The Blossom of Rose

4 • Soft

After talking with Ashton Dimeve, it's two weeks too late but I've had a busy schedule, he didn't flip out about the drugs and he assured me that his loyalties lay with us. The bell of the cafe door tingles as he walks out.

I make patterns in the sugar I poured on the table of the cosy cafe when the seat in front of me gets taken. My entire body tenses and my blood runs cold. I don't even need to look up to know who it is.

"Angel." His voice sends a chill down my spine and I go to stand but his cold hand is placed over my arm, stopping me. "Don't cause a scene, just sit down," he says lowly and I look to see his brown eyes sinister yet soft.

Nothing. No romantic feelings like I previously had. Instead, his touch is cold and menacing in a way that makes me want to hide in a ball or push him off a cliff.

I sit. And gather the strength to look at him. I need to show him that I'm not that scared little girl anymore. I know and have accepted what he did to me, it's just hard to let go sometimes because we did have good memories together. But the bad always out-rule the good.

His dark hair is messy, as I remember, and his long eyelashes cast shadows over the dark eyes I once fawned over. He has a complexion of the natural fair Spanish skin tone and no facial hair accompanying his sculpted cheekbones. The thing I previously thought was the most attractive thing about him.

This meeting was inevitable. I've been back a week, I'm surprised I hadn't seen him earlier. I keep my face clear of any emotion and raise my eyebrow. I'm not wasting any unnecessary breath on him.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember." He slumps back in the booth and there's a hint of mischief in his tone. I scoff to myself at his attempt at sweet-talking me. I don't even remember the last time he called me that, his slurs block out all his compliments to me.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Samuel?" I spat, annoyed at him for even showing his face. He can't just stroll in here and start a conversation with me after he told me that everyone would be happier if I killed myself.

Samuel beckons over a waitress to our booth and I'm too busy scratching at my wrist to notice her. When she arrives, she excessively leans over the table and eyes him, seductively. Trust me, love. You want to stay away from this one if you want your sanity. "Two Pina Coladas please," he smirks up at her and she doesn't even spare me a glance before sauntering off, purposefully swaying her hips.

He refocuses his attention on me and I raise my eyebrow at him. "What? You're not my girlfriend anymore," his words don't sting as I expected them to.

"Like that ever stopped you in the first place," I retort and stare straight at him. "Not this bullshit again," he sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, "can't we just forget everything?"

"You must be joking," I scoff in disbelief and my hands ball into fists at his words. "You pulled my skirt up in front of everyone. My family was there. Your family was there too. How do you expect me to forget that?"

"I was drunk." He nonchalantly states and my blood boils at his words.

"That's not a fucking excuse, Samuel. Not when you used it for every single one of your fuck ups." I exasperate and quickly search my surroundings because the volume of my voice raised a little.

"I've already mentioned before that I'm sorry and I even-"

"Your apologies never meant anything to me because you always found another way to hurt me," I cut him off because I know he'll find another ridiculous excuse to justify himself. He glares out the window and the same waitress arrives and places the drinks down. She lingers for a while before he waves his hand at her and mumbles, "fuck off."