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soft-persephone · 2 months ago

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No Good For You: (After All This Time)

Avery (Laz Alonso) x Fem!Reader

MDNI // M // WC: 8.3k // warnings: lying, emotional abuse, phycological abuse, GASLIGHTING, mentions of blood, light violence // masterlist

AN:// Daniel Kaluuya is Louis Denton idk why. That’s who it is to me. And this is the closest to DDE I’ll ever be. Enjoy!

“Personal items in here.” You slowly put your stuff in the little plastic box.

“Seat four.” The guard looked at you funny, silently exposing how perplexed he was of your visit. The question and look everyone in your life gave you.

“How do you know this man?”

You stared for a moment. Frozen.

He was so big.

How? When?

Sure he was never short. He wasn’t scrawny either, but this large massive man who looked off into the distance with an anger-fueled disappointment, looking nothing like the boy with the prettiest brown eyes and most charming smile you’d known.

But the way he slumped in the seat and how his eyebrows furrowed across his head, that was a look you were familiar with.

You sat down, looking at his head. His hair was cut so low, but his curls wouldn’t look right on his head. Not now.

Something in your heart pulled, missing his boyish grin and too big for his head ears that matched.

In a way, he grew into the big head of his.

He grabbed the phone with a huff, barely looking at you. “Do I know you?”

You slowly held the plastic phone to your ear.

“Surprise.” You weakly croaked, your voice unexpectedly cracking, making you feel raw and exposed. It was supposed to be nice. Sort of. A little mockery of an almost fond but distant memory. An ode to the relationship you once had. He was behind a big thick glass, but the small rush of fear of messing up something in front of him still pulled at the strings of your entire being, threatening to send you into a frantic spiral.

He slammed his hand on the glass a little too harshly, making a guard shout, but he ignored it. His eyes grew wide, the pupils reflecting the light, starting to sparkle in the pools of dark brown that surrounded them. His eyebrows shot up and his bottom lip stuck out in an almost pout.

He said your name.

It was a plea, a prayer, a greeting, and a promise all wrapped into one.

You methodically placed your thumb in the glass where his palm resided. Fighting the itch under your skin, the crawling of your nerves and the lurch at your stomach, all the things that created a crashing wave of desire to touch him.

His hand pushed against the glass harder as if it would make it disappear, but his eyes were still on you studying your face, unaware of what his hand was doing and urging you to look at him.

But you couldn’t.

Not now.

It was too much.

Plus, you already had your look.

“A lot of people know you're here.” Was all you said. You lifted your finger, slowly tracing the outline of his hand, imagining the warmth of it.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m sure word traveled fast.” A confirmation of your warning.

His face started to revert to an expression you couldn’t read. It was a face that filled you with fear. A face that haunts your nightmares.

“I made a phone call for you.” You sucked in a shaky breath before letting it out.

He blinked repeatedly. His eyes flutter over your face.

“You didn’t have— thank you.”

You huffed.

Well, now you were the one who was stunned.

You examined how his face softened. How it pleaded with you, confided in you. His cool demeanor shifted to something of soft reverence, a casual devotion of. . . A fondness for you.

You wouldn’t call it love.

“I go to therapy.” You licked your lips. Starting to tell him what you really wanted to say.

You ignored his face. You never knew what was real with him if he meant it or if he was up to something. Because even in jail, and more vulnerable than he has been in his entire life, you’re sure he’d find a way to use you. To suck you dry for what’s worth of your life and carry around what’s left, owning you and leading you around like he did everything else.

Like I’ve done before.

You pushed away the evil little voice in your head that sounded too much like him. What once was a voice of your youth turning into a voice of a man you didn’t know that well, but the fear was the same. The underlying terror still raced through your veins.

You closed your eyes. Fighting it.

“I started to go for the nightmares.” You said it matter of factly. Your voice soft. You didn’t have to explain when. He knew it was sometime after.

“That’s good.” The warmth of his voice washed over you, deep, rich and comforting as always.

You absentmindedly licked your lips.

“I thought that was my only problem. That if I got to the bottom of those,” you looked him in the eye, but now it was him who was avoiding eye contact with you. His hand focused in yours. “But I-“ you stuttered. When had you comfortably placed your palm on the glass? When did you start to crave his affection?

“I was wrong.” You focused in his face, willing yourself to hold strong to what was real and not the world he was creating. The world he wanted to suck you back into.

Him.

