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Also, isn’t rock too extreme for your prim-and-proper image? Not that I’m judging. I actually dig the contradiction. Kinda makes it fun to try and figure you out.
Why did you want to become an artist?
Aren’t you too uptight to be into something that requires people to let go of their creativity? Or are you different when painting?
Please tell me you do that half naked. It’s blasphemous to hide beautiful bodies, you know.
Want to exchange numbers? Here’s mine XXXXXXXX.
Hello, lotus flower’s inbox, lovely to see you again this evening.
You looked hot today.
Not that I’m hitting on you or anything since you’re sooo straight.
Let’s consider this my hopeless one-sided crush on a straight guy. You don’t have to reciprocate.
Unless you want to *eyebrow wiggle emoji* *sunglasses emoji*
Yup. All good. My texts are still sitting prettily in here. Will check again later to make sure.
I sent that text two days ago, before I saw him with Clara.
I didn’t text him after that, but now, I see the first reply from him. Earlier this evening.
Stop bugging me or I’ll block you.
But hedidn’tblock me. He even accepted my text that was in his requests since I follow him and he obviously doesn’t follow me.
I narrow my eyes on the screen. Is there a meaning behind this?
Why would he reply days later?
Fuck this shit. Seriously. I’m losing my few remaining brain cells because of this asshole.
I put on my shorts, and yes, I was swimming naked. If any of the guys came in, well, tough shit.
When I arrive at the main hall, I’m greeted by one of my guards who my parents made follow us here. Jeremy and I use them to cause mayhem more than anything.
“Sir,” he starts with a Russian accent. “I thought you might want to know that your cousin Killian was attacked. He’s upstairs now.”
I narrow my eyes. “Upstairs, as in alive, or upstairs, as in, in his casket?”
A crease appears on his forehead and he says slowly, almost like he’s not sure, “Alive. He lost consciousness, I think.”
Thank fuck.
Kill’s death would probably be inconvenient. Not to mention bad. At least, for Aunt Reina, who’s Mom’s identical twin.
But then again, this is an opportunity for violence.
How will I punish those who hurt my cousin? Punch them to death? Waterboard them? Step on them—in a non-erotic way, of course?
Too many options.
I take the stairs two at a time and swing his door open, my head sliding in first. “Heard Kill nearly got killed. See what I did there? Also, whose head do I have to cut from their body, rip the flesh from, and hang on a stick—”
I stop mid-sentence.
