When he said ' let's get out of here, we're looking like fools ', I'd expected him to take me to his secret place where he kept his secret drug stash and spill his story.

Only, it didn't exactly go that way. Instead of following him to his cool, secret place, I ended up following him into a cute little cafe opposite the park.

The cafe's name was ' Little Hearts'.

So, basically, I was being forced into talking to a bad- ass chain-smoker in 'Little Hearts' cafe, where they serve you the best muffins in the city!! ( that's what the board outside said)

I swear the badassness of druggees is overrated.

The only good thing about the cafe seemed to be the lack of costumers. Apparently not many people wanted to eat the best muffins in the city.

We sat down opposite each other, on tiny cushioned chairs, with the cute little table in the middle, like businessmen ready to do the most important business transaction of our lives.

He looked so out of place. While the aura around him along with his clothes were dark and bleak, the cafe's open-air theme and the pink hearts lining the edge of the counter were anything but.

Placing my plain notebook - which I had picked off the ground from the park - on the table, I leaned forward and pulled my pen out from the pocket of my over- large and extremely comfortable jacket.

Its name was Jack, yes, the jacket's name, it seemed fitting when I named it. More on it later.

"Let's start with your name, shall we? What's your name?" I was tired of calling him 'him' or 'my subject' all the time in my head, might as well put a name on Mr. Extremely Pissed Off For No Reason At All.

"Or I could call you Mr. Extremely Pissed Off For No Reason At All". I added quickly, realizing how right that name was for him.

He frowned, forcing his dark eyebrows to bunch together and living up to his new name.

"What?"

I sighed.

"What's your name, mister?"

He pursed his lips as if in deep thought.

Seriously? All I asked him was his name, what's there to think about?

But then again, I did hear that drugs tend to reduce one's bran capacity.

"Why do you want my name? I'm pretty sure you'll be capable of writing your article without tagging my name to it". He looked so suspicious, someone would think he was a super-spy from a James Bond movie.

I sighed again.

"My name is Emmaline Wilson, I'm 17 years old, turning 18 soon. This is my last year in school, I'll be graduating soon. I'm planning to do majors in business and take a course in journalism and hopefully become a journalist and write for a living. Now why don't you tell me your name?Just your first name, unless, Ofcourse, you want to be Mr. Extremely Pissed Off For No Reason At All.

Or, I have a few other names which will fit you just fine, starting from- Mr. I'm Suspicious Of Teenagers, Mr. Grumpy, etc. Really, I can come up with a bunch of other imaginative names if you want, I'm a writer, you know".

I took a deep breath after this outburst, then I realized how rude it was.

I really should have kept my big mouth shut, now he was going to murder me.

Mr. Grumpy seemed to be dazed, so I waited while he blinked once.

He blinked again.

Then he blinked rapidly.

"Did you just give me your name, like your full, real name? You do realize don't you, that I'm a stranger? Do you even know what kind of consequences that can have? I could be a stalker!" He was definitely considering taking me to the hospital for crazies.

I shrugged. Telling a stranger my life story wasn't the smartest the thing I'd done but, I had been hoping that we could get down to business once we got the introductions done, after all, I had been waiting to talk to him for more than a month in the same park on the same bench.

I had patience, but not that much of it.

"I'm calling you Mr. Grumpy". I decided. " Now, why don't you tell me about your drug-addiction?"

He tilted his head to one side. " You're weird." He informed me. " And you will call me not Mr. Grumpy, my name's Ethan. And as for my story, why don't you tell me yours first?"

Mr. I'm Suspicious Of Teenagers would've suited him well, not that I could hold it against him since I was planning to make up a shitty breakup story in exchange for a perfectly good article.

Ignoring his first sentence, I wrote down his name on the left-hand, top corner of my notebook and said -" So, Ethan, at what age did you start taking drugs?" I put on my best ' I'm a journalist, so you better tell me everything' voice.

It didn't work as well as it worked on homeless children.

"I don't trust you kid, for all I know this is all a prank you're playing to prove something to your friends. You're going to tell me your story, then I tell you mine." He said, crushing all my dreams of escaping without lying about the existence of my boyfriend.

Oh well, two can play the game, right?

"What about you? What if you lie and disappear once I finish telling you everything?"