“It’s you.” You said it softly like you loved him because maybe some part of you did, but that might not have been real, so you have to work hard to ignore those feelings, even if they overwhelmed every other sensation in your body, mind, and soul.

“Your voice stayed in the back of my head. The lying, gaslighting, and manipulating,” you paused, waiting for him to look at you, pleading him. Because you need to see his face when you say this. You need to. It was the whole point. The only reason you found the courage to come. “It almost broke me.”

“Your not broken.” He turned towards you slowly. His face taught and haughty. He was always taller than you, but now he looked larger than life. Like something you could never beat. “And I didn’t break you.” He leaned in.” His eyes cruel and leering.

“I tried to free you.” He spat, “because you liked it. You liked the blood, you liked the violence, you liked the money.”

You liked me.

He didn’t say it.

But you both knew he didn’t have to.

“Because it’s our blood?” You sneared at him. “Don’t start that bullshit with me. Not now. Not after all this time. I can make another phone call just as easy as I made the first one.” You threatened.

“You pick.”

He smiled, leaning back in his seat.

“Look at you,” he praised. “Guess something I taught you stuck.”

Your heart skipped a beat, almost rising in your throat. Your stomach fluttered but you just as equally started to feel sick, but neither physical reactions of protest stopped the rising heat in your body as he bit his lip as his warm words washed over you, filling you with a desire, however unwanted it may be.

“You really have changed.” He continued. His eyes scan over you as if he could confirm it, as if he could see every memory, thought, and day you’ve had without him until now. “But you haven’t changed in the way you think you have.”

“Sounds funny when you're the one stuck in here.”

“But I look so good on you,” he ignored you, his voice dropping into something low, filled with honey, decadent and rich, “everything you are.” He licked his lips, “is because of me. Yeah you went to therapy to deal with all that dark shit, but you don’t see all the good I caused you.”

“You d—“

“Let. Me. Finish.” His eyes seared with a heated anger.

You swallowed but otherwise not saying anything. Backing down, but refusing to cower in front of him.

He sat there. Silently watching you, waiting for you to break, but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

He let out a breath. As if he was happy you didn’t break. His face going back to something sweet and sticky with adoration.

“Look how you carry yourself, huh?” He waited for you to say something, but you only bit your lip. Your face was set in something neutral, but slightly apathetic.

You looked a little hollowed out, your eyes too big, and slightly tired, but the nightmares were the cause of that. They eluded you for so long, but with the news of him in jail, caused them to come back.

“You can come here, look at me while I’m on my knees and put your foot on my neck. You can smell anyone’s bullshit from a mile away and you got more money than anyone else, at whatever fuck as job you ended up in.”

You ignored him, thining your lips.

“You can handle buisness because of me, take care of yourself because of me. . . He put his forhead in the glass with a sigh, “and now, you’re the one taking care of me.”

“I think it’s time for me to go.”

A lie.

You both new that if it was a revisit visit, you’d have been gone ages ago.

But you did your part, and you said your piece.

But it was far from over.

You left before you could regret it.

Your crossed your arms with a shiver.

You wore a skirt and a sweater. It was good enough when the sun was up, but you did not expect it to get this cold once the sun started going down, and you did not know you were going to be outside at this hour.

You huffed. The white cloud of your breath made you feel worse. A slow shred of panic started to rise underneath your skin.

The email told you to come at this building at 6:30 and here you were. For some reason the door was locked.

Who does that? Who makes a meeting at a closed building? And when you called the number on the application, nothing.

A guy was walking towards you. A key in hand.

Is this a dorm?

You’ve never been on this side of campus, so you don’t really know. However, you didn’t particularly care at this moment either.

He was so pretty. His short curly hair looked so soft. He was tall, brown skin, there was barely any light around, but somehow his eyes seemed to sparkle. He grinned at you, drawing your attention towards his lips. Thick and so soft. You also wanted to touch them and for them to touch you.

“Hi.” His mouth twisted into a cheerful smirk.

“Hey.” You said small giving a polite smile, before looking back and forth.

For some reason that made the stranger laugh.

“Are you not here for the job?”

“Wha?” You turned back towards him in suprise. “Sorry,” you cringed at the situation, but also your self, “I just thought you were some guy.”

“Some guy,” he scoffed with a smile, brushing his own shoulder, “well I thought I looked fly this morning. I guess I’ll dress to impress next time.”

“My bad. I’m just cold.”

