Scarred

Three

Gross. Aurelia thought as she pushed open the door to her pathetic little 3-bedded apartment. Not only was it a mouldy, peeling block of red building; she had the luck of a toad with her housemates. Foul cigeratte smell practically wafted the living hall on a daily basis.

And today was no different.

Granted, she'd wanted to get the hell out of this place since the day she moved in. But she never really had much of a choice. She'd learned to be independent all her life but nobody ever told her how much rental costs in NYC. It wasn't a problem when she was still in the orphanage.

So despite that scholarship to her dream design school, everything else outside of it was a massive blur to her. She only had to make one mistake, just one; and her life could possibly tumble down right in front of her eyes.

Starting now.

She hadn't made any efforts to check out her face, newly taped with a large white bandage on her right cheek. In fact, it was a relief. It was tiring having to cup it with her hand all night and frankly, she was way too exhausted to think. She'd worry about that later.

Right now, all she could think of was to take that hour nap she had left before she'd report for her 10AM class. Her usual routine consisted of school, her waitressing job down at a diner in Brooklyn and if she was lucky; extra cash as a bottle girl at night.

It wasn't a job she enjoyed that much, but one night of tips and commission from Mythic could easily pay her rent. She figured with a bandage on her face, she'd likely have to take a week off from work but that shouldn't be too much of an issue after she gets the stitches off. Maybe, just maybe, that the scar would fade quickly and a simple concealer would do the trick.

Everything'd be as per normal again.

••

"Is this some kind of a new meditation pose?" Norman commented. He spun Oscar's office chair back to face the desk, seeing as he'd been staring at the blank wall behind him for awhile.

Oscar grunted. "What the hell is your problem?"

He wasn't going to admit he'd been thinking of Aurelia for the past two nights. He, himself, could barely believe it. He assumed it to be guilt at first, but would guilt remind him the smell of her hair? Would guilt replay the part where she was sitting on his lap, kissing him as if he hadn't ever been kissed? Would guilt also make him so out of his mind he hadn't done shit other than to nod and agree on every fucking proposal that was brought to him?

Bloody hell. He'd already paid for her medical expenses. What else did he need to do to get her out of his system?

Ian, who had strolled in without Oscar realizing, plopped down on his leather couch in his office. It was never so much just his own since Ian and Norman constantly came in and made themselves at home in there. Case in point—Ian was lying flat with his foot dangling over the arm rest, his fingers interlocked behind his head.

"You're the one who needs to get his head checked." Ian said. "A bake sale, really?" He shook his head. "That's the one you want to go with for this year's fundraiser?"

"I'd say to fire the one who suggested it." Norman chimed in, sitting across Oscar at his desk. "God, is she twenty? A bake sale!"

Ian and Norman laughed.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "What? Does a car wash sounds anymore appealing?"

"It does, considering the cha-chings we raised three years ago." Norman smirked.

"Yeah, right. A third of which came from our own pockets. Y'know you can shove it if you don't have a better idea." Oscar groaned, leaning back against his seat.