Bliss

18 | Beautiful

*Picture of Clifford*

"When I look at you, I see Colors."

[Unedited]

• Rosalie Scott •

I forgot how to breathe. How can someone breathe? I stared at Calvin. His smirk was still plastered on his face as he carefully looked over the road.

He noticed that I was staring at him, so he looked at me, "Rosalie?" Rosalie. I liked my name in that moment. "Hey, breathe!" As if it was magic, I let the air in.

"Um–" I cleared my throat, as I felt my face get flushed, "Your place?" I asked, wanting to pull off casual question tone.

He glanced at me again, then back at the road, he laughed. "You should've looked at yourself, you were blue," Yet, I'm probably a tomato by now, "Yeah, my place, we're meeting there,"

Oh. "We?"

He nodded, "You, me and Clifford."

"What about Adam and Aria?" He didn't mention them.

"Because it's abou–" His phone went off, we both groaned in unison.

"Get rid of that thing! It always interrupts us," I mutter, not really thinking of what I said.

"One day I will," He said lowly, his eyes darkening as he handed his phone to me. "Can you turn it off?" He asked, concentrating on driving.

Hesitantly, I took it from him and pressed the lock button until the option for shutting the iPhone off appears, I slide it and it shuts down. "Who is it anyway? Is it– Olivia?" I bit my lip when I asked.

He hummed, not answering my question. "You didn't peek?" He questioned, I didn't blame him. Most people would peek, for it was a good opportunity.

"I value privacy. I can't look." But you can tell me and relieve my curiosity.

He chuckled, and glanced at me, "You can't look?" He didn't sound like he believed me. I don't blame him either.

You see, I have this obsession with another theory of mine. A theory of when I give good, I receive good. And when I do something bad, I receive worse. The theory has its flaws, but I like believing in something like this. So, I don't like snooping at private things even if the phone was right in front of my eyes, password free. I explained this to him.

"–whenever I touch something I'm not supposed to, my body itches, telling me to leave it alone. I don't know, I'm weird," I chuckled, noticing how he looked at me, he was merely looking. He must think I'm nuts.

"I like weird." He said, making my eyes widen. "It makes you unique. You're weird in a good way, you own it, and I like that." He gave me a side way smile that made my insides flutter. What was wrong with me?

I didn't talk, yet he did. "It was my father's assistant." He said, looking at the road. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, confused, "He's our jerk of an interruptor." He nodded at his phone. I knew what he meant now. The person who excessively calls him.

"What does he want from you?" I asked, curious as to why his father's assistant is calling him.

Calvin sighed, "He's pushing me to come to the company. My father wants me to get to know the business, and how to run it." I remembered that every time he gets calls, he answers angrily and tell the person -his father's assistant- to leave him alone, and that he wasn't coming.