His Rosaline Thorn (#CampNaNoWriMo)

Cafe Hate

I bundled up in a pea coat and scarf, opting for black dress trousers and velvet suede loafers. As I walked into the common room, I found that Lucius had beat me to it, lounging with one leg resting on his other knee. His dark curls were messed up in a still classy way, his jawline sharpening drastically under the washed out morning rays.

"Ahem. Ready?" I cleared my throat, hands fisted inside my pockets. He turned his head, sporting a smile.

"Of course, Rosie."

We strode out of the academy, slipping outside the gates in front of a Harley Davidson. Slipping on one of the helmets from the handles, I sat in the seat, watching him expectantly. I half expected him to blanch at the thought of riding something like this and half hoped that he would agree without so much as a wince. Instead, he nodded in approval, throwing on the other helmet as he sat behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist like snakes, and my breath almost hitched.  We took off towards in the direction of Opera, London's downtown center. Traffic was a beast, men and women honking and cursing. Taking illegal action, I zipped through the lanes, narrowly missing side mirrors. 

"Aren't you a pro," Lucius murmured against me. I couldn't help but smirk under my helmet, flicking my hair that had escaped from underneath my helmet against his.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Crown." Revving the engine, we sped off, taking a sharp turn left onto a wider road. I accelerated into the lower gear, lifting my front wheel off the ground. His grip around my waist tightened, and I cackled.  I repeated that for a few more turns on the streets as we furthered ourselves away from the city center. My blood was roaring in my ears, my heart passing rapidly under my skin. The thrill of the ride soon came to a close as we slipped off on the side of a cobblestoned street, strolling into an alley. There was a dim light that flickered, threatening to go out. The door I rapped my knuckles on was poorly maintained, slick grim coating the once lovely stained wood. The eye slot slid open, a pair of deep brown eyes filling in the space.

"Password," the woman said.

"Louetta." the woman behind the door abruptly shut the slot. The undoing of many locks could be heard, and the door swung open. A robust woman in her fifties smiled pleasantly, beckoning us in.

"Welcome to Cafe Deteste, I'll have a server be right with you," she said in a thick French accent, motioning us to a booth in the back. The cafe was dimly lit, pink lights illuminating the room. We sat opposite of each other, with me pursing my lips and him grinning like an idiot.

"I didn't know you knew how to ride a bike, Rosie," he exclaimed, folding his hands tightly as he leaned towards my face. I did the same, tsking.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Lucius." I let out a low growl, my upper lip curling. It seemed I did that almost everytime I was around him. 

"Love the place you found. It's very charming." He eyed the pink roses on to my right. 

"It's a secluded enough to where I don't have to fret about others finding me. It's admission by invitation only, of course." Picking out a rose from the slim vase, I swirled the wet stem over the table, leaving a trail of water. I had been less than careful when a sharp prick shuddered through me. I let go of the rose, hissing between my teeth as blood bloomed from where I'd been pricked on my thumb. Lucius gracefully picked up the flower underneath its head, inhaling the fresh aroma.

"Easy, my Rosaline Thorne. You don't want to scar those pretty fingers of yours," he smirked, rolling his eyes as he slipped a grin my way.

"Don't call me 'Your Rosaline Thorne'. That's so ten years ago," I exaggerated, waving my hand. He unleashed a howl, earning concerning glances our way from the middle-aged woman and the staff. 

"Shush! You're too loud," I hissed, swatting his hand. He amended by biting his napkin, turning away from me. 

"It's been too long, Rosaline. I missed this." He motioned between the two of us, smiling weakly. Knives were poking my tear ducts, and I cleared my throat, glancing away. 

"You seem to miss a lot, Lucius. A lot," I croaked, biting the inside of my lip.

"Rosie-"

"It's Rosaline. There's no Rosie anymore," I hissed, the knives poking quickly turning into sharp stabs, and my throat was thick with a decade worth of bottled emotions. 

"Rosaline," he started, taking hold of my cold hands in his warm ones. His hands were as smooth as a babe's, his thumb running over the back of my hand. It was something he used to do when we were seven years old. When I hurt myself, I would always bawl. Our parents rushed outside in a fuss only to find me silenced and held in his chubby arms while we sat on the edge my family's angel fountain, one arm steadying my back and rocking me back and forth as I wept. His other always held my hand, running his thumb over the back of my skinny hand. It still felt like it did all those years ago. Warm and reassuring. It shouldn't feel like that.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know about my departure. It was just too hard to say goodbye to you, especially after-", he stopped, hesitating. 

"Yes, that." I knew, and it still felt like a thousand arrows were lodged in my lungs just thinking about it.

"I just thought it was best we go our separate ways with nothing tying us down." His voice was strained, as if on the verge of breaking. I snorted.

"We both see what good that did." Our food had arrived, the girl stealthily slinking away. It sat there on the edge, untouched and growing cold.

"I think after all these years of not writing back to me has definitely put into perspective where I stand in your life." I pulled my hands away from his, averting my attention to my English breakfast and tea.

"Rosaline, please understand that I'm sorry," he pleaded, hands white-knuckling the edge of the table between us.

"Actions speak louder than words, Lucius. You of all people know that about me." I continued cutting into my sausage, sliding it between my lips. The saltiness of the meat matched my unforgiving mood. I stared back into the defeated eyes of Lucius, smiling coldly. 

"And because of all the hurt you subjected me to over the years, I can't help but hate you. So if you want my forgiveness, you'll have to do better than that."

"I'll do anything, as long as it can go back to the way it used to be," he said, voice hitching. My knife stopped mid-slice, my cat eyes sliding up, scrutinizing.

"Well then, get ready to grovel."