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A/N: Argh once again I'm here apologising deeply for the late update! D': Lets just say that, metaphorically speaking, I was stuck in a huuuge traffic jam!

Ps. I think we're about halfway through the book now! :) So don't worry guys, there's heaps more belatedly updated chapters to come! ;D

Jokes! Don't worry, I will try my ever hardest to avoid uploading late! Anywhos, enjoooy xx

CH 28 |

I stare at the scene playing ahead of me with numb jaw-muscles, as my jaw has epically smacked the ground. Not sure if I'm figuratively speaking or not.

This is due to two reasons:

One, the stunning architecture of this safe house: The grey, sand-colour and white hues, the modern, simplistic decor — of which makes the place look so refreshing — and the exquisite artworks hanging on the walls. The ambience that has been given as I walked through the hallway was aesthetic, and I thought it couldn't have gotten any more gorgeous until my head peeked into the living room. Wendy was not kidding when she told me that Vincent is a terrific interior designer.

The second reason why my jaw has dropped lower than my butt ever could on a dancefloor, is because sitting on the snow-white couch is Vincent

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The second reason why my jaw has dropped lower than my butt ever could on a dancefloor, is because sitting on the snow-white couch is Vincent. No, not because he looks gorgeous with his perfectly ruffled blonde hair — or the black henley shirt and dark-grey, slim tracksuit pants that he's currently wearing which makes him look like some sort of Abercrombie model — but because in his hands laid a rubix cube, of which he was fiddling with furiously as he stared out into space, contemplating deeply.

He promised me he'd never play with one of those ever again!

At one point when we were best friends, he used to be obsessed with rubix cubes. He would spend all his pocket money buying all sorts of special edition models and then training himself to become a champion. As his best friend, I would support him of course... Until he became so obsessed that he would stop hanging out with me. So, as a ten year old would do, I got really mad and so he promised me that he would never touch a rubix cube ever again.

... However, maybe that's exactly why he's playing with one right now — because he loathes me anyway and he hopes that figuring out a rubix cube will help him figure out why the heck he went through all that trouble to save me.

Finally managing to click my jaw back in place, I shrug my shoulders. Makes sense.

I silently approach him and sit on the other end of the couch. All the while, if he notices he doesn't show it as he continues to stare at the wall with a stoic expression. I watch as his fingers continue to twiddle with the cube vigorously, his eyes not even looking at it. In a matter of seconds, he's completed.

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