The Devil's Bride

𝑂𝑛𝑒.

"𝐓𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞,

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭."

- 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, '𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲'

Tick. Tick.

The clock on top of the café's door is ticking like a timebomb. I glanced at my laptop's screen. 4:26 P.M. I took a sip of the chocolate frappe I ordered 30 minutes ago before flipping open my sketchbook. I picked up my pencil and began doodling while sitting with these two idiots whom I call my friends.

"She's going to paint whatever she draws in that little sketchbook on a whole ass canvas again." Ella says as she rolls her eyes.

Ella Rose, the woman that I somehow befriended 12 years ago, is looking at me up and down. Judging every single line that I drew on my book. I pretended not to hear her words. But then another familiar voice joins in.

"Leave her alone, Ellie. She's trying her best to make money here. The woman is living off of those paintings, that's got to say something." Lucas says with a smirk on his face.

Lucas Blackwood, the man that fell face flat on the ground in front of me in 9th grade, leaned forward to see what I was drawing.

"Shut up, Lucas. I'm only saying these things because I'm worried for Grace. She's 22 years old and she still doesn't have a proper job." Ella says, raising her voice a little while crossing her arms.

"Wow, I can't even defend my own friend without being attacked by this wild... creature." Lucas looks at her while squinting his eyes like he's trying to see something in her.
"I can see why you don't have a girlfriend, Lu." She glared at him like she was about to jump at him any moment now.

I sigh, putting down my pencil before looking at them.

"I do have a proper job." I told them, making sure to make my tone sound as annoyed as possible.

"Really?" The two speaks at the same time.

"Yes, I'm a painter, aren't I?" I smiled.

"Ah. A painter. Honestly, at this point... maybe, you should just become a stripper, Gray." Ella exhaled.

"Don't say that. A construction worker is a better option for our beautiful Miss Carson here." Lucas says sarcastically, holding in his laugh.

"I'm not going to sit here and deal with you two braindead. I'm going back to my apartment; I'll see you two around." I got up and started packing my things into the backpack I've been using for 2 years.

They both started laughing as I left. Annoying. I turned on my phone and opened Spotify. I tap the play button on one of my playlists.

Moonlight by Chase Atlantic started playing. I plugged the earphones into my ears, blocking all the chatter and noises on the streets.

As I was reading some text messages that were sent by Lucas and Ella on my phone while walking down the streets. I bumped into something. Hard. It was rock solid.

I stepped back a bit and looked up from my phone to see a familiar face looking down at me. My eyes widened. I know those eyes. Dark hair, blue eyes. Those eyes are as deep and dark as the abyss. Without a doubt. This man in front of me is Zayn. Zayn Archer. He's on the phone with someone too. I must admit he was still as gorgeous as I remembered. I quickly bowed and apologize, turning around quickly. Hoping he didn't recognize me. Zayn Archer, I can't see him. I don't want to see him. The man who became my first friend when I was eight. Also, the same arrogant man who uses money to solve every single one of his problems. I hate him. He's too optimistic. I slowly walked away, keeping my head down before a very, very familiar deep and heavy voice spoke up that made me stop in my tracks.