Just want to know if this is a good start to a chapter. It's a vampire novel...
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I watched as he walked in, his black hair a curtain across his face. Even with that curtain, I could see he was different. He had an amazing body, but he was pale and wore dark clothing. He didn't talk to anyone and he usually wore an outer shell, a mask he put on to cover a secret while around them all. This place, this literary shrine that stood on the corner of Maple and Harvey, was the only place I ever saw him take off that mask. He never talked, but through his reading and writing, I saw the real him.
Every night he'd read a book I recognized, draw in his sketchbook, or he'd write in that black leather journal he always left with the shop owner. My natural curiosity compelled me to read them after he left and his writings were amazing. All of his poems were about untouchable and forbidden love.
He never took them home, just his books and drawings. I wondered why this was and my natural curiosity went against etiquette. I followed him. I wanted to know what he was truly hiding from the world. He walked slowly down Maple Street, with me following at a safe distance. I turn into random alleys and open doorways to give off the illusion that I was a different person each time I returned to follow him. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and it was now late fall, but that thought just flickered in the back of my mind as he turned down a narrow alley leading to Garrison Road, a rural street that was awkward so close to town. He followed the road until the asphalt turned to dirt.
He turned onto a washed-out dirt driveway, the first on the entire road, to a house that was large and amazing, but seemed to have no one living there. The windows were shuttered and a single board on each window protected it from whichever vandal that suffered from enough boredom to take on this lonely house.
He didn't go to the front door, but went around the side of the house to the doors leading into the basement. He bent down and began to open them, but stopped, closing the door as he straightened up. I had been hiding behind a thick oak and wondered if he had seen me. I pressed my back against the trunk and listened for any movement. Silence. Was he just standing there? I poked my head around the side of the tree and saw he was gone! I hadn't heard a single movement and surely, with all the dried leaves lying around the yard, I would've heard him leave.
I stepped out from my hiding spot and looked around suspiciously. There was no one around. How could this be? One minute he was there, and the next, gone! I looked around one final time. At least I knew where he lived now. Wait, now I sounded like a stalker. I shook my head and turned to leave when I nearly bumped into him. From up close, I could see his face. It was like staring into the face of a male supermodel. His eyes were a piercing dark blue and they were full of, not anger, but a mix of curiosity and amazement. His eyes were the only thing I could read. His face was expressionless.
I couldn’t find anything to say. He had caught my arms to stop me from running into him and I just stood there, staring at him in shock. I furiously tried to move my mouth, and, finally, words came out.
“Excuse me.” I managed to mumble.
Excuse me? That’s all I could say? I had just followed this guy to his house and all I could say was ‘excuse me’? I could’ve at least said sorry or something that might excuse my compulsive stalking behavior.
“What are you doing here?” He asked calmly, a small sparkle of laughter entering his eyes.
I could feel it coming, I was going to tell the truth and embarrass the hell out of myself. My mouth opened and my lips formed the words, “Compulsive nosiness.”
He laughed. I was preparing to run and he actually laughed. I could feel my cheeks burning, even in the cool fall air. He let go of me and I slight bit of my nervousness disappeared, but standing this close to him made my stomach fill up with more butterflies than I could have imagined possible, but they were fluttering around in there as fast as they could.
“Compulsive nosiness?” He asked, a smile still on his face. I nodded, a small laugh escaping me as I realized that I had made it sound more like a disease than natural curiosity.
I nodded quickly, evading his eyes as much as possible.
“How about I walk you back to town? It’s getting late.” He said.
“And colder.” I added, trying to use conversation to settle my butterflies down. He just nodded slowly. “I never caught your name.” I said, knowing full well that he had never mentioned it.
“Jason.” He said warmly.
“Well,” I was feeling braver now, and stuck out my hand, “I’m Taya.”
He seemed to already know that, but he took my hand anyway. “Nice to meet you.”
