Chapter 3: The Encounter

I couldn't let him get away with this. Not when it was my family's property that he was destroying. So, without a second thought, I strode up to him, my head held high in defiance.

"Excuse me?" I called out, my voice echoing across the yard. The guy stopped in his tracks, his head snapping in my direction. For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. But I refused to back down. I had caught him red-handed, and he was going to pay for what he had done.

I stood there, straightening my shoulders as if trying to hold in the fear that was creeping up my spine. He was trouble, that much was clear. His face was etched with lines of mischief and defiance, and yet there was something familiar about him, something that made me want to trust him, despite every instinct telling me to run.

"Am I interrupting you?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a convincing show of bravado.

His eyebrows drew together, and he locked eyes with me, staring me down as if daring me to challenge him. I took a moment to study him, to take in the details of his face, to try and make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within me. His eyes were a pale shade of blue, almost green in the harsh sunlight that beat down on us. His beard was a rough, unkempt thing, a testament to his devil-may-care attitude. And his hair, oh his hair. It was a mess of dirty blonde strands that somehow managed to look perfectly styled, a chaos of beauty that left me feeling dizzy.

But it was his nose that caught my attention, a perfect, straight bridge that seemed almost too good to

be true. It was the kind of nose that belonged on a model, on someone who had never faced hardship or struggle in their life. And yet, here he was, standing in front of me with the air of someone who had seen it all.

As he spoke, his voice was cool and collected, too calm for someone who had just been caught vandalizing private property. It was like he didn't care, like nothing could touch him. And that only made me more furious.

"Not really, not anymore. Anything I could do for you?" he deadpanned, his tone mocking.

I felt a surge of anger rise up in me, a righteous fury that made me want to lash out. How could he be so blasé about this? Didn't he understand the severity of what he had done? Didn't he care about the consequences?

I searched my memory, trying to place his face in the context of my past experiences. And then it hit me, like a bolt of lightning. He was the guy from the store, the one I had bumped into earlier. The one I had dismissed as unimportant, inconsequential.

"It was you!" I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You're the one who did this!"

He looked at me, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to remember where he had seen me before. And then, all at once, it clicked into place. His face lit up with recognition, and he grinned at me, like we were old friends.

"Shouldn't you be apologizing?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shook the can of spray paint in his hand, making it rattle like a tin can with a stone inside.

"I did apologize!" I shot back, my breath coming in short, angry bursts. "But now I'm starting to think I shouldn't have bothered. You don't seem to care at all."

He only laughed, a humorless chuckle that grated on my nerves. It was like he was amused by my anger, like he was enjoying the way I squirmed under his gaze.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, my voice rising in pitch.

But he didn't answer, just stood there with that infuriating grin on his face, like he was daring me to do something. And as I stared at him, really looked at him, I realized something that made my blood run cold.

He was older than me, a lot older. Probably in his mid-twenties, at least. And yet, he seemed so much more experienced, so much more world-weary than I could ever hope to be. It was like he had seen things I could never even imagine, and it made me feel small and insignificant.

But I refused to let him intimidate me. I knew I was in the right, and I was determined to prove it. Even if it meant facing him head-on, even if it meant risking everything I had. I was stubborn like that, and I wasn't going to back down. Not now, not ever.

"You do realize that this is a private property and I can sue you for vandalizing my wall."

"Your wall?" he finally replied, catching me off guard, his voice full of mockery. He continued, 

"You're like what... fifteen? And I don't see a name carved on the thing so, might as well do it a little experiment"

Then he laughed, adding on to my annoyance even more and then he stopped and just stared at me like I'm the funniest little thing he's ever seen. His smug grin never leaving his face. A small dot of a dimple denting the left side of his cheek.

My eyes looked at him in disbelief and him calling me a few years younger than my actual age threw me off the cliff. I fume at him and step a little closer as the following words leave my mouth.

"I can press charges against you for vandalizing my wall. And I'm eighteen years old. This house belonged to my late grandfather and in a few years, this..." I motioned my hand towards the house, "...will be officially named on me. So you are technically vandalizing a private property, which happens to be mine" I was out of breath after that. But the same neutral-curious-fake innocent-look was on his face, totally and utterly unfazed, even a hint of humor casted off his strong features. He is starting to get into my nerves.

"You must be really dense if you don't understand the concept of private property," I retorted, my voice dripping with annoyance.

He scoffed, his eyes rolling as he leaned against the wall he had just vandalized. "Oh please, spare me the lecture. Your grandpa's dead, and this house isn't even legally yours yet. So technically, it's fair game for anyone to do whatever they want with it."