“Some way to treat the man responsible for getting you the job you so desperately need. A guy willing to help you out of the kindness of his heart.” He ignored you, unlocking the door.

You huffed in relief after following him inside.

The dorm room common area was warm. The tips of your fingers tingle a little too harshly as they warm up.

You paused with a thought.

“What makes you think I’m so desperate for this job?”

“Look at you,” he waved his hands downward at you, “look at the weather? You could have emailed and we could have rescheduled.”

“It’s not my fault you scheduled this meeting at a building that locks it doors after five and your,” you looked at your watch, “five minuets late.”

“But you were what, 15 minuets early?” The change in his tone was off putting. Like he was mocking you somehow, but his smile and demeanor held no other evidence.

He took a step towards you, and you took one back to keep the distance, but he only took another step, crowding your space, lowering his face only a few inches above yours.

“You were 15 minutes early, not accounting for the walk here. I was late, and you still stayed. And its freezing cold outside.”

“Can we start the interview?”

“In Progress.” he turned on his heels.

You followed, pursing your lips.

“That's my roommate over there. Don't mind him.

He led you to his room. Something in the back of your brain was screaming at you. The whole thing starting to feel wrong.

He plopped down at the seat of the shared desk in the room.

You looked over to his roommate in a chair in the corner. He gave you a small nod and a wave, going back to whatever he was doing.

He didn’t seem all that comfortable in the little chair. His bed was flat against the wall and the space it normally lay on, held a white sheet on the wall, with a camera in front of it.

“You bring the stuff?”

You brought your backpack around from your shoulder to your front. Pulling Out your license, social security card and all the usual askings from a job. He scanned each one, sending it form the printer to the computer and stored the files away. You casually looked around as he documented each one.

On the desk were blank plastic cards, some had words, some didn’t. Various sets of different states were on them with different places for a photo, a stack of little blue squares were next to it blank in the center where a ssn would go.

The makeshift photo set up started to make a little more sense.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled and not from the cold.

You turned toward him with your mouth open, but you stopped. What would say? What could you say?

“Here,” he interrupted you from your spiraling thoughts, handing you back your papers, “don’t touch anything.” He chided after.

He didn’t seem to notice your reaction, or maybe he didn’t care, more concerned with you leaving it all alone.

You put your papers back in your bag, thinning your lips to hide your dismay.

“When do I start? Where will I be working?”

This got you a winning smile. Why? You remained unsure.

“Give me your phone.”

You handed it over with a huff.

“There,” he handed it back to you, “you have my number. When I call, answer, and we’ll get started. After that, we take it from there.”

“This isn’t professional on any level.” It was a statement.

“Look, we all have our side hustles,” he gestured around the room, “but that has nothing to do with this work study program, aight?”

You nodded.

“I guess, I’ll wait for that call then.” You put your bag on your shoulder, ready to walk out the door.”

“Uh-uh,” he stood, putting his hands in your shoulder to stop you, “where are you going?”

“Home.” You squinted in confusion.

“Not like that, you're not.” He walked over to his roommate's closet and pulled out a hoodie and some sweatpants, throwing them at you, “here, put these on.”

You held them with a frown.

“But these aren’t yours.” You complained, “these belong to—“

“Maurice doesn’t mind sharing.”

You looked over to Maurice for reassurance that it was okay. He slowly nodded. His mouth opened to say something but after quickly looking at his roommate, he stopped.

You huffed with disapproval as you pulled the pants on over your skirt. And quickly shimmied into the hoodie.

The instantaneous sensation of warmth dissuaded any thoughts of doubt in your mind.

Maurice wasn’t as tall as his roommate, so they weren’t ridiculously baggy on you. That made you feel a little better. You quickly walked around. Peering into different corners and nooks of the room.

Thinking you were just being nosey, He put his hands on your shoulders, gently but firmly ushering you out the room.

“I was looking for a mirror.” You smacked your teeth and defended yourself.

He took your back pack and slung it on his shoulder. You didn’t necessarily let it go, so it wasn’t an easy process, but he more than forcefully tugged it out your hands, standing up straight. There was no other opportunity for you to snatch it back as he stood over you.

“What are you doing?” You groaned, at your breaking point.

“I’m walking you to your dorm. It’s dark outside and it’s a long walk.”

You blinked.

“Lead the way.” He ordered, and you reluctantly obeyed.

The walk wasn’t so bad.

