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My siblings, however, didn’t get the merciful version of my otherworldly transformation. I don’t like them making fools out of themselves, and I might have taken drastic measures to make sure they’re not acting like idiots.
What? It reflects badly on my pristine image.
I leave the art studio, and even though I’m running on more sleep deprivation than a seasoned hooker, I greet my colleagues, comment on their atrocious edgy clothes, and make small talk with my current and previous professors, who would worship me if I started a cult.
All the social interactions are a strain, painfully empty, and hold the importance of a used napkin. And yet I’m an excellent conversationalist and the holy messiah of charming others.
It all comes down to wearing the appropriate mask in the right situation and with the right people.
It still bores me to tears, though.
People as a concept have only one merit—the ability to be used. Other than that, they’re a brainless, rotten species that I like to pretend I don’t belong to.
Finally, I leave the charade of pretending I give a fuck about their fangirling and fanboying.
I grab a coffee from the nearest coffee shop, making sure I tell the owner she looks like Princess Diana on her wedding day. Complete nonsense that she gobbles up without a hint of doubt.
Then I consume my three-shot espresso in one go and dunk the cup in the bin.
My brain restarts in quick overdrive, ready for whatever I dish his way. Yes, I know too much caffeine isn’t healthy, but I’m not beneath using crutches when I need an extra boost.
Whether it’s cigarettes, coffee, or sex.
I slide into my McLaren and check my phone. After I left last night, I sent Mia a very sweet good night text.
Landon:My cock is pleased to make the acquaintance of your wet little mouth and he can’t wait to meet your cunt after my fingers made a compelling recommendation.
Landon:Oh, and good night. Have an erotic dream of me plowing into your tight little hole.
Unsurprisingly, she didn’t reply at the time.
Now, however, I find a text from her. She sent it about fifteen minutes ago, during the time I was playing my Prince Charming role to perfection.
Mia:Oh, I did dream of you all right. You were hanging from a tree by the balls and I snipped your dick off *scissors emoji* I’d be careful if I were you. My dreams usually come true.
I throw my head back in genuine laughter. This girl is, by all accounts, the most entertaining thing since playing chess with Eli or Uncle Aiden.
Maybe even more so.
Landon:Point is, you still dreamt of me. You like me that much, huh?
Her reply is immediate. Something rare.
I’m breaking that wall, brick by each brick. Once I’m done, my muse will be fully mine.
Mine to own.
Mine to use.
Mine to destroy.
Mia:The delusional police called. You’re under arrest for spreading fake news. In case that wasn’t clear, you’re the last person on earth I’d like.
Landon:And yet you choked on my cock like a good girl.
The dots appear and disappear, but her reply doesn’t come.
Landon:Lost for words?
