Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 62 - Thursday: Getting Ready to Pick Flowers

Dannique

He actually showed up, parking his bike at the back of our building, as instructed via message, so I could let him directly into the kitchen.

I really didn't think the pretty boy was going to show up. Why would he show up? It's bloody 4:30am, and I'm not paying him much, and we really didn't hit it off at all yesterday. Yet, here he is, knocking for me to let him in.

"Who's there?" I ask through the door since it's cold outside, and I'm feeling a bit mean because he didn't let me down as he was supposed to.

"Seriously? It's the bloody tooth fairy! You saw me through the window. Let me in, or I'm taking off."

I quickly unlock the door and let him in out of the cold. I feel marginally bad now. He is really helping me out here, and I'm being a bitch. There is just something about the guy that brings out the best in me.

"I just couldn't believe my eyes. Doesn't the tooth fairy only come out at night?"

"Uh-huh, I'm kinda bummed that you're up too; I was really looking forward to climbing up there and washing your window."

"Right. As if you'd be able to climb up to my win..." I look at his thighs, the way he moves and decide just to shut up. I think he might be able to get up there if he wanted to... and he might even piss against my window like he said he would. After all, he showed up like he said he would.

Yeah, he could climb the wall. He has that whole light-footed panther thing going. I don't like it. I think I've managed to trap myself in our kitchen with someone who could be pretty dangerous if he wants to be.

Tanner puts his helmet down on an empty shelf, pulls off his motorcycle jacket and blazer, and piles them on top of his helmet. He grabs one of the aprons hanging from hooks on the wall and puts it on.

"Wow! Sexy! Martha Stuart, move over."

He gives me a look, his head still lowered, which makes the look a little scary. To be honest, he is sexy... even in an apron.

"But I guess you already know that. Strutting around, using your smile and your weird-ass eyes to put girls at ease and then you wiggle your pinkie, and their panties just drop to their feet."

He is frowning at me as if he really doesn't get what I'm saying. Of course, he doesn't; I had half the conversation in my head and didn't mean to say this part out loud. It took me a few seconds to realise that I just heard my voice fade away in the quiet kitchen.

Doesn't matter, I know the type! Intimately! I lost my virginity to the type a year ago. Beginning of last year, to be exact. I'd just turned 17.

Ramon Salvatore. Two years older than me. I thought he was the perfect guy. He certainly had the perfect looks, a bit like Romeo, but nothing in comparison to this specimen of the type now standing in our kitchen, looking at me as if I had made a wrong turn and got lost.

Ramon made me feel as if I was special and beautiful and the only girl in the world for him. I started to style my hair, wear some make-up and even stupid dresses that made me feel pretty. All to please him. Once he finally got what he wanted from me, he stuck around for a few days, and then I saw him kissing another girl.

When I confronted him, he told me: "Bella! There are many beautiful, fragrant flowers in this world; it is cruel and selfish to expect me to just taste the nectar of the same flower every day for the rest of my life. You're not losing me, Amore; beautiful bouquets have many flowers in them. I'm a lover of bouquets; bouquets contain so many fragrances to enjoy."