regicide ; matt daddario [ ON HOLD ]

&.* / she'll eat you alive.

10:02 pm.

two minutes longer than she wanted to spend with the male standing across from her. of course, she could only blame herself for going on that tear jerking travesty of a date. yet, as the puppy eyed boy continued to gaze down at her with the most hopeful look, she couldn't help but to lean on her toes, lips leaving a red mark on a stubbly cheek. the connection the two once shared had sizzled out in the span of a couple dates. they'd been together since 7pm, and really, every single second of that sizzled on. 

perhaps she should've spent time with him sans the beer goggles sooner. after all, genevieve was famous for two things. one of them was going on a wild alcoholic rampage for days at a time and latching onto the first lucky human with a dick and a nice smile. she'd be terribly interested for that short period of utter euphoria, but twice as bored with them once she finally sobered up. and that she had, leaving her date for the night shit out of luck. after the duo parts ways, he'll be greeted with a text full of insincere apologies from the blonde. soon, a slot in her infamous rotation would open, meaning hunting season for any male with a glimmer of hope for finding themselves in her company; her other infamous little hobby. and for some ever so strange reason, guys continued to weave their way in and out of the cycle, entering with the determination to break her and leaving with their heart in their hands. you'd think word of her reputation got around after the first couple, and it sure had, yet they never stopped flowing in. 

"you're a sweet boy, d. don't let anyone take that away from you, yeah?" with those parting words, the vixen digs through a designer clutch she'd bought out of momentary want and was unlikely to touch ever again, pulling out a keychain that clattered with its every movement. in a swift action, the door is opened and shut once again, the dates finding themselves on opposite sides of the wooden barrier. a sigh of relief sounding, grateful to escape the awkward atmosphere of the event as gen slipped the 7 inches of torture off her feet. 

"another one bit the dust?" a low voice booms from a little ways down the capricious hallway of her apartment, and she makes her way down it to the den, heels in hand, feet aching.

"tragically." she replies in the most casual of tones, not a single lilt of regret feeling her sugary sweet voice; other than that of even making the mistake of giving the boy a chance, of course. her shoes are quickly dropped near the fur carpet, a careless figure dropping itself down beside the companion, finding comfort in the velvety furniture. 

the voice belonged to that of genevieve's best friend and closest confidant, holden rothschild, a boy with bright blue eyes that always held a hint of pain and a shit ton of money. the two had met in private school on the first day, and argued over the wealth of their families, only to end up sitting at lunch together hours later to discuss how much better they were than all of the other private school kids. for the dynamic duo, they oozed arrogance and really did manage to use their money to their every advantage. really, gen scoffs at anyone who claims money isn't equivalent to happiness. 

"you know, i was terribly wrong for saying i was done with frat boys. i mean, they're not much better than the nice losers i've been messing around with lately, but at least they've got the money to spend." a scoff sounds from the male sitting with her, his reply coming out through a mouth full of fruit. he disapproved of the girl's shallow tendencies and egotistic acts of using men for her own prideful pleasures, shook his head at the idea of her wicked games. any other male would've cowered in her wake, left a hole in her wall at the discovery of her antics, but he stuck around; if only because he had been at her side ages before the age of brutal slaughter of the hearts began.

in fact, ever since that glorious day in pre-school, they'd been there for each other. through pregnancy scares (for both of them), broken limbs and broken hearts, their arms were each other's safe havens. in a city where the lights shined bright but the diamonds on a gold digger's neck shined brighter, it was often hard to distinguish who was there for a genuine bond and who was there for the simply glitz and glamor of their lifestyles. holden was one of the few people genevieve never had to worry would turn around and stab her in the back. he was her anchor, and she was his. besides holden, genevieve only had one other girl she truly considered a friend, a feisty ginger with fiery eyes and a kind heart.