Sequel of The Devil & The Angel: Volume 1
A year and a half has passed since young Daisy Miller met the dark devilishly handsome Damien D'Angelo. Now the two are smack bang in the middle of a new chapter together, living their passion filled lives...
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Chapter Song - Jealous by Nick Jonas
An enemy;a person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.
I don't have enemies; unless Damien's shadows count, but he can deal with the cloaked in blood men. Personally I don't have enemies. People I don't like? For sure. People I'm scared of? Oh yeah. But enemies?
Nuh.
Some would've believed we were enemies. I mean her power to rummage over my boyfriend was proof, but I never hated her. Definitely no such thing as enemies, so this description isn't one i'd use between Bianca and I.
Mhm, Bianca.
Bianca Webster, a girl embedded in a few senior year memories. Albeit nothing major, unless you count her shoving me against the lockers and growling at me like a wolf.
Except the 'mean' girl I had trouble with in high school stares back at me with calmness, kindness, and a sweet hint of mischief.
A hint that isn't nauseating, but instead intriguing.
"This is weird, isn't it?" she breaks the tense silence. The only pressure keeping this awkwardness from snapping is the bustling sound of the corner cafe we currently reside in.
It was a silent choosing for us to sit down face to face on a corner table, and it was a silent choice to order both our coffee's and sip them quietly as we wait for the other to speak.
I laugh that light awkward laugh. "A little bit," I answer, taking another sip of my coffee with one sugar.
Her lips, painted with a simple nude pink lipstick, tip up at the sides. Bianca with the bleach blonde hair, nails that did leave a scratch and clothing you could tell she didn't like - she is completely gone.
In front of me sits a girl with her dark brown silk head of hair cascading over one shoulder. Neatly dressed in sheer black tights, a simple pencil skirt and blouse, with her beige trench coat hung around her chair.
This version of her I don't want to say looks better, because that implies I thought she looked terrible before - when she didn't.
No, this version seems more her. As if the dark brown of her hair is the natural type she was born with. As if her neat and classy attire is like a second skin, and the simple pink sparkle on her nails is a little light on her true self.
"You look...different," I blurt out, my eyes widening. "Thats in a good way, which I don't mean you looked bad before. You were really pretty, which you are now as well but- oh god," I sink into my hands, wanting to stuff my head into a blender.
Bianca only smiles amusedly. "No, I do. You're not saying anything incorrect, I do look different and for the better," she tells me. "I wasn't dressing for me, I was dressing for the attention I thought would bring me joy, but it only made things worse," she admits truthfully.