You could gratefully cross your arms as you walked. Shielding yourself as much as you can from your new. . . Boss, you suppose he is now. A stranger in a new budding professional relationship he was ruining at every turn. He walked too closely to you, refusing to start a walking pace faster or slower than yours, if you sped up, he sped up, if you slowed down, he slowed down when you needed to stop and tie your shoe, he patiently waited for you to finish without complaint.

Despite his amicable walking behavior, you wish conversation with him was just as easy.

“I’m Avery,” he introduced, “by the way.” He quickly added after when you only nodded.

“I know what your name is. It was on the application and on the job board with the phone number, it’s in your email, and you told me on the phone call for what’s supposed to be an interview.”

“But you hadn’t said it.” His tone accusatory, making the air feel all that colder.

“Maybe if you set clearer professional boundaries, then you wouldn’t have to be doing this now.” You shrugged.

“I was going to introduce myself.” His voice was clipped and even, but it didn’t hide the scowl that almost appeared on his face “but you interrupted me.”

“I really didn’t.” You laughed, more out of a sick amusement for striking a nerve with him. Glad to be getting on his nerves as much as he had been getting on yours.

“I was,” he stepped in front of you, not letting this go, “I said Hi, and I was going to do the whole dance,” he held up a finger, “I’m Avery with the student ran work study program,” he held up another finger, “you were going to introduce yourself, and everything would have went like normal.” Saying his side and apparently satisfied he turned on his heels and started walking.

You rolled your eyes and followed him.

“But it’s your fault it didn’t go that way.” He blamed, apparently not done.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now.”

“Of course it’s your fault,” he said it casually, almost a little too matter of fact for your liking, “instead I saw you were freezing cold and had to get you inside as soon as possible. . . It threw me off”

“Well I’m sorry for ruining a standard interview procedure by patiently freeezinf my ass off and expecting you to show up on time.”

“You should be.”

With more persuasion then what should of been needed, you sent him away. Insisting you didn’t need anyone to walk you to your actual dorm room. That if you somehow died from the front door to your own door, he could watch it on the news with everyone else.

Later on, he called and you answered.

You picked the time and place, this time around.

The common area in the library, at 11:00 you originally instead on an earlier time, but Avery likes to argue over everything. You settled for 11:00 just to get him to shut up.

“Some meeting place this is.” He had a paper cup in his hand, shaking it to get your attention. A few people turned towards him with frowns and glares, but he didn’t pay them any attention.

“Will you lower your voice,” you smacked his hand that held the cup to your ear away, keeping your voice low, “this is a library.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“For somone who complained about meeting earlier, you look wide awake and well rested to me. You don’t look like someone who just woke up and hates mornings.”

“Who said I hated waking up early?” . He took a seat next to you, “I just have things I need to do early in the morning. Things that I don’t cancel for anyone.”

“Fine.” Was all you said in response to that, not really caring.

“So let’s get straight to business,” he pulled up his back pack into his lap, pulling out a neat crisp envelope, “this is yours,” he started to explain.

You opened the envelope, taking a peek at it as he talked to you.

“So, I don’t have anything for you as soon as expected, so it’s gonna be a little while,” he explained further.

It was $500.

You swallowed, deciding to listen to him, unsure of how to react, but the relief that washed over you was there. You could finally get your books without figuring out how to pay for them. All of them. All at one time. . That way what money you did have could go to whatever else you may need without worry.

“So here’s a, down payment or a type of deposit, to hold you over, until I can get you a real job,” he explained further.

He looked better in the daytime. His hair looking even softer. His face glowy, but you still couldn’t get over his eyes. You were equally enamored with the way his mouth moved as he tslked, but what came out of it annoyed you too many times to count, ruining your infatuation with them, but you’d happily settle for looking into his eyes as he talked.

“So is that enough?” His eyes were on you as he talked, but they also darted to some random kid who zoomed by on a skateboard. You weren’t as shocked because you were always here and that guy did that at this firm of day.

If someone talked too loud or moved to closely, his eyes would absentmindedly follow them.

“Yeah it’s enough to buy my books with, so I’m too worried about the rest of the it later. I’m good with any job.”

He stopped talking after you responded. His eyes lock with yours. The casual mirth in his eyes seemed to dim into something serious that didn’t match his smile.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?”

You scrunched your face in confusion, but otherwise, you didn’t look away.

“Like what? What are you talking about?”

