CHANCE | ✔

8| Callista

Be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice. Be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them. 
— Laurell K. Hamilton 

Apodyopsis 
(n.) the act of mentally undressing someone 

Monday — September 4, 2023 

"I knew you'd come through." 

A crooked smirk hangs on his lips as he drinks in my appearance once I've made it out the gates of my house. I raise an eyebrow at the lack of subtlety, earning an unaffected shrug in return. 

I had half-expected Hazel to assign a hired driver to pick me up — because these people seem to believe dollar bills were all anyone needed in life. I mentally reprimand myself for thinking that because some part of me is a part of these people. 

I give Drake a once over, eyes lingering unconsciously on the metal rings adorning his hands, — that are now out of his pockets and raking through his tousled blonde hair — glinting softly under the fading sky. 

His fingers flex and I lift my eyes to meet his gaze, realizing I've been caught staring. He directs a wolfish grin at me. 

"Thinking about how these would look inside y—" 

"Oh my god! Valentino, shut up!" I shout, kicking gravel onto the metal of his shining Maserati, cutting off his maddeningly vulgar question. Let it leave a scratch, perhaps even a dent. 

The lack of condescension in his tone is the only reason I don't land a blow to his jaw. 

He eyes the stones I've launched at his car. 

"So, Hazel stuck you with the tedious task of picking me up?" I ask, "I have to admit, I seriously thought she was bluffing. You all would find it hilarious, wouldn't you, picking on the new girl?" 

"Maybe, maybe not," he answers vaguely. 

"She trusted you enough to come here?" I say with a small smirk. "Given the way she was draped over you this afternoon, I would've guessed she wouldn't let you out of her sight like a damn cavewoman." 

Pearly white teeth flash in a grin again. That seems to be his reply to almost every question or statement, and for some reason, I don't think I mind them. I almost like the way the grins break out. 

"Jealousy looks adorable on you, love." 

"What the f— I am not jealous!" I exclaim sharply, my voice a little too defensive for my liking. The words don't seem to have any effect on his train of thoughts, though. 

"I volunteered, actually." 

"Oh?" No way he did. 

"Supposed it would be nice to get a glance at the property; the entries and exits. Might be useful when you decide to text me to come over in the middle of the—" 

I push past him and walk around the car to the other side, yanking open the door and throwing myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut to block out the rest of his words. 

He lets out a laugh, the sound not traveling through the closed space, before pulling open his own door and settling himself before the wheel. 

"With the number of times you've expressed your desire to get me into your bed, should I be concerned about sharing such close quarters with you?" I ask, strapping on the seatbelt with a click.