Piece by Piece

30. One

This chapter is not very filled with plot points and has a bit more of a mature feel. So you are free to skip it and I'll give you a recap of the essentials at the end.

♣️♣️♣️

It was maybe too soon and insensitive as fuck, but Davyn couldn't care less.

When he'd gone to the art studio, he'd just wanted to maybe talk a bit and kiss her some more. But once she'd succumbed to her passion for art and completely ignored him, his plan changed. She'd never looked more attractive to him, more filled with life. Of course, it was easy to pull her into his lap, kiss, tease, and touch her. It was her decision to allow it which pushed him to do what he was doing now.

After all, she was right. Maybe he should stop acting like he was taking something from her. Let her decide her own fate even if her decisions might not be the wisest.

Getting in the car with him was definitely not wise.

"Where are we going?" Millie asked, propping her feet on the edge of the seat and hugging her knees to her chest.

"Don't do that." He reached out his hand and pushed her knees down.

"Why not?"

"Because if we get into an accident, your knees would go right through your chest."

"Wow, I didn't see you as the cautious type."

He huffed. "There are some risks you can take, but getting killed in a car crash doesn't seem like the type of thing to risk for the sake of badassery."

"Badassery?" She tilted her head but didn't try to get her legs up again. There was a shadow of sadness on her face and his heart skipped a beat.

He knew what she was thinking. That his dad had died in a car crash so it must be a sore subject. What shocked him was that, in truth, it wasn't. That car crash, the drugs... He still refused to believe it. This maddening discrepancy was still at the back of his mind, but he hadn't had the disposition to sink into it yet. But as the days passed and it continued to surface, he was sure it wouldn't be much longer.

"That's not a word," she pressed on.

He appreciated her very obvious attempt to steer clear of the painful subject. "It can too be a word. Shakespeare invented a lot of the words he used in his plays. Especially the insults."

"Huh. I didn't know that."

"You're failing your cliché of the artsy good girl who is into classical literature."

She laughed at this, the sound driving the last of the tension away. "I'm sorry, I'm not much for reading. And good to know I'm not a cliché."

True. He would've hated her if she were. Instead, he got this strange creature that seemed to be made to fit in between the cracks inside him.

"You still haven't answered my original question. Where are we going?'

He pulled over in front of the apartment building and killed the engine. "Right here."

She looked up at the red brick four-story building. Yes, it was old, but it was sturdy and had a classical type of architecture that would most likely soon disappear.

"This is very close to school," she observed.

"That was the whole point." He got down and rounded the car to pull her out as well.

She kept staring, as if unsure of what they were doing there. It was so very obvious, but her innocence bordering on ignorance was oddly endearing.

"It's on the fifth floor," he said, waving his hand to indicate that she should go first.