He looked aghast, almost offended. But he didn’t say anything about how he felt, licking his lips before pulling another semi-serious face.

“I’m looking you in the eye because that’s how conversations work? People tend to make eye contact with whoever’s speaking with them.” You waved your hands up as you explained, thoroughly confused by his confrontational energy.

He huffed. Not responding, he pulled another envelope out his bag and handed it to you.

“You need more than just book money.”

He stood up, fully frowning, but refusing to look at you.

“Just wait for me to give you another call. Aight?”

And he left, not waiting for your reply.

You looked into the envelope. $800.

What the fuck were you going to do with $800? Why is he just handing you so much cash?

You put both of them in your bag with a huff.

As irritating as he was, he was considerate. You hoped this wasn’t the money he had been paid to run this program. Something in you just knows how he doesn’t feel to nice about debts and people that owe him anything.

The last thing you ever wanted to do was owe Avery anything.

You got another call about another way too late meeting.

7pm.

You were irritated, but you showed up.

“There she is.”

Avery was wearing a suit, or maybe it was tux, or maybe, a fancier suit.

It was hard to tell.

Whatever it was, he looked nice.

You were back in his and Maurice’s dorm room

“Here,” he wasted no time. he handed you a stuffed garment bsg, “put one of these on. I got a lot of different sized, so one should fit.”

“I’m working now?!”

“The early bird gets the worm, right?”

“It’s not early.” You muttered.

You looked around before opening you mouth, but before you cousin ask he was already pointing, bathrooom’s inside. That corner over there.”

You gave him a tight lipped nod. More out of being shocked and confused than irritated, usually because of him. An occurrence you were both used to at this point.”

Dim light aside, the bathroom was fine. Not the disaster you feared it would be.

Freakishly annoying behavior aside, Avery was neat.

The dress was black, very simple, but you wore it well. It looked fancier on you.

“This one fits.” You moved to put on the heels he told you to bring.

“Wait wait wait wait,” he stopped you, “that one fits perfect, but you need to size down one. It’ll look even better.”

You stood up straight. “What kind of job is this again?”

“Easy,” he held up his hands, “it’s not my call okay. I just know you need to size down.”

You sighed, going back in the bathroom.

It was too tight. You didn’t like it. It exposed to much, it threatened to roll up your thighs, but you tested it, taking a few steps back and forth. Your breast felt too smushed together and kind of hurt.

But what really upset you was the exposed panty lines.

You’d have to take them off. . . And you don’t want to, but you had to.

So you stalked, pacing around in the bathroom for no reason.

With one final sigh, you opened the door.

“Can you hand me my bag real quick?”

“Why? Just put the dress in and come out.”

“Hand me my bag! Just throw it over!”

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up! If you have it on, just get out the bathroom and put the damn shoes on!”

“Hand! Me! My! Bag!”

He smacked his lips.

Scowling, he threw your bag towards you.

“You’re an asshole.” You said sweetly before closing the door.

You walked out.

“That was fast.”

“I never said it would take long. I just said hand me my bag and you made a big fucking deal out of it, so,” you ended the sentence open endedly, putting on your shoes with one hand.

He paused for a moment, looking at you.

“You changed your hair.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, attempting to hide the pout on his face.

You averted your gaze, blinking a few times to hide how fat you looked away from him.

“I wanted to. I like looking nice.” You attempted to sound stern, to say it with some sor of attitude but you lost it half way, more thrown off by his sudden change in mood.

“Let’s go.” He gestured toward the door with his head, grabbing your coat for you to put your arms through.

He led you to a car already waiting for you both outside.

There was a man in the car, making your freeze, but Avery paid you nomind, forcefully pushing you forward into the car.

“Im Louis Denton, nice to meet you.” he politely introduced himself, holding out a hand for you to shake.

You took his hand reluctantly, but not too much so, you didn;t want to be too rude. His demeanor not holding any alterior motives from what you could sunrise off of an initial meeting.

“I’m sure you have more than afew questions, but i’d be more than happy to answer them before you get started on your job tonight.”

They were brothers, not by blood, but that didn;t stop them from being so close.

Louis was very obviously so not like Avery. He was. . .calm, even headed. You assumed he was the type of guy who never raised his voice, not even if he was angry. Something about him and the way he explained everything, persuaded you to stay.

He was darker, his undertones cooler. Much Shorter, and less athletically built, but he had a presence about him. He carried himself just as highly, but he was cooler about it. He didn’t run as hot.

