A Red Rose and A Silver Sin

2. Dallas

Freya was like a wingless angel;

Beautiful, clever, forbidden. But I shoved all those feelings down as I strode towards the class. The umbrella folded up neatly in my bag as I made my way down the hall.

Sloppy blond curls fell over my eyes as I reached the door to the class. But how could I be expected to stay perfectly groomed while I lived in a stolen car? Nobody could manage that, even while maintaining a two hour morning routine.

I should have gotten her number, should have memorized the pretty curve of her cheeks, or the way her hair fell across them, framing her face. The feeling of her skin under my lips was enough to spark a fire within the pit of my stomach.

I shouldn't have run into her.

Sighing, I shoved down the feeling of her honey brown eyes on him. Love was dangerous. I had been so careful, so very careful to make sure there was nothing that could be taken away from me. If I had nothing, I could lose nothing. I could live within my means. But Freya was a golden present slide before me, like a warm ray of sunlight after a freezing night.

But stealing even a single ray could mean losing the sun forever. That was a line I walked daily. Every decision was selfless, or it could - it would - mean my demise.

My heart stopped dead in my chest when she peeled the door to the art room open, her eyes scanning the room in the minute before the class would begin. My easel was big enough to hide behind. I could duck down, pretend I was focused one something, anything else. But if she knew I was here, and I knew she was here, and the whole class was already chittering around, friends and bounds already sealed.

Nobody turned to greet her. Nobody blinked twice when she entered. It seemed almost impossible that someone so effortlessly beautiful could be so abandoned.

Only one face turned to greet her. A single girl covered in piercings, her hair amber like a rose, waved and smiled.

And Freya, bless the gods, Freya smiled right back. She smiled, her cheeks still pink from the walk.

I pressed my palms to my face, watching her sit down beside the red-headed girl.

Thank the gods, she didn't notice me. Still, I couldn't help the pang of sadness in my gut. Loneliness was a dark path I had chosen for myself, but that didn't mean it wasn't without its trials. Self-inflicted pain was pain nonetheless. Though most people show little pity in the face of it.

When I looked back to her, I could see her eyes dancing across my face. A hand closed around that of her friend as the teacher burst through the room. I tipped my gaze to him before she could catch me staring.

She's going to be the death of me, I swear.

I watch Freya pull a pair of glasses from her bag, slipping them onto her face with the palms of her hands as the teacher starts talking. From here, I can see the edges of the glasses, their hue flashing deep red, like velvet. I can imagine running my fingers along their edges as I trace the line of her face, he cheeks bright red under my touch.

"This year," the teacher began, and suddenly, I missed the entire first half of his speech. "We will be focusing on relationships through art. Familial, romantic, you pick it."

I can already hear people around the room getting excited, some holding hands and already squealing as ideas flood their minds.

"But," he continues, smirking as he knows his devilish teaching is about to unfold. "You must work with someone who is not sitting next to you, and who you didn't work with last year. I have the roster, for anyone who needs to be reminded of their partners."