She got into the shower, scrubbing away the chlorine residue, alcohol, and worse, trying to ignore the stickiness between her legs and rub it away. Getting rid of the evidence would make it easier to pretend it never happened. She removed the bandage from the back of her neck, throwing it in the trash. It didn't have any blood on it, so she suspected that whatever injury she had, it wasn't super serious. She didn't really care, and attempting to look at it in the mirror was hopeless, it was on the back of her neck, and there was no way she was getting a glimpse of it.
She dressed, drying her hair and placing the dress on, looking in the mirror with a weak smile. She felt pretty, but for some reason, it felt spoiled. She tried to ignore it, continuing to pack her bags with the clothes she would need, it was getting cooler as the summer faded over the weeks and fall started to fog its way into the city, leaving a gentle, soothing touch. It had gone by so fast, and she had hardly gotten to experience the warmth of it on her skin, she had spent basically the whole time trapped in this damn room.
Opening the unlocked door, she could hear the music blasting through the living room speakers, and every pound of the base did more hell for her headache. She struggled down the stairs, juggling two bags and gripping the leash Zuni was attached to. She entered the living room, sighting him sitting on the couch, rubbing his lower lip as he stared at the screen of his cell phone in his hand. He didn't even acknowledge she was there, nor was she expecting him to. His eyes were dark, focussed intensely on whatever he was looking at a little too much for her comfort.
"You need to blend in for what we're doing," his words were sharp, and she was surprised he had even known she entered earshot, he certainly hadn't reacted physically to her entrance. "Which means, you keep your head down and your mouth shut, you understand?" that was when he looked up from his phone, looking at her behind shaggy bangs. She wished he wasn't so intense all the time, would it kill him to ease the dramatization a bit?
"Yes," she bit out with an inner eye roll, watching as he got up, walking to grab his own suitcase. He pushed back the tapestry for the elevator, waiting for her to get in with the struggle of two bags and a dog under her arm. She kind of wanted his help, but she would never say that, nor did she expect it from him. Helping her would have been much too gentlemanly for him. The ride on the elevator was silent, and air tense. It was obvious they were both on edge, and she knew why she was, but he had no idea why he would be mad at her, what the hell did I do?!
Well, except for the escapades the night before, obviously not listening to what he wanted. But it still seemed like a bit of an overreaction from his end. She was twenty-one years old! she was an adult! She could do whatever the fuck she wanted. He couldn't be mad at her for acting on her autonomy, and if he was, then he was a bigger douchebag than she thought.
But, he wasn't mad at her at all, despite her suspicions the only one he was furious with was himself. Gladly she wore her hair down so he couldn't be reminded with the visual of what he had done. He felt more sorry for her than mad.
The elevator doors slid open and he walked off, and she trailed behind with her tumbling bags across the underground parking lot, towards the back door that lead up a set of cement stairs, where he actually grabbed one of her bags. To her, he looked annoyed that she was taking too long, yanking a bag from her hand and pushing the handle down, gripping the strap with a fist, and carrying it up the stairs with his own bag.
She let out a sigh in annoyance at his pissy behavior, picking up the dog and her other bag, and struggling to carry them up the cold stairs. She watched ahead as Maxwell opened the metal door at the top of the flight, turning to wait for her as she shook with each step. She eventually made it, walking out the backdoor. She found herself in an alleyway, it looked like they were situated behind the Hell's Heaven building, and by the curb stood a massive RV. It had an aura of sophistication, and it certainly looked expensive. It was tall, and long, with beautiful etchings across its sides of coffee and chocolate brown, accented by beige lines.
YOU ARE READING
His Angel
Romance"You have a name, don't you?" his voice was deep and irritable, but rather calm. Her eyes lifted just slightly, now staring at the edges of dark hair that hung an inch or two from his shoulders. Her lack of answer seemed to annoy him further, she co...