From the look of surprise that he gave me, it wasn't hard to guess that the thought hadn't even entered his head.

I shouldn't have given him that idea.

"I'm not going to do that." He said with conviction.

Although I believed him, I said, "Neither will I. But, you and I, both know that we don't trust each other. Let's make a deal which ensures that neither of us get cheated".

I felt a tiny bit of guilt when I realized how much I was cheating him.

I promised myself that I'd make my story as close to the truth of my love life as possible.

"I guess you have a point". Ethan agreed. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked, leaning towards me and fixing me with his storm-cloud eyes, saying, If you think my plan is so bad, why don't you come up with a better one? Do you think you're that smart?

I smirked at the challenge in his gaze, because, unfortunately for him, I did have a plan which had been half-formed for the past few days, but now I had it all perfectly set. And I had a feeling he wouldn't be able to refuse this. "How about this," I said, "you and I meet up every day. Same time. You tell me a bit of your story, and I tell you a bit of mine. That way, neither of us will be cheated, and you won't have to waste too much of your time with me. We share bits of each other's stories. You come here everyday, so spending five minutes with me and away from your smoke will not be much of a loss to you." The smirk on my face only grew wider when I finished. This way, I would also have time to plan out my article, and make up my fake story. I didn't mention that to him, though.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "How do you know I come here everyday? How long have you been watching me for?"

I shrugged. "I told you I've been wanting to write this for a long time. What do you say to my plan?" I said impatiently. 

He sighed, then shook his head. "Next time you want to talk to someone, don't stalk them and creep them out."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. Whatever. Can we just get on with this?"

He shook his head again, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to refuse, and started readying myself for a full-on verbal attack on him in case I had to do another round of convincing, then relaxed when he said, "Fine. But I have one condition."

"What's that?" I really hoped he wasn't going to make me sign a document that would forbid me from stalking people. I kind of enjoyed it, especially when it creeped then out.

"You buy me coffee," he said, completely catching me off guard.

"Okay?" I'd spent months stalking him. What was a little coffee worth, compared to that?

"Let's get down to business, then," he said.

And I couldn't agree more with him.

---------------------------------------------------

"So, at what age did you say you started doing drugs again?".

This was the third time I'd asked my subject, Ethan this question, and each time I did, he just rolled his grey eyes and told me that I'd have to start telling him my story first.

And that's exactly what he did now.

I didn't think he'd be capable of doing something normal like rolling his eyes and he looked pretty comical doing it.

" I didn't say anything, and I won't until you do". Was his monotonous answer.

" We're doing this all under your conditions, I even bought you coffee. The least you can do is go first".

He took a sip of my coffee and looked away, bored.

I could have argued more about who goes first but I decided to be the mature person and take the initiative to do something productive. Also, it was getting dark and my parents weren't home so I'd have to get home before my brother started freaking out.

" Alright, I'll go first, where do you want me to start?" I tried my best to look sad and completely heartbroken about reminiscing  my utterly non existent relationship.

Judging by the pity on Ethan's face and the irritation melting away from his grey eyes, he believed the facade.

If God exists, you're definitely going to hell Em.

Oh well, if I was going to go to hell anyway, I might as well do what I want to on Earth.

" Start at the beginning, where did you guys meet?" He said this softly, like he knew exactly how a bad breakup feels.

The problem was, I didn't.

But then again, even though I didn't know how breakups felt, I knew exactly what it feels like to have a crush on someone forever and then have them run away from you the moment they find out about it.

I'd never told anyone about this particular crush, who happened to be the only guy I had a crush on and  how the way he avoided me changed me, maybe even in a good way ( not according to my mom), but I liked the new me who realized that not men, but most people are dogs and when you find a select few who are not, you better pocket them.

Since Aiden (that's the crush) and I never got together, I decided to make up a story using his name but lying about our relationship.

I was, after all, a good liar.

Ethan's pity was slowly turning to fear, he was probably reading my silence as despair and freaking out that I might start weeping anytime now. I decided to put an end to his misery.

Taking a deep breath with the air of someone who was about to launch into the most painful story of her life, I said:

"His name was Aiden McCarthy, he was the quarterback of our school. He was 2 years my senior and his sister was in my class. His sister and I were pretty good friends".

