me in the butt one day.

Scar led us to the farthest booth in the back of the diner, hidden from sight of anyone passing by. I took a seat across from him on the plushy blue seat. He crossed his hands on the white table and stared at me.

"What are we doing here, Scar?" I questioned, tracing the outer edge of the table with my pointer finger. I got a splinter and quickly snatched it away.

"What do you mean? I'm hungry, you're hungry. Does food not seem like a reasonable explanation enough? Damn, why can't you just accept the fact that-"

"No." I interrupted. "Like, why are we here here? Don't you have to give the money to...them? We're in Chicago, why can't you just pay them and take me home? The quicker, the better. You shouldn't stall situations like this, you know-"

I could say no more. A waiter appeared in front of the booth, menu in hand and an overly happy smile on his middle-aged face. He had light blue eyes that made me feel as those he knew I was keeping secrets I shouldn't have. I looked away, heat creeping up my neck. Averting my eyes to the menu he just handed us, I waited for Scar to say something.

"We'd like 2 Belgian waffles, hash browns, and some coffee." Scar announced. I looked up to see his eyes trained on me. "Genevieve, would you like anything else?"

"Jasmine tea instead of the coffee."

The waiter nodded and said something I didn't hear, and walked away. Scar eyed me strangely.

"Tea?"

"You shut up." I snapped. "I like tea. It's very good for you. Did you know it helps lower cholesterol? Instead, it raises levels of HDL - high density lipoprotein - the "good" cholesterol. This effect is attributed to the polyphenol content of green tea, an antioxidant. And it's better than your caffeine infused drinks. People who drink jasmine tea are shown to have a lower percentage of getting-"

"What in the everloving fuck is wrong with you?" Scar cut me off, bringing out a cigarette. I held back my tongue and the urge to rip the poisonous thing from his fingers, blushing once again. He sparked it and stuck it in his lips despite the larger than life No Smoking sign hung above the counters.

"Nothing." I sniffed. "I just like jasmine tea."

"I'll never understand you, kitten."

"Mysteries make life interesting." I pointed out. I held my breath as he blew some of the smoke from his mouth in cute little poofy things. Scar quickly put it out as the waiter started heading our way. I was relieved to see it was a new waiter this time. Eagle Eyes creeped me out.

The waitress set down the steamy food in front of us and left with a polite smile. I picked up the fork, suddenly feeling ravenous. Those Belgian waffles looked oh so delicious and calorie-filled, but I didn't care. It was nice to indulge once in a while. I ripped a piece and stuck it in my mouth, suddenly noticing Scar watching me in amusement.

"What?"

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. When Scar smiled, it was as if everything was okay again. A certain happy light danced in his eyes when he did, popping out his handsome features even more. As we ate silently, I took the time to actually look at Scar. Maybe it was the fluorescent lights above or maybe it was because he ate like a little kid, but he was strangely beautiful to me in that moment.

A million freckles dotted his flawless skin. He had that "bad boy" personality about him, but boyish features as well. Scar's eyes were darker than the shade of black, but held a certain playfulness when he showed it in those rare moments. Prominent jawline, black lip ring, and tousled hair that practically defied gravity. He looked like an Abercrombie model, and someone way out of my league. I was pretty sure every teenage girl gawked at us when we walked past.

And I didn't know why he stuck with me. I would gladly be alone than with Scar, because it didn't hurt as much to have expectations that would never in a million years would happen. Scar had the pick of any girl or women he wanted, but for some reason I could not fathom, he chose me.

A lump rose in my throat but I forced it down with a sip of tea. No need to get emotional, Genevieve. Life's never fair, and everyone knew that. Scar would never think of me as anything but a friend. Period.

"Genevieve, is something wrong?"

His voice brought me back to reality. I kept my gaze locked onto the white tabletop, counting the scratches on it. My appetite suddenly ran away when he asked that. It just reminded me of what I could never have. I plucked the waffles, ripping apart little pieces, and nodded tightly. I didn't trust myself to make up a believable lie right then and there so he wouldn't suspect anything.

"Hey." His leg bumped my leg under the table. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I mumbled, keeping my gaze downward. Maybe it was from the stress or from all the episodes of Doctor Who I has missed, but something wet and annoying gathered in the corners of my eyes, already threatening to fall.

"No, something's wrong." Scar insisted. The sentence was barely out of his mouth when I instantly began shaking my head no.

"Nothing's wrong, Scar." my words came out harsher than I had expected. "Leave me alone."

It was silent for a second before the sound of shoes squeaking on tile broke the heavy atmosphere. Scar stood up and walked to my side of the table, pushing me over so he could take a seat next to me on the small bench. I immediately scooched away in horror. The diminishing space got even small when he leaned towards me.

"Tell me what's wrong." he insisted, eyes dark with the sudden concern. It made me feel pathetic and I hated it.

"Scar, stop."

"Not until- kitten, look at me.''

I pushed myself harder against the hard wall, trying to make myself as small as possible. Scar waited for an answer, those dark eyes searching for an answer I would never say. Even if I wanted to tell him the truth, what would I say?

Scar, I really really like you but I know you don't return the feelings. I know we are worlds apart and I'm the farthest thing from being called pretty, but can you at least give me a chance to show you how much I like you even though people will judge you for it?

God, I was pathetic.

"Genevieve-"

"Leave me alone!" I mumbled. My voice was louder than I had expected. The entire diner fell silent, all eyes trained on us. Humiliation crashed into me with a hard smack. Two word came to mind: drama queen. That's what Scar must have been thinking, judging from the shocked look on his face.

Acting on instinct, I pushed past him without another word. Tears were falling down my face, only embarrassing me further on. People still stared, Scar included. The horrid feel of being the center of attention crashed into me. I had really messed things up now. The tenacious silence was only broken by the jingle of the door as I all but ran out, leaving Scar like I should have done a long time ago.

But preferably in a less dramatic way.