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“Doing what, Blondie?” I taunt as I tip over a mason jar of dirty paint water.
“Does this asshole you’ve become have an off button? Because I’d really like to push it right now.”
“Unfortunately not, my little Rose. This is what I call my shit disturber personality. What you see is what you get.” I shrugged past her, her cheeks flaming red.
“Well, I want you to get out,” she spat, her hands on her hips.
Just like Tinkerbell, this one- such an angry little fairy.
“So, you're an artist?” I asked, pointing to the painting in front of me, ignoring the way Rose's eyes narrowed.
“Yes.” she huffed. Clearly annoyed with my presence.
I smiled.
“So what? You go to one of those fancy art schools? Spend the days painting away. Making love to your art. Swearing your allegiance to dead artists.” If there's anything I’ve learned about life it's that artist types are always the first to off their soul in favor of their craft. Always so damn poetic.
Rose averted her gaze, arms crossing against her chest.
Struck a nerve now, did I?
“I used to, but I dropped out.” She shrugged.
Oh, I knew there was more to that story, but I didn’t push. Soon enough, she’d be spilling all her secrets to me. It was just a matter of time.
Looking grateful for my lack of probing, Rose turned to the blue painting in front of us.
“It's my summer showcase piece,” she revealed. “It's for a scholarship I’m applying to. I’m actually supposed to have it done by the end of the summer.” She snorted, the self-deprecating sound sending a flash of delight through me,
“I know it's a disaster.” At my young age, I’d like to think I knew a few fucking things, one of them being that's Rose’s painting was many things, but a disaster was not one of them. Although I’d sooner off myself with a rusty kitchen knife than tell her so.
Instead, being the monster that I am, I couldn’t waste the opportunity to shed some experienced wisdom on Blondie's work,
“A train wreck would be a more accurate assessment,” I deadpanned. Rose instantly deflated, and the light that went out in her eyes is almost enough to make me wish I had impaled myself on a rusty kitchen blade.
I ignored the stab of guilt worming its way into my heart. Truth be told, her art made me feel something. And fuckif that didn't terrify me. I needed to get out of here before I let the innocent flower take more from me than she deserved. After all, everyone paid the monster back eventually. And based on the ways things were going, I’d like to spend as little time with the girl as possible. I was about to elaborate on just what those pesky consequences that come with crossing me entail when my phone went off.
My mood immediately dimmed. Who did this prick think he was, texting me in the middle of the day? My fists started opening and closing, my fingers tightening on my iPhone X.
“Everything ok?” Rose asked, her fucking Bambi eyes widening. Looked like play time with Goldie Locks was over. For now, anyways. The two of us still had plenty to chat about. It was only a matter of unfortunate timing that kept me from fucking moans out of Blondie until she was spilling all her secrets. After all, the little liar still had my journal. And I had no intention of letting the thief keep what was mine.
“Looks like we’re gonna need to reschedule, Blondie. Something’s come up.” She scowled at my demanding tone, and the look was almost enough to make me forget about the shit message on my home screen.
“Don't bother,” she snapped. “I don't have what you want.”
“You see, I’ll let that little lie slide.” I lifted her chin. “But only because I’ve got to run, and I’ve decided to be nice.” I winked at her, watching as an angry blush sweeps across her cheeks.
“I look forward to our next chat, Blondie,” I shouted, sucking up her glare as my black Timberland boots kicked open the door.
Only once it closed did I let my monster consume me. My heart slowly hardened to ice. Time to show this twisted city just why they called me the ice prince. And to think it was only Tuesday. I lit a blunt and pressed the button on the elevator.
It was shaping up to be quite the fucking week.
Chapter 6
Rose
I hated hospitals.
