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ROSALIE MONET SAT ON THE SIDE OF HER BED, bare legs dangling over the edge. She was facing her window, which emitted a soft glow of light from the outdoors, and the white lace curtains swayed a bit as a gentle breeze entered her room. Very little chatter could be heard from outside, so the night was probably way past the early hours. Distant murmurs of drunken conversations, along with the sound of feet on gravel and splashes of water from cars echoed from the unlatched aperture.
Her eyes scanned the dark chamber from the comfort of her soft mattress, hands desperately clutching the white comforter around her petite build. Rosalie was rendered particularly cold after her disturbed slumber, the fact that she was wearing pajama shorts and a thin camisole didn't help with the chills. Everything was in the same place since she retired to bedㅡwhich was probably five hours ago, she grimly noted that it was now past three o'clock in the morning. The clothes drawer was shut, her desk was cleared, jars of ballpoint pens and pencils grouped onto one side, papers still piled in the same positionㅡnot a single thing was moved.
But the dream felt so real.
Groaning, the groggy brunette rubbed one of her palms on her face as she tried to make sense of everythingㅡwhich admittedly annoyed her to no end. Nearly three months ago at the start of summer vacation (for highschool students, at least), the Monet had received a bouquet of flowers comprising of twelve pristine white tulips. She was confused about the gesture because she couldn't even remember anyone remotely showing interest in her.
Since then, the delivery of twelve tulips continued daily, and Rosalie was plagued by the strangest of dreams. It changed every night, but she was always constantly accompanied by the same person. Well, she didn't know who it wasㅡjust that he was extremely good-looking and being with him felt distinctively like home. Heㅡwhoever it wasㅡsmelt of coffee, dried paint and lavender, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. The combination of scents weirdly made sense to her. She just felt so warmly comforted in his presence. Well, dream-presense? That probