𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✔️

♡ Chapter 4 ♡

I stand along the side of the road, waiting for the taxi that I called. My heels are covered in mud, and my bottom lip goes outward knowing I'll have to throw them in the garbage.

I groan to myself as the taxi feels like it's taking forever. I check my phone again to make sure it's coming, and once I see that it's on its way, I turn my phone off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Nic spits at me.

I turn around, and the second I see him, I roll my eyes.

"You're like a fucking cat with nine lives," I complain.

He's soaking wet. His white shirt hugs onto his muscles and his black hair sticks against his forehead. Shit, there was water at the bottom. 

"I don't like you, either. But we need each other to kill Hades," he spoke sternly, the water dripping off of his body hitting my feet. "So you can't keep trying to fucking kill me every time I piss you off."

Not only will I need to convince him that I'll love him, but I'll also have to convince him that I'll help him kill Hades, without making him ever question it. 

"Fine," I say dryly. 

Headlights from my taxi shine onto us as the car squeaks to a stop beside me. 

"I guess I'm sorry for pushing you off of the cliff," I say, which makes him roll his eyes.

"Three failed attempts now."

I can't hear. I turn and get into the taxi, shutting my door loudly. Nic continues to stand there, dripping wet, as the car starts to drive off.

And as I leave, I stick my middle finger at him. 

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

July 4th.

"Good job, Celeste!" I praise myself as I finish making a sandwich. I always ordered food, so even making myself a sandwich for lunch is pretty out of character. 

The bar is really on the floor for myself. 

I reach up, standing on my tip-toes, and grab a plate from the top shelf. As my fingers graze the plate, the voice of the man I hate most whispers in my ear, "Morning, Dobrev."

"The fuck?!" I turn around, pressing my back against the counter behind me.

Nic stands there. Black pants, black shirt. Slapable goddamn face.

"Can't you use the doorbell like a normal fucking person?" I brushed passed him, hitting my shoulder against his arm.

I set my sandwich onto the plate on my kitchen island, while Nic rounds it and sits on a stool across from me while I stand. I lean forward on my elbows and begin eating my sandwich. 

I look at my nails as I'm eating and roll my brown eyes. I broke two of them yesterday, I need to go and get them re-done later.

"Not going to even make one for your husband?" he nearly spoke in a teasing tone, but I guess that would be too much for his emotionless brain to handle.

I pause, holding the last bite of the sandwich in my mouth while staring at him. I swallow it and force a wide smile, "Of course."

"No onion," he says smugly as I start to make his sandwich. 

I roll my eyes to myself. While making it with my back turned to him, I ask, "So why the hell don't you call me before coming so I don't have a heart attack every time I come downstairs?"