Demons of Slavery

Chapter Two

Chapter Two
Dance A Deal Away?

I decided to stay in the next day. It felt too much of a hassle to go out and interact with the world. The fake, pretentious world. I felt like there were days for that sort of thing. I spent half of my morning in the inbuilt gym, trying to outrun my problems, not that it ever worked or anything.

After the gym I took a shower and passed by the kitchen to grab an apple before I visited the music room to spend time with my demons. The intercom system however rang when I was still in the kitchen.

“Yes Billy?” I answered, distracted.

“Good morning Miss Nelly, that gentleman from yesterday is  back again. He is asking for permission to enter.” Billy said and immediately I was thrown into a very different variant of nerves to that I was used to. Even though I had just taken a shower, I sniffed my armpits and nodded to myself. I smelt good, hopefully I had an appearance to match. Sweats were my to go dress code. I never looked like I tried too hard, even if I did. They lent me a look of nonchalance that we all need at one point in life.

I cleared my throat. “Okay send him in Billy,” I spoke into the intercom and disconnected. I searched the coffee table in the living room for dirt or disorder, just in case the maid who visited on stipulated days of the week had forgone something.

I listened for his voice, his car, his footsteps, anything really to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I had never felt butterflies before. Not since I was ten and had had a crush on the smartest boy in our class. He had so much drip.
I waited with abated breath for him to finally show himself. The front door opened, and finally, finally I heard something. Just not what I was anticipating.

Kid didn’t seem too happy to receive my guest. But I had received his guest gracefully. I even gave her food!

I ran out of the living room in record time. That damned Labrador was not going to potentially kill my potential crush on my front door. No way, I was not about to become a spinster, not with a man like that practically coming to my doorway.

“Kid! Stay! Bad dog! Bad dog!” I began passionately and whilst it was not a good first impression—since we were practically starting anew as he had suggested—I was passionately saving his life.

After the crush killing Labrador was neutralized, I set my eyes on my crush. He looked good. He looked fine. He looked a bit unwell.

“Who are you?” I asked him as soon as my eyes had gotten their fill of him. That had been the question that had been plaguing my mind the entire time since the previous day. He looked amused.

He was standing against his Ford Ranger and looking like he was straight out of a magazine. Not that I was complaining, the view was rather nice.

“Gone philosophical have we?” He asked, his voice a bit cheeky and a smirk on his lips. I was distracted  and I willed myself to focus.

“No, I’m serious. You knew exactly who had picked your pocket, showed up with government authorization, took all the right steps dealing with my meltdown. I just can’t help but wonder, who are you?” I said and he pretended to be dramatically thoughtful for a moment. It was adorable.

“Have we met before? You talk like we have.” He said finally, a cheeky smirk on his lips and I was exasperated. What a man child.

“You talk like you want to be kicked off my property,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He raised his hands in alarm and in mock fear.
“I’m not asking for trouble.”

“Could have fooled me,” I countered. He chuckled. I died. I had two words for my deity, Not Fair. 
How come the fair sex—me!—sounded like a pig when I laughed, and he sounded like a goddamn cherubim?