The Con She Called Love

iron liver

              Its past twelve and Riley sleeps soundly as her snores bounce off the walls of our apartment. I turn to head to my bedroom, it's been a long night. 

             Each article of clothing comes off and exposes my fully inked arms. I walk over to my dresser and pick out a grey oversized tank top and put it on. I tame my blonde hair enough so its put into a messy bun lying atop my head. I'm bare besides my tank top and it has never felt so good to let my body be free of containment. 

            My eyes droop and I know that I should be going to bed, and so I lay on the mattress and close my eyes. 

*

               "Uh, Grant? Why do I need to know if one of your stalkers called asking for a pair of your boxers? That's happened already. I told you to block-" I was interrupted as Grant put a hand over my mouth, signaling for me to stop.

"Your dad called, and I thought we agreed not to speak of what happened with Creepy Boxer Stealing Stalker?" He interjected quietly. I roll my eyes and he takes his hand off my mouth.

        "Wait, my dad called you?" I ask, skeptically. Grant nods, and I am calling all curiosity. What could he possibly want with Grant? 

             "Yeah, he said that I need to stay away from you because I'm not a good influence on you," he laughs, "if only he knew." 

            I let out a chuckle, "yeah, if only." 

       We decide to ditch the party and go to the park a few streets down.  The sky was a bottomless black hole and I've come to enjoy its empty company. Grant and I walk in comfortable silence; I drift into a thoughtless area in my mind. 

         We must've been walking around numbly for a while because the sun starts to set, and my eyes feel like dying cells. I've been awake too long. Grant reaches for my hand, which he successfully grabs, and we set out into the truck that was still parked at whoever was hosting the party. I don't remember getting back here, but I'm all too focussed on getting back home. I think Grant was, too, or he was still a little drunk. 

            He drives out of the makeshift parking lot, then onto the open road. The green light on the dash tells me the time: 3:32.  No wonder my head hurts. 

           "Tell me you aren't experiencing a hangover right now?" Grant looks my way, a smirk appears and I want to punch him. 

           "Shut up," I grumble, I can't think of a better comeback. Maybe because this was the actual first hangover I have had. 

          He chuckles loudly, and it makes me want to snap his neck. Grant shakes his head all the while smiling.

       "The Iron Liver crumbles," he mumbles and stares at me. That earns him a smile. 

        I turn back to the road and suddenly see a semi coming straight at us, we are now in the other lane. 

         My mouth tried to form a word, any word, and my limb hits Grant's. He quickly looks and time reluctantly stood paralyzed. I was watching but not fully comprehending. I look with tears in my eyes at Grant. My lungs have weights on them, I cannot breathe properly. He steers to the right but not fast enough. I catch the fear in his eyes. He turns towards me. My eyes are like a water faucet that don't entirely work properly; broken. I let it fall. My heart is put through fire, but unlike testing gold and resulting in a stronger element, my heart will decay until all that is left is black ash for the wind to ferry. 

* 

          I wake up abruptly as a knock resounds on the door of my apartment. Two forty–six is what the black box on my nightstand shouts at me. I may have dreamt that part too. I wait patiently for another round of knocks to unquestionably slap the face of sleep out of me. 

             Two forty–nine. Another knock comes. I get out of bed and drag my feet against the pale wood of the floor. I open the block of oak, and he stands before me. 

              "Have I woke you?" he asks. I shake my head.

            "I was already awake," and I won't be able to fall back asleep anyway. 

        "Your parents are very good friends of mine, and it is a promise of mine that I intend on keeping. Two days is what I will allow for you to have. Pack light, you won't be needing much," he says gruffly and lowly. His voice is calm and yet at the same time rough. The tone he uses is soft and it almost makes me want to go with him willingly. 

            His orbs traipse over my features. The green iris' are beautiful but dangerous, I remind myself. He captures the tattoos, the scar, my legs. Everything. The green meet my brown. 

        "Arminio, if my parents are such good friends of yours, then you should know me by now. I hate being ordered around, and you won't be able to make me do anything." 

       I shut the door, his eyes are shocked, while I offer a wink in return. 

YAY second chapter up, now for a behind the wheel. 

Literally cannot wait for my license. 

Anyway, 

THANKS for reading and hope you have a great day! 

I hope you enjoyed it!

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