Everything I'd just said was true, except for the sister part. I was a good friend of Aiden's sister only till 8th grade, then she became bitchier ( is that a word?) than she usually was, so I ditched her. Unfortunately, I'd already told her about my crush on her brother by then.

Ethan didn't say anything, silently urging me to continue.

I lowered my head in fake sadness and sniffled ( I had a cold). " I never thought I'd have a chance with him, you know? He was too perfect and I wasn't. I was the  nerdiest girl in the entire school and probably the most unnoticeable one. He never talked to me or anything, although I went over to their place to study with his sister a lot of times".

Again, most of this was true, except for the unnoticeable part. It's kind of hard not to be noticed when you're in the school's boxing team. In fact, I did go to Sara (Aiden's sister) and Aiden's place a lot. Not to study, but because-

A: She was the only person in the entire school who lived close enough for me to go over to her place whenever I felt like hanging out with someone.

B: She didn't like studying and my brain only remembered stuff I said aloud. It was a win-win situation for us, I'd explain things to her and that way, both of us could remember them for any exam.

C: Also, Aiden sometimes came home without a shirt,( which was a scene to behold)

Creepy, I know.

I gave it another second or two for him to feel the weight of my apparent grief. Then I said-

" It was like a dream come true, like a fairy-tale or like a book when he suddenly asked me out, I didn't understand why, so I refused to go out with him at once, but I gave in eventually". I sniffled again. " It was hard not to, especially since he continuously showered me with compliments on my appearance. Not many people did that".

Lies, all lies. Not the complements part though, I wasn't the most pleasant person to look at, what with my slightly crooked nose and reluctance to do my hair like normal people.

Oh, and I also thought naming my jacket Jack was funny in a punny way.

Most people didn't.

Slowly, as if gathering my scattered emotions, I sat up straighter and met Ethan's gaze.

" Your turn". I announced. I tried to make it sound like I was unwilling to go on with my story because it would hurt too much.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't complain.

I readied my pen and flattened my notebook against the table.

" 5 years ago".

I blinked in confusion. "What?"

" I started doing drugs 5 years ago, when I was in high school, at the age of 16".

Then he gulped down a the last of my coffee and stood.

It took my brain some time to register the resignation on his face as he pushed his chair back into its place.

" That's it? You're going to leave me with that one single tiny fact? I told you an entire story! The least you can do is answer at least a few more of my question!". Agitated would be a small word to use for the state of my brain right now.

Over the years, I'd learnt to control my easily flammable temper, but, I felt ready to show him all my boxing skills right now.

He just shrugged. " You're the one who kept on asking me that, remember? In fact, you seemed hell bent on knowing exactly when I started smoking , so I figured I'd answer that question. We already agreed to meet everyday, I'll answer any other question tomorrow".

Question, as in singular, not plural.

" But... but.....that's not fair, we.....we made a deal". I stuttered. I'd never stuttered in my whole life, not even when I had to give a speech to a bunch of uninterested teenagers about the effect of global warming for my credit.

" Next time, phrase your question better, Emmaline, you're an aspiring writer. I'm not very good at answering a whole lot of questions in one go". He advised.

He was driving a bloody hard bargain. Also he'd called me Emmaline. No one calls me Emmaline. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

Then tell him, you idiot.

" It's just Em, no one calls me Emmaline".

" I'm not your friend, you know? I'm going to stick to Emmaline."

" Even strangers call me Emmaline".

" Then I'll be stranger than a stranger and stick to Emmaline, I don't like familiarizing people around me. I'll see you after 4 tomorrow". He walked out without saying anything else, his back straight as his huge shirt hung loosely from his shoulders.

While part of me was miffed that he hadn't even thanked me for the coffee, the smarter part of me was too busy thinking about his last sentence.

' I don't like familiarizing people around me".

That sentence told me a lot more about him than he had wanted to allow. I don't he even think realized it.

Chewing down on my lip, I wrote down everything thing that he'd told me ( not that there was much), packed my bag and walked out of Little Hearts.

Author's note- The 2nd part is out, thanks for reading, whoever you are! 

Cyan

Update: This part got deleted, so I had to write it again. So please let me know what you think! :)