You still weren’t happy about it, but you stayed.

“So this is your new boyfriend.” he handed you the photo. You thumbed over it, now uneasy about it all over again. It all felt too real too soon.

“Look,” Louis, leveled with you, “ we aren't expecting you to sleep with this guy, but if it gets to that point, I promise you we’ll be there to stop him. We won’t let him do anything to you that you don't want to do. That’s not what we need your help with.”

“But you still need to show him a good time.” Avery interrupted. “He needs to believe that you want this and you’re into him or everything falls a part.”

“She seems like a smart and capable girl. She can figure that part out on her own.”

Avery glared at his bother, but ultimately relented, letting it go.

You took your coat off, the car hot.

“I just have to get him to this hotel?” you flipped through the papers that held the address.

“And this hotel room, the person at the desk already knows what’s up, so you just have to pretend to get the room.”

You nodded biting your lip.

“You’ll be fine.” Avery attempted to comfort you, but something about it seemed off and distant. His tone sounding a little too harshly. “This guy already likes you. You're his type. Your looks do half of the work for you, and you have some things in common with him, so try to hone in on what those are, and everything after that should come naturally to you.”

The car stopped.

Not wanting to drag this out any longer, you made to leave out of the car. Avery grabbed your arm pulling you back.

“Leave your coat.”

“Leave my coat? No!” you jerk your arm back towards yourself. “Why would I leave my coat?! Its fucking freezing outside!”

He looked to the ceiling, rolling his eyes so dramatically, you had the fight to fight the urge to slap him while his guard was down.

“Will you please, do as I say for once without arguing with me?” He pleaded, earnest.

‘I just want to know why it's so important I leave my coat!” you yelled continuing to argue because being vague doesn’t do anything to deter you to do what he says.

“Being cold makes you cuter!” He yelled, “It’ll make this guy fall for you even faster!”

You blinked. Stunned.

‘You make” you started lowly, his words confusing you to the very core of your being, “no fucking sense.”

He scowled, about to say another thing, probably something stupid too, but you interrupted him.

‘You never make sense, and its so fucking annoying. I’m so tired of all your fucking mood swings, your weird attitude, your lies, “ you went on and on, at some point you don’t even know what’s coming out of your mouth. Just everything he’s put you through and made you feel comes out. The euphoria of it overwhelms you, consumes you. In your sudden fervor of frustration, anguish, and nerves until it’s all out and your were huffing with the exertion of it, “I'm so sick of all of it.”

His nostrils flared, his face pulled taut into anger. He twisted his mout open, ready to unleash some form of hell onto you, most likey to say something even stupider than he has the entire night so far, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Hey,” Louis said your name in an even tone, causing you both to turn toward him, “leave the coat.”

Your face fell, almost in to a pout,

Frowning, you exited the car into cold.

This guy wasn’t so bad. The stranger you needed to lure in somewhere for some reason.

He had tan brown skin and a kind smile. It didn't go with his striking face and jet black hair. Thick as it fawned accorss his face onto his shoulders in a wavy raven halo.

He was even nice to be around.

“Your’re even cute in person!” he popped in font of you with a grin from ear to ear.

“Where’s your coat?” he laughed, the sound of it reverberating around in your brain. The echoes of it resounded like the aftershocks of a bell, ringing in your mind.

“I was too excited to meet you. I accidently left it at home.”

“Well, we need to fix that.” he held out his arm, waiting for you,” you stood, almost forgetting what you were here to do. You wrapped your arm inhis, letting him lead you to his car.

“We can get you a coat, and so much more!” He mused, looking down at you, “let’s have some fun.”

It took you a while to figure out that this guy likes to impress girls with money. That maybe his one and only move had been buying things, showing off shiny fancy things and cars, and going places. You've, declined his offer, for five separate spontaneous vacations in the first hour of meeting him, convinced he’ll change your mind, and at some point you'll either end the night or start an entirely different day in another country.

“You picked out a long baby blue pea coat. The cut of the coat was unique and the color made you happy. The warmth it provided made you even happier. 100% wool, Mr rich stranger insisted.

He’s told you his name, but you keep forgetting.

You stopped to look at something in the window for one second. No longer and no less.

The sparkle of some random diamond twinkled in your eye.

“Did you want those? What is it?” is was like he had sixth sense for when you wanted something.

“Oh, nothing, I–”

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