LIVING LEGEND [The Inheritance Games]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜 - 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝓈

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝓇𝓎                                                                             𝐼𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒷𝓎𝑒                         𝐼'𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒                                            𝒯𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃

505, Arctic Monkeys

I'm eighteen and the sunlight seeps through my eyelids and settles on my eyelashes. A coat is draped around my shoulders like a blanket, the deep charcoal fabric smelling musky and decadent.

Wasn't I wearing a trench coat? "Grayson," I mumble, sitting up. "What's this?"

He sits there, looking disgustingly perfect for how early it is, hair combed, eyes bright and is that a fresh suit? He's sipping coffee - black from the smell of it, and reading something on his phone. "A coat," he responds, not looking up from his phone.

"I can see that," I grumble. "Whose coat is it?"

"Mine." He replies, eyes not moving.

"Why is your coat around me?" I snap, sitting up.

"You were cold," he says. "And that skirt is rather short."

I look down at my crossed legs. In the position I was lying down in, it could as well have been a free show. "Thanks," I reply curtly, folding up the jacket to hand it back to him. "Where am I?"

"Just about to land in New Haven, Connecticut. I sincerely hope you aren't intoxicated, Miss Cosmino."

Him using my other last name hits me like a sack of bricks, and all of it comes rushing back as I take in the jet and small silver breakfast tray on the table between our seats. "I don't drink, Grayson." I groan as I pull on my boots and open my claw clip, rummaging through my bag for a comb.

"So you drowning that shot of bourbon at the funeral was just my imagination?" His eyes twinkle with a slight notion of... amusement?

I glare at him as I brush out my hair, now wavy again. "Why were you watching me?"

"Are we really focusing on the technicalities now, Miss Cosmino?" Grayson hands me a warm cup with a saucer.

"I don't drink coffee." I remind him, but take the cup all the same.

"You drink tea." He says, a hint of smugness on his face. "Irish whiskey cream tea, black."

I stare down at the cup. "You remembered."

"You'll find that my memory rarely faults me, Miss Cosmino." He responds, sitting up straighter, and sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"God, could you stop being so full of yourself for one second?" I whine, pulling my hair up again. "It's infuriating."

"I suppose there are worse things to be full on," He tips his head. "Like naivety."

I exhale. I will not take the bait. "Or a superiority complex." I spit back. Great job, Belladonna, just great

"Amusing." He says, with a small smirk.

"Yeah, I am." I spit back, a little exhausted of him already.