I feel the tension slowly seep out of her; this little vixen is constantly like a hornet's nest, suggesting that if one gets too close it will definitely sting.
But I feel that drain from her, maybe from tiredness or simply from finding ease on the bike. As she suggested, it seems like she’s accustomed to being on one. I assumed she’d only be another rich little party girl when I first moved in, but I’m coming to understand that there are many layers to this unusual woman.
Her clothes are all designer, and her nails and hair are perfect, even when she’s spiraling in a self-detonating way. After my brief encounter with her mother, I wonder if it has more to do with her than what Romi wants herself. Then again, she doesn’t seem like the type of woman to be told what to do.
I slow down near the lake, and no one else is around. My ideal type of place.
I cut the engine when we stop, and she removes the helmet, jumping off without so much as a thank you. She looks out at the large body of water, gravitating toward it, the silhouette of the moon shining over her. She looks perfect in my jacket.
I’m acting the part of a considerate roommate to gain her trust and further burrow myself into her life, and by default, my brother's. It all feels too easy, and I have to resist the urge to exploit the fragile state she’s currently in.
I want to watch her fall apart, curious to see how insane this woman can get, but there’s something else entirely uncomfortable beside it—a small part of me that considers perhaps I should do anything I can to avoid it. But I’ve never functioned like that. I only gain satisfaction from pushing people over the edge, never from pulling them back.
I swing my leg over the bike and remove my gloves, then set them on the seat and walk over to her. By the time I do, she’s removing her shoes and socks.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
She glares at me. “It’s called grounding yourself, asshole. Maybe you should try it sometime, and your head might magically fall out of your ass.”
My eyebrows only cut lower. “It’s called what?”
She rolls her eyes. “Grounding. You know, putting your feet on grass. It helps you center, to take a breath, etc., etc.”
“Oh, fuck me, are you one of those horoscope-reading, crystal-wearing girls?” I say, abhorred.
She scoffs. “Opposed to a mysterious doctor who walks out in the dead of night and returns with blood on his shirt that I sure as fuck know doesn't come from you being in a surgical room. ButI’mthe weird one?”
“I never said weird, but if I were going to give it a title, I’d say crazy.”
“Might be the truest thing that’s ever fallen from your shit-stirring lips.” She then begins unbuttoning her jeans.
“What the fuck? You’re not going to start chanting, are you?”
She shuffles out of her jeans. “Yeah, I actually waited for the perfect opportunity so I could start a séance and offer you to thedevil himself. Thanks for bringing me to a place where it’d be so easy to dispose of your body,” she says dryly, and my cock jumps at the mention of disposing of a body here. If only she knew the true, evil intention I had for this place.
“The devil has feared coming anywhere near me for a while, sweetheart,” I say with a cocky grin.
By the time her shirt comes off, and she’s only in her underwear, I'm licking my lips at the pink peaks of those perfectly pierced nipples. “You can’t seriously be considering going into the water. It’s fucking freezing out here. You’ll catch a cold.”
Surely, I don't have to explain the basics to this woman.
“And yet, he’s fearful of a little bit of cold water. Can’t be that scary.” She toys with a smirk as she drops her panties and throws them at my chest. I catch them as she steps toward the water, as if it’s the most natural thing to do in the frigid air.
I curse, ripping at my clothes. This is absolutely ridiculous, yet I follow her lead. The moment her toes touch the water, she’s cursing, but continues to step farther in.
By the time I’m naked, she’s already hip deep, still muttering her complaint.
The moon and stars sprinkle the sky as I make long strides through the ice-cold water. “This is fucking insane.” I'm surprised that for once I’m the one trying to rationalize behavior here.
“Stop being such a little pussy!” she yells.
Pussy? If she knew the things I was capable of, at minimum, the two men I killed tonight, she might not be so inclined to call me a fucking pussy.
She completely lowers herself into the water, biting and cursing until she leans back to float, arms spread wide.
I decide to get it over with and dive under the water, silently cursing her for forcing me to do something so mundane.
When I surface beside her, she looks over at me and begins laughing. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh. It’s as haunting as it is beautiful. It’s the first time I’ve seen this freer version of the woman floating before me.
