Zenon's Game Chapter 253

Zenon was outside with a cup of coffee in his hand. He was leaning against the railings of the neighbor's picket fence, wearing a dark winter jacket, while he waited.

His eyebrows raised when he saw me walk out of Cynthia's house. "No rush, Candy. I'm here all day."

The sarcasm dripped off his tongue and I went over to taste it. I kissed his lips and tasted coffee on his tongue. As our kiss deepened, he held the cup further away from us so it wouldn't tip over.

"Is that for me?" I asked.

"For once," he smirked, "No."

A lady walked out of the house and, to my surprise, greeted us, "Is that your girlfriend dear?"

"Yes," Zenon answered, wrapping his arm around a very shocked me, "thank you for the coffee."

My envy soared. I have never been offered free coffee before.... and he... even though... gah! It's not fair.

The lady answered extremely enthusiastically, "I'm oh so glad it kept you warm! We don't want a cute thing like you to freeze."

We don't?

He can freeze.

Zenon handed her back the mug and she waved at us, taking her time to filter through her letterbox, before heading back inside. Zenon turned his attention to me and slid his hands into the pockets of my jacket, tugging me closer to him.

"You made a friend?" I guessed, glancing at the kind neighbor.

His lips curled into a smirk, "She felt so bad that I was left waiting in the cold..."

"A cute thing like you?" I mocked him.

His lips kissed my cold cheek and lowered to my lips, "Who could be so cold hearted?"

Our date began with an hour at the police station.

I guess this is Zenon's idea of romantic.

We both gave statements and they pulled up my old file from when I first came to report the blackmailer's letters.

I had little hope of finding the blackmailer. The police had sent the blood on the record for DNA testing, but it would take a few days for the results. They warned us that it would be low chance of a match.

"This feels like a very personal attack," the police officer said, "Often times, the perpetrator of a crime of passion is someone from the victim's life with no criminal background. First time offender, we call them. Be careful and keep an eye out to those around you. You need to call us, if you get suspicious."

I squeezed Zenon's hand and he looked at me questioningly.

"He called me a victim," I whispered.

After our date at the police station, we got in Zenon's car and there wasn't much to say between us. We were both lost in our own worlds, wondering how our worlds had collided and resulted in such a bang.

Raccoon, car, laptops. That's the how.

"It's my fault," Zenon said quietly as he stared at the road ahead.

"It's not your-"

"What did the letters say?" Zenon asked me as the car drove at an increasing speed, "They said to stay away from me. Someone is out to get you because of me."

"It's not your fault," I repeated.

He drove onto the high street and we parked in one of the few parking spots left. People were hurrying about their day, shopping, lunching and running errands.

"What are we doing here?" I asked him.

I didn't come to the high street often. There wasn't much reason to, since I don't have many friends to meet and I don't have money to spend.

"I wanted to correct what went wrong the other night," he answered, slipping his car keys into his pocket.

What does that even mean?

We turned towards a small store with a creaky front door. Zenon opened it for me, and I stepped inside.

It was an old vinyl store, with rows of records on display.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"You don't have much in your room, Candy, except for your vinyl collection. I know you broke one the other night," Zenon said.

"You wanted to fix what was broken," I understood.

The store had a few customers inside, perusing through the old vinyls and the candy store it was connected to.

I turned to him and said, "I'm sorry Zenon, but I don't want to do this."

His blue eyes flickered in surprise. "Why not?"

"I know you're trying to help, but my vinyl collection is special to me," I gulped, realizing that my choice of words hadn't been right.

I looked down at the ground. This was the first time I was telling anyone. It was hard to say.

"I'm not into old record players," I said slowly, "but my dad was. It's his collection and the only thing I have of him after he left."

Zenon didn't say anything, but his eyes softened and his hands reached for mine. I still hesitated to look him in the eye. He has such a powerful gaze that sweeps me off my feet on a normal day...

And nothing about this moment felt normal.

Thinking of my dad during a time when my mom has left me and someone has broken into my house... this was all starting to get too much.

"It's ok," Zenon whispered, seeing my eyes water.

I didn't want to break down in a vinyl store. I quickly wiped the tear away with the sleeve of my jacket.

"I know you tried to do something nice, Zenon," I said, "But some things can't be fixed. My dad left me and, for some stupid reason, I'm still here trying to preserve his memory."

Another tear escaped. I tried to wipe that one too, but they were stinging my eyes.

"Hey," Zenon hushed me, his hands rising up to my elbows as he pulled me close, "There's nothing stupid about that, Candace. You hear me?"