<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">A soft chuckle emitted from her as he seemed to take pride in the formality she teased him with. He did look as though he were someone different. Without the dark pallet of his casual style, he looked more like one of the white collar gentlemen of Mandeville than a homeless rapscallion from Nowhere, Texas. Ava was never one for the stuffy, buttoned-up men who flaunted their wealth and status like peacock feathers. And truth be told, she never imagined that she could be attracted to someone like Wes. On paper, he was every father’s worst nightmare. He was an unemployed, free-spirit with no roots or aspirations. But Ava knew he was much more than that, and his circumstances weren’t exactly conducive to a conventional lifestyle. He was considerate, thoughtful, open-minded, funny, adventurous, talented, handsome, affectionate, charming, witty . . . She could spend hours gushing over his many attractive qualities, the things she adored about him. The tender touch at the side of her cheek brought a bloom of color, and paired with the flattering words he spoke she was glowing like a neon light. “Thank you,” she said, able to feel the relief relax her and ease her worries over the finer details of her hair and makeup. <br/>
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With her arms wrapped around him, she inclined her chin as he leaned down. Her heart raced as his face neared hers, butterflies returning to her stomach as their lips met. The same rush flooded her, more potent than it had been in the dark woods in the heat of danger, in the scuzzy bar atop of the pool table, or in the dimly lit parking lot. The time they had spent apart only amplified the feelings of elation and desire, making it harder to part. She wanted nothing more than to continue ignoring the world around them, forget about the stares and the snickers, and fall deeper into the blissful moment. Ava knew it was only a matter of time before the bright and flowery sensation turned to something far more persuasive, something harder to deny after days of imagining passionate moments beneath the sheets-- just about anywhere that allowed them the privacy. Fortunately, before the blaze of desperation began to burn, their lips parted. She smiled, his words music to her ears. “I missed you, too, Wes.” A hand brushed against his cheek as she stared into his eyes. “And, it was worth the hassle.” She assured him as he offered his hand. <br/>
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“We shall, Mr. Marquez.” They began their leisurely stroll through the French Quarter hand in hand, the setting sun falling behind the buildings. It was a beautiful night, still warm from the heat of daylight with pleasant breezes to keep cool. Lights made the city glitter, and the soulful jazz music began to fill the streets. Small acts began to post up on their respective corners, beginning their first performances of the evening. Ava pried her eyes from the lively streets, her curious gaze staring up at the Hunter as he spoke. She was interested in what he’d been wondering, and she anticipated that it was something sweet or intriguing. Instead he earned himself the first eye roll of the night as he pulled her in, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. Despite the almost exasperated sigh that escaped her, and the little laughter she tried to hide, she wrapped her arm around him. “I wouldn’t know. I was too busy kicking their asses,” she boasted. “And, I would have kicked your ass too if you hadn’t come in and helped me out.” <br/>
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“It’s kind of funny when you think about it, though . . .” She said, her eyes staring off for a moment as she thought. “It really could have been the Pope. I guess we’ll never know.” Ava bit her lower lip, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she bit back a laugh. “Really, though. I thought you were the most annoying person walking the earth when we first met. I suppose we just got off on the wrong foot. I know I wasn’t the most cooperative or open person that night.” She said, thinking back to the encounter. They were both distrustful of one another, both stubborn and defensive mules, content to keep each other at arm’s length. While Ava was unwilling to admit fault for ruining his plans for revenge, she never actually apologized. In the moment, she wasn’t sorry. But, knowing what he had gone through, having seen it first hand and heard how it had affected him, she was remorseful. “I’m . . . Sorry about that night. I know that I couldn’t have known, but I played a part in ruining things for you. I never did express any regret or empathy.” She explained, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That was cruel of me.” Ava wanted to help him see things through, and that desire alone made her feel as though she could make things right. She stared up at him, offering a small, apologetic smile. </span>