I could feel my blood boiling at his arrogance.

"Excuse me? Just because my grandfather passed away doesn't mean this property is up for grabs. And just because it's not legally mine yet doesn't give you the right to vandalize it. It's still private property."

He chuckled, his smirk only growing wider. "You really don't get it, do you? As a registered public artist, I have the right to display my art in all but private establishments. And since this property isn't officially yours yet, it falls under that category."

"Registered artist my ass," I spat out, my eyes narrowing at him. "You're just using that as an excuse to justify your vandalism. And I don't care if you have a card or not. You're still breaking the law by defacing someone else's property."

He shook his head, his gaze still locked on mine.

"You're such a buzzkill. Lighten up a little, princess. It's just a little paint."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my anger in check. "It's not just a little paint. It's a violation of my property rights. And I'm not going to let you get away with it."

He shrugged, his nonchalance infuriating me even more.

"Suit yourself. But good luck trying to prove that in court. I doubt anyone would take you seriously, especially with that baby face of yours."

I clenched my fists, the urge to punch him in the face almost overpowering. "I may look young, but I know my rights. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect them, even if it means taking you down."

He just chuckled, his arrogance oozing from every pore. "Yeah, good luck with that. You'll need it." And with that, he sauntered off, leaving me seething with anger and frustration.

The next thing I knew, I was practically on top of him, ready to wipe that stupid smirk off his face and make him pay. I hadn't come all the way down here to be insulted by some clueless man who doesn't know his place. And let me tell you, I am not going down without a fight.

"Why don't you take your disrespectful attitude and get the hell out of here before I call the cops on you, you dirty little slime ball! You are a total ass and you're going to end up behind bars when they get here and throw your sorry ass in jail!!!" I shouted, my voice laced with venom.

I couldn't believe that a girl my age would be bold enough, or maybe just plain stupid, to pick a fight with a grown man who was probably on drugs. But this jerk just looked at me with that stupid, mocking expression on his face.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah..." He raised his hands up, palms out in a fake gesture of surrender that only made me angrier.

"Isn't that a little over the top? A little too inappropriate for a sixteen-year-old to say to a twenty-five-year-old man?" he sneered, messing up my age yet again.

"A twenty-five-year-old man who acts like a complete jerk and doesn't know how to follow the rules. And for the love of God, I am eighteen years old!" I exclaimed, my voice rising even higher as I waved my hands around in frustration.

"You think you know better than me, kid?" he asked, putting his spray paint can away in his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"You're the one who should know better than to break the rules!" I snapped back, my voice escalating to a fever pitch. I was surprised my mother wasn't out here yet. Could she not hear me? I was practically deafening myself with all this shouting.

"There are no rules, kid. And even if there were, I'm not breaking any of them," he said coldly, his voice dropping an octave.

That was it. My blood was boiling over like a pot of hot water, and I was the boiling pot. I had completely lost it.

"Grow up and show some respect! And for God's sake, STOP CALLING ME KID!" I was ready to rip his skin off his face and turn into the Hulk.

"Awe..." he cooed, puckering his lips at me in the most infuriating way. That was it. I had lost every last shred of my childishness. I was ready to pull out my phone and call the cops, but then I remembered I had left it in my mother's bag. He must have seen the sudden shift in my expression.

"What's wrong, kid?"

I didn't want to lose this fight to a stupid vandal, so I played along like I still had my phone in my pocket. Desperate for a distraction, I shouted, "I'll see you in jail, asshole!" I never knew I had so much hate and anger in me until now.

He didn't seem fazed at all, a devious smirk still plastered on his face.

He just stood there, staring at me like he was waiting for me to make the next move. Probably bored of waiting, he said something that made my blood run cold. "I'm always in jail. It's practically my second home now, kid." He even gave me a disgusting wink as he turned to leave.

"You are shameless!" I wanted to say more, but he cut me off as he walked away.

"I've been called a lot worse," he tipped a fake hat and finally left, leaving me to stew.

My jaw practically hit the ground, my face contorted with disbelief and a seething anger that boiled within me. I can't even begin to fathom how he had the audacity to insult me and deface my family's property. I hadn't even met him personally, yet he's already proven himself to be the most despicable person I've ever come across in this world.

The nerve of him to leave the wall in such a state of disarray, with smears of mixed colors of paint forming an obscuring picture. I could feel my blood boiling at the mere thought of him returning to inflict more vandalism just to spite me. And I know he will, the shameless cretin that he is.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down by inhaling the warm air that came with the wind. But the more I thought about it, the more incensed I became. He must pay for his actions, there's no way he can just walk away from the mess he's created. I won't stand for it.