Reversed (NEW CHAPTER!)

Chapter 31: Counterfeit Courtesan

 It had been a long night, and I really just wanted to go home and rest up, knowing what I was in for the second Gabriel finished his designs and brought them into the real world. I knew the guys would want a play-by-play, however, and I still had Brandon's S.U.V, so to the Sergeant Jasper it was!

I trudged through the hallways until I was standing in front of their apartment door, surprised when I realized this was quickly becoming a habit. How many times had I been here in the past week? I didn't even know. The number certainly wasn't going down though. At least all was quiet on the other side for once.

I knocked in a random sequence and the door immediately opened.

Brandon's eyes immediately locked with mine, frozen before raking down my body. And back up again. Several times.

How could I forget? I was still in my original Enzo Moreau, which was tight enough to be a second skin, dark enough for any frequenter of Hot Topic to approve, and short enough to ensure a pretty hefty sum would be made if I decided to go stand on any street corner. Minus the boots, of course, which were probably longer than the actual dress.

I cleared my throat.

"Can I come in?" I raised an amused eyebrow.

Brandon nodded wordlessly, stepping aside.

"We didn't expect you back tonight," he finally got out.

"And we especially didn't expect you back wearing that," Marc smirked from a little bed I assumed the guys had made him on the couch. He was not at all shy about his visual perusing.

"I had to get Gabriel's attention somehow," I shrugged, going into the kitchen to grab myself a bottle of water and downing half of it.

"You got it," Brandon grumbled under his breath.

"Well you've certainly got mine," Marc grinned.

"No offense, but Gabriel's was the target tonight, Boyband," I winked.

"You wound me," Marc released a false gasp and clutched at his bandaged shoulder. "Look! Proof!"

I rolled my eyes, amused. "That's only proof that I'm a good shot with a throwing knife and some asshole had an itchy trigger finger. I did the saving, not the actual maiming."

"Ah, yes! My hero! How could I forget? My goddess! I shall write you sonnets that rival that of Shakespeare! They will tell tale of your beauty, your strength, your feline prowess, your --"

"So I take it the drugs are working?" I cut him off with a smirk.

"Marvelously," he grinned widely. "How did taming the tortured artist go?"

"I'd say pretty well," Brandon said with a bit of an edge.

"Uh-uh! None of that passive aggressive bullshit -- If you have something to say, say it," I demanded.

Brandon sighed, pulling out his phone, bringing up his messages, and handing it over to me.

Brandon: What's the word on 'Wannabe Vera Wang with a Wang?' You two tell each other to fuck off and call it a day yet?

I had to snort when I read a text that must've been from Gabriel; "Wang here. And to answer your question, not yet, but I'm telling you to go suck a bag of dicks! Have fun! We sure will... Xoxo"

And another that came in seconds later that simply read, "#GossipGabe."

"You gotta stop letting people get your goat over text, it makes you predictable and easy to mess with. Don't be predictable, dear," I winked patronizingly, handing him back his phone and patting his cheek a bit harder than necessary.