Arabelle Vine, a 22 year old photographer in Seattle Washington, is happy with her current life. She has friends, a great family, and a job she loves. But Arabelle wants to be more than just content with her life. She wants excitement, and she wants...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The cold wind chafes my skin as I walk up the steps to Romans house. September is coming to an end, and Seattle just keeps getting colder and colder.
I shuffle around in my purse, looking for the spare key he gave me.
Roman's away for a couple of days, he's headed to Boston for a match. Probably one of the biggest fights he's ever had.
Thousands upon thousands of people will fill the arena on Friday, ready to see him and his biggest competitor fight. So while he's gone, I'm in charge of taking care of Willow.
I loud boom of thunder reverberates through the sky as I slip the key into the lock.
I shut and lock the door behind me, as I hear Willow run down the stairs. She barks at me as I kick off my black boots.
"Hey baby." I crouch down to her height, letting her attack me with kisses. "How are ya?" I scratch behind her ears, remembering Roman telling me that's her favorite spot to be pet.
I place my purse down on the little hall table he has, fishing through the random items I have in there for my phone.
Once I've found it, I make my way up to his room. I told him I would sleep in one of the guest rooms, but he insisted that I sleep in his room. Practically getting mad at me for even suggesting it.
I place my duffel bag on the chair in his room, looking around at his perfect bedroom. Everything in his house is organized. From his labeled pantry, to his perfectly lined up shoes in his closet. It's very easy to tell he's a neat freak, I've caught him once or twice lining things up in my apartment. But I have no problem with it. If he wants to organize my apartment for fun, then he can. But I wouldn't say my apartment needs much organizing, just my kitchen, and closet. I'm a fairly neat person.
I slip off my long tan coat, and hang it on the back of the chair. Leaving me in my mom jeans and a cream turtleneck sweater.
I walk over to the photos hung on his wall, looking at the different pictures. There are two with his parents, and a bunch with him and the guys. I look at the two new ones that hang, recalling that they weren't there when I was here two days ago.
He had called me over, late at night to go over what to do while he was gone, and I ended up staying the night.
I smile as I take in the new pictures. One is one that I took the night we met. It's a picture of him staring right at the camera, the referee holding up his arm in victory. He's smiling, his tattooed body glistening with sweat under the bright lights. You can see everyone in the crowd cheering, and off to the side you can see Milo, Luca, Kai, and his coach smiling and hugging each other.
My eyes shift to the one below it, my heart feels like it grows as I stare at the selfie we took at the bar the night we met. It was meant to be his contact picture for me, but I know he's already changed that to a picture he took of me that day at the lake.
