Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
. . .
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It was hard to love the sea when one couldn't leave the shore. . . . Dahlia
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"...Hi."
I looked up at Andros or Hedeon Kozlov. I couldn't really tell at the first glance.
I was sitting on my regular bench in the dog park, but it was really late so no one was there. There was a streetlight a few steps away, but its light barely illuminated the man who now sat beside me.
He leaned back into the bench, head casually tilting to the side and somehow I just knew it was Andros. "Dahlia," he began. "I cooked for us."
"You cooked?"
He gave me a simple nod. "I did. And I am a very good cook. I planned to take you to my yacht and eat dinner while the sun set. That is romantic, is it not?"
"It is." I agreed, putting my phone down. But I couldn't get out the text my dad had sent yesterday out of my mind. I hadn't gone to visit my dad today, too scared of what he'd say.
He didn't call as I had expected, not even a text came.
But my mom texted.
Your father owns the apartment you live in.
Nothing is nicer than having your home threatened. My mother always did know where to hit.
"What are you doing here?" I asked after a while of just staring at the grass. I could hear the coo of segulls, even through the shore was quiet far.
"I was driving by. I saw you. It's not safe to be here this late."
"It's not," I agreed. "I am going to crash in the shelter for the night."
He looked at the shelter. "You work there?"
"I volunteer."
"Why?"
"I don't know," I said. "I feel like we take so much away from animals. The least we can do is give them security." I looked at him. "Do you like animals?"
He shrugged. "I'd say I like them as much as the next person."
"There is a kitten there," I said after a moment. "No one wants her. She has been there for about a month."
"Why does no one want her?"
"She's blind," I said. "And she is a kitten. So she needs a lot of care, and people can't do it. That kind of..." I shrugged, looking back at the grass. "Just breaks my heart, I guess."
"Do you do that a lot?"
"What?"
"Break your heart for others."
I chuckled humourlessly. "I'm not that much of a...feelings person. I care about that kitten more than I care about many people. What does that say?"
