Pretty Girls

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I WASN'T TOO sure about the last minute decision of leaving the house late the very second we arrived at the venue. Like Apollo had promised, it was a simple and quaint little downtown bar that had drinks and live music. Although it wasn't a club scene that had strobe lights and mingling bodies, I still did not quite feel at home.

Apollo, on the other hand, threw the swinging doors wide open with a broad grin, marching into the venue as if he owned the place. I followed closely behind him, making sure to keep as close to him as possible since I wasn't able to see very well in the dim lighting.

As if he had sensed my subtle action, he quickly linked our fingers, taking my hand in his almost too casually before finding the both of us a seat at the bar counter.

Once we were seated on the stools, he raised a hand, waving at the bartender on duty. "Two orange juices, please."

The bartender nodded once, quickly filling the cups with the fruit juice before sliding it over to us. Apollo handed him a couple of dollar bills and just like that, the bartender was off to complete more orders.

"I didn't think you would order an orange juice for yourself as well," I mused, curling my fingers around the slim glass before lifting it off the counter. I brought the glass to my lips, sipping at the tangy liquid before placing it back down on the counter surface.

"Like you said, it's a school night. Wouldn't be too wise of me to hit the hard alcohols at this hour." Apollo shrugged, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. He lifted the glass, saluting it a little before tipping the contents back with a satisfied sigh afterwards.

"Nothing like a little vitamin C, am I right?" I laughed, shaking my head as he blinked dumbly in my direction. He was probably confused as to why I was keeled over chuckling, not knowing that he had a thin line of orange running right above his lips like a tiny moustache.

"Huh?" He asked stupidly, eyes following after my movement. I leaned forward, wiping a dumb across the top of his lip to wipe the orange stain off. The second I leaned back, a knowing look flashed across his eyes. "Oh."

"Orange is not your color," I giggled.

"You are a bad liar, Iridessa." For a second there, his frown was real. His eyebrows were crinkled, the corners of his lips turned down in upset. His next words, however, proved the playfulness that still tinted his voice. "Every color is my color."

"Maybe, but I think sunshine yellow fits you best. You are like your name. Boisterous, happy, so filled with the charm of life. You give people hope."

Apollo's shoulders rose and fell slowly, eyelids slowly blinking a few times as his expression turned from playful to neutral.

"No one has ever said that about me before," he mumbled under his breath. "I've never had someone say that I gave them hope."

"Well, you gave me hope. You became my friend, my sole pillar of strength, offered me a safe haven and helped me boost a confidence I never knew I had."

Maybe that glass of orange juice really did have alcohol in it because I suddenly felt amazingly daring. I rested my hands on his, holding them gently.

"I owe you everything," I murmured.

Something flashed in those brilliant irises of Apollo's, dashing the blue with a strike of silver lightning. He looked up, away from our connected hands and directly into my eyes. Our gazes were in collision, silence hanging above us like a cloak that shielded us away from the rest of the world.