"Good morning little miss do-gooder," Adrian said. I was surprised to see him outside of my apartment door. "Nice place you got here," he said, stepping inside with me saying a word. How straightforword he was...
"Uh, hello? And, get out," I said, pushing him out of my apartment. "No one invited you in," I said, sticking out my tongue. "It's early," I said, pointing to my small alarm clock on the kitchen counter. It was only 4 AM. It had been an hour after I had gone to sleep. I had been too tired to stay up any longer.
"I can tell...you have bedhead," he said, and laughed. Adrian Ivashkov didn't smell like liquor now. Well, not as much. Myabe he finally took a bath or something.
"Well, not everyone can just wake up with magically styled hair," I grumbled. It was early, and I wanted to catch some sleep before I woke up and ate some waffles. Yes, that's right. Waffles. It was a breakfast comfort food for me.
"True, but I'm an Ivashkov, so, if you please, let me in," he said, and smiled sweetly.
"Don't try the sweet act," I said, but let him in anyway. My hair was an absolute mess and I couldn't have looked worse in my tank top with the flannel bottoms.
"But it worked," he said, trying to look sad. He plopped down onto my couch and yawned. "Cozy," he said, and closed his eyes. I would've slapped him then and there if he wasn't such an asset to me.
"You wake me up early and then you crash on my couch...what's the deal?" I asked, throwing a pillow at his him, which he took and placed gracefully behind his head.
"My parents kicked me out and you were the first person I thought of," he said and yawned. "You have any wine? Beer maybe? Some Vodka would be great..." he said, and yawned again.
"I don't drink," I said.
"You have cigars?" he asked, looking at me wistfully and hopefully. I glared.
"I'm going back to bed now," I said, and shook my head, trying not to laugh.
"Go ahead," he said, waving his hand and covering his eyes. "I need my beauty sleep," he muttered, and turned on his side.
I snorted and went back into my bedroom, lying down, staring at my wall. Adrian Ivashkov got kicked out of his house...and he thought of me. He thought of me. He thought of me. He thought of me.
"And how does that make you feel, Emma?" I whispered to myself. "I don't know," was my answer. I sighed. I would never understand how Adrian Ivashkov made me feel.
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"Morning, Ivashkov," I said, wacking him upside the head. "Breakfast is ready, now, since I let you crash here, I expect you to take me to Lissa," I said, turning up my nose. I sounded confident and determined rather than tired. I hadn't really slept.
"Can we do that later?" he asked, grabbing the plate of waffles in my hand and chomping down on them. "I'm still tired," he said.
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Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming [A Vampire Academy fanfiction]
FanfictionI do not own this. Most of the characters belong to Richelle Mead, author of the Vampire Academy series. Emma DiCamillo is a 16-year-old dhampir (half vampire, half human) who's a bit of a smart cookie and is trained to kill Strigoi (dangerous unde...