Chapter 14

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"Magic is a dream for children, a show for grown-ups, giving the illusion of enchantment that shines in your eyes but blows in the wind".

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11 h 10 -I woke up a little later than usual and I'm quite surprised I didn't take any sleeping pills last night. The pain must have been so great that it finally wore me out. My wound hurts like hell, I admit, but the bandage seems to be holding and the stitches are neat and precise, at least for me, who's not a surgeon.

I look out of the window and a light rain is falling. I really need a hot cup of coffee. I'm putting on a T-shirt when the sound of the doorbell makes me turn around. I walk over and open it slightly. Ian is standing there in his sports kit, his hair dripping wet.

— Why are you here? I say curtly.

— To ask you out for a drink, remember? I've got a date with you tonight. he hastens to throw in my face, smirking.

— Oh no, you don't. You're dreaming.

— Yesterday, you didn't have a problem showing off your body to the whole neighbourhood, half-naked, but going out with me is a huge pain in the ass, seriously?

He's making puppy-dog eyes at me. No, it's too much, I want to throw up.

— You didn't see anything. I growl.

I tried to slam the door in his face, but his foot got in the way.

— You were half-naked with a big bandage around your abdomen, and I think I even saw a wound on your arm. So, technically, yes, I saw almost everything. he says, purring.

I wasn't expecting this conversation, especially not before a cup of coffee, before 11 o'clock in the morning, and on top of all that, not with him. What a bloody good start to the day.I open the door a little more and turn to him.

— Well, yes. That's right! Happy now?! I thunder, my chest heaving rapidly.

—I'll see you later then?

— Don't get your hopes up.

He nods, and as he moves away from the door, a few drops fall on the floor. Ian turns his head in my direction and waves before walking away.

I close the door and head straight for the bathroom. I switch on my loudspeaker, which plays slow, dark, sensual music. It's time for a good shower, combined with the pain of the scalding water that rekindles my wounds. There's nothing like it to wake you up completely.

Now underwater, I wash my hair with shampoo and let my body soak in the shower, enjoying the sound of the water hitting the tiles and the feel of the wet drops against my skin. The smell of lavender, lemon and mint fills the room.

With the tap turned off, I dry my body with a large, fluffy towel. I shake my long brown hair dry. I run my hand through it several times to untangle as many knots as possible, because yes, I don't have a hairbrush, my fingers do the job just fine.

I return to my room, throw the wet towel on the mattress and open the cupboard, which reveals my small collection of clothes. A black leather jacket with a hood and zips, a white T-shirt.

Sitting on the bed, I slip on a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of black boots, a little detail that goes well with the top. The wound hurts when I bend over, and I notice that my forehead is still burning.

I grab my phone, look at the screen and the date. It's Saturday, and the last time I went out on a Saturday with a man was five years ago, on a blind date with Cassie and two other guys. As you can imagine, she forced me to go out with her. I cut the date short by spilling my drink on the face of the guy in front of me - 13 minutes was the most I could take before I gave up and left them in the lurch.

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