Little Red Roslyn | *Weekly Updates!*

Chapter 3 | Little Red Poet

AN// A big thank you to tfuzzballball for this cover :) //

A gasp sent my bag tumbling to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. I bent down to pick my belongings up, my heart racing, my mind overwhelmed from the memories that had just battled through my mind.

"It was just one of her spazzes," I reminded myself. "It means nothing."

"What means nothing?" Hunter's blue eyes gazed at mine, concerned. His sunglasses were in his hands, his hood pulled down. He knelt down beside me and helped me collect my stuff. "Roslyn, are you okay?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Giving Hunter the best reassuring look I could, I smiled. "Yes, I'm fine."

I could see relaxation fixating over his shoulders. "Good. Now go get changed. I've got the key for the suite. I'll just be waiting somewhere around here."

He shoved some clothes at me, pushing me into the bathroom. I smirked at his alarm and shut the door, leaning against it.

Had Hunter just called me by my real name – Roslyn – and not Red?

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, he had."

***

"I thought this was supposed to be a suite."

"It looked like one in the pamphlet."

We both stood in the middle of a small, dingy chamber. There were two twin size beds in the room, on opposite ends. In the middle was a small kitchen, with a stove, a small sink, and two grimy cupboards. There were two small wooden chest drawers on the left of the room and a door for a bathroom toward the right. The room was windowless, but filled with yellow, fluorescent light bulbs. The walls were painted a sickly green, paired up with dark green sheets over the beds.

"This place reminds me of puke." I set my bag on top of the chest drawer, heading toward one of the beds. "Disgusting, nasty puke that's just ready to wash all over me."

"How poetic," Hunter snorted, heading toward the bathroom. "I'm going to go hang up my clothes. They're still a bit wet." He glanced at my alarmed face, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry; I borrowed a spare set from downstairs. I won't be around you naked, I promise."

"Good." I let out a breath of relief, but still looked at him with determined eyes. "But, if you even think about making a move on me – even think – just know that I've learned moves from Bruce Lee, and I know how to make sure you don't have children in the future."

He chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You better."

By the time he had come out of the bathroom, I had set whatever contents of coffee I could find onto the stove and had made a line with pillows through the center of the room.

"What's that supposed to be?"

Stooping down beside the trail of pillows, I traced my finger along the line, proud of my handiwork. "You can't go over your part of the room and I can't go over my part. The only thing we're both allowed to go to is the bathroom and the kitchen."

"The bathroom and the kitchen," He laughed quietly, running a hand through his hair. "All right, Red. Whatever you say."

"And for your information, Hunter, my name is Roslyn, not Red. You had called me that before, and you will call me that again."

Hunter sat down on the bed with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Roslyn reminds me of rosin. You know, the thing that violinists put on their bows. Bows remind me of horse hair – that's what they're made of, after all – and horse hair reminds me of dung. That's why I don't want call you Roslyn."