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My life has always been about Rose. Since I’ve been able to have loving and lustful feelings toward another being, Rose has been the center of them. I orbit around her like I would just disappear into the galaxy if I didn’t. Sam has visibly been in the same situation as me his whole life. Two planets going round and round in Rose’s galaxy.
I don’t realize when I fall asleep. For the first time in practically two years, I’m not scared as I do. I don’t feel like I should sleep with one eye open. No, all my brain can focus on is a scientific, astronomic issue. I’ve always hated exams. The anxiety, my clammy hands gripping my pencil. The focus on trying to get my stupid brain to at least understand one instruction. One math problem, one literary piece. It burned my head, giving me fevers and cold sweats. That’s how I’m feeling as I fall asleep. I have a problem written on an exam paper that I just keep reading over and over again…
Two orbits on their own separate trajectories have been circling around the same burning star since before the dawn of time. What happens if said orbits collide?
You have one hour.
30
ROSE
Blood In The Cut– K.Flay
Lik parks Sam’s car at the back of Vue Club. The drive was long and silent enough that I had time to calm myself and think of how to get back at the two men. They had their little fun, they won points at games they made up, and now the ball is in my court. I don’t have the physical strength to fight the two, but my damnable beauty has never failed me. And neither has my intellect.
It was fascinating to listen to them arguing about me yesterday. And it’s even more fascinating to watch their dynamics. Sam dominates Lik in a way the latter requires. In a way, that also creates a deep craving for dominance in him. And he chose to wield that on me.
Fine, I can play that game. I can slither myself between them and obliterate them from the inside. It took so little for Lik to start fixating on me, he almost made it too easy. All I had to do was shoot him.
Then he took pleasure retaliating today.
A strong woman who falls to her knees for him. He wants what practically all the men I’ve ever met wanted. They see a beautiful, enchanting girl who doesn’t let anyone push them around, and they feel like stronger men when they shut her up.
Pathetic.
And easily faked.
The problem is my stupid, stubborn brain that refuses to comply when I’m told an order. I try, but the burning prickles of pride spread across my skin and make me fight back. And since the Volkov brothers entered my life, my wildness has become less and less controllable.
Right now, Lik is conflicted. I see it in the way he’s still holding the steering wheel when the car has been parked for five minutes. I notice how he chews on the three pieces of gum he shoved in his mouth during the drive. By his temples, muscles clench and unclench as he grinds hard enough to pull one. I observe his face, my eyes taking him in. His eyelashes are so long they give mine a good run for their money. His deep brown eyes currently reflect a need for power, self-control, and authority—something he represses around Sam.
His lips are dark and plump, and he keeps rolling them inwardly. His skin is darker than mine. While I look Mediterranean in a sun-kissed skin sense, he has that extra glow, that sun in his blood that never goes away despite being born in America.
It comes to my mind that I don’t even know if that’s accurate.
“Were you born here?” I ask before I can rear back my words.
It makes him chuckle, his rings-covered fingers finally letting go of that poor steering wheel.
“People who ask me that question usually want to send me back to wherever I was born.”
I give him a terse, understanding nod. I never experienced racism, and I couldn’t understand it. I have a completely different experience with life than he does. All I can relate to is knowing what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong. Not with the rich, the middle, or the working class. Not with a white American foster family, a mixed orphanage, or an Italian abusing foster dad. Not in a preparatory school that houses children of politicians or in the North Shore, broken by poverty and abandoned by the government.
I know what it’s like to wonderwhereyou were born and have no idea of the answer. To look at my eyes and ask my mirror if they belonged to my mom or dad. To rub my hands against my skin and wonder what kind of beautiful colors I’m a mix of. Mainly, I wonder why my parents made the fateful decision they didn’t want me in their lives.
“I don’t even care where you were born,” I admit. It just came out while my brain was spinning out of control from looking at his beautiful body.
“I don’t care where you were born either,” he answers like a kid who got turned down.You don’t want to be my friend? I didn’t even want to be your friend anyway.
“I don’t know where I was born,” I chuckle just to say something. Just so he doesn’t win our little back and forth.
There’s a short silence. “If we don’t know who your parents are…” He pauses, like every other time someone starts seriously talking about the fact that my brothers and I were abandoned. “Does that mean we don’t know who gave you your infuriating brat genes?”
The humor tinting his voice makes me cackle a laugh despite the current situation. I’m just too thankful it wasn’t another one of those ‘I’m sorry you got abandoned, and it fucked your entire life’ kind of sentence.
“Why, do you know which of your parents gave you issues that you turned to BDSM needs?”
He fakes a gasp, putting a hand against his chest. “I’ll have you know, all I look for in a guy is someone that protects me, takes care of me, and makes all the decisions. Is that too hard to understand?”
