English Accent (The Accents #1)

Do your thing

"For the hundredth time, Sierra, I don't want any mascara!" I yelled from the bathroom, where I was currently brushing my hair. "And If you ask me it one more time, I'm going to take it, and shove it up your ass!"

I clenched the brush's handle tighter when I heard her giggle under the door. Her favorite thing to do during the last half an hour was laughing at me and my pitiful attempts to make myself look presentable. I had no intention in dressing myself up like a diva, but I wanted to look decent. The stupid party was the celebration of the first day of my freedom, after all.

I gave up when the brush tangled at the fiftieth knot in a row and threw the damn thing into the sink. Glancing into the mirror once more, I gave myself a thumbs-up. I had zero makeup on since I owned no face-liniments (shame on me), but I didn't miss it. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I loved my face so much that I thought that covering it up with something would be a sin. No, my face left much to be wished, but I just didn't feel the need to daub it with some god-knows-what.

And Sierra knew it.

"Aren't you just beautiful." she cooed when I stepped out of the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the clock. Dominic was going to come here any minute. This morning, I was woken by a text saying:

B there at 5 sharp. The clock is ticking.

Then he kept sending me messages saying: 

Tick-tock. Every ten minutes.

After an hour I was half-tempted to throw the phone against the wall.

"I'm serious, though." she continued, following me into the kitchen. "You cleaned up nicely."

I knew I did. I was wearing black skinny jeans and a gray sweater. My only extras were the two ropey bracelets I always wore and a long, silver necklace. I didn't own any flats, and neither did Sierra, so I went with knee-length black boots. It wasn't an extremely elegant outfit, but I thought it was decent enough.

I nodded and picked up my phone. It was 4:58. He was going to be here any minute no-

A loud knocking sounded in the apartment. I sighed and padded over to the door.

"Don't we have an intercom?" Sierra asked.

Yeah, we did. And I will have to inform Dominic about it.

Bracing myself, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and opened the door. Not surprisingly, Dominic stood on the other side, with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. I run my eyes over his long-sleeved black t-shirt and dropped them to his feet clad in Timbalands. Or something really similar to it. I wasn't an expert. He wasn't wearing any jacket and I couldn't help but wonder how the hell he wasn't cold. It was like 60 degrees outside.

I was just about to ask him it, but he beat me by opening his mouth.

"Don't you own a dress?" he asked.

Aaaand just like that all my relatively good humor vanished. I raised a brow.

"Don't you own good manners?" I fired back.

Dominic rolled his eyes and pushed past me into the apartment.

"Come on in." I murmured and closed the door after him.

When I turned around, I spotted Sierra staring at him. I bet she was replaying the last time Dominic has been here in her mind. As if to the other one, his lips were stretched in that usual smirk of his, the one that tugged on my nerves so much. His expression was suspiciously cheerful.