AUBREY

six

(Cain's POV)

The street lights flicker ominously in the night, the dim amber creating small rays of light. Streams of lilac and burnt orange weave patterns through the sky, erasing any sunlight from the day, blanketing our world with a low sunset.

My phone vibrates in my pocket insistently until I answer it, my hand briefly pausing when I see it's one of the guys from the gang. "Hey."

"Hey, big man told us that he needs the job sharpish: bring your A-game fast, Villareal, otherwise you're losing this job and your spot."

I roll my eyes and lean my neck back, trying to rid of the stress, "Alright, well I need time to get it done-"

"No, Cain. It's been two months and you haven't reported anything since that closet stuff. I'm not your age, but here's an idea, take her to that dumb dance, sleep with her, hold her hostage, shoot her old man and done, why can't you do that in the next week?"

Beacuse it's not that easy; because she's the only real thing in my life.
"Of course. I'll get it done as soon as possible, got to go now, breaking up, bye."

When I end the call, my body aches: I can't kill her and her dad, who the fuck does that? I can't fabricate a relationship, or can I?
Sure, she's a pain in the ass, but at least she's persistent. She holds a confident title of being so icy, but where is it leading her, to hang out with some low life, like me? Painful thoughts circulate in my head as I stop in the street, my mind breaking into confused shards at where I am. I can't afford to give up on my dream, but can I really afford to give Aubrey up, either?

(Aubrey's POV)

"Have you seen Cain?"

My friends stop their conversation, presumably about tonight's dance, and turn to face me with subtle disgust in their eyes.
"The criminal? He's probably some addict, Aubs."

"Ooh, but he's a hot one!"
"Ohmygod! So hot!"

I sigh deeply, rubbing my temples in internal annoyance. "I asked if you'd seen him, not what you think about him, girls."

As soon as I'd entered the building, I waited an extra five minutes for him to turn up late, but he never showed up. Five minutes. For me, that's too much precious time I'm wasting: I could've spent those five minutes recoating my nails, after all.

"Ya and he's not here; why do you even care about some loser like him?"

I warn myself to keep calm, tightening my fists and taking mini breaths in and out.

"Even though he's hot, he probably murders people." Inhale.
"He's a lunatic, so that's true: he's always injured, gross." Exhale.

But no amount of breathing calms the raging storm inside of me at every word they talk about him. Leaning closer to them, I plaster a smile on my face, brushing off imaginary dirt from them. "I could explain every single, incredible thing about him, ranging from how selfless he can be to how protective he is, but I couldn't comprehend it for you. Oh, by the way, the dress you're wearing tonight does bring out the paleness of your skin - better luck next time."

All the anger is replaced by confidence as I saunter away from them, but all the walls slightly crumble when I notice him standing by the wall, his face emotionless.
"You're leaving your pose."

"Yeah, well, they were being mindless and-"

"Trashing me?" He bores his eyes into mine, slowly trapping me in a small corner with him. Despite the gain of confidence I had before, all traces of it completely leave my body when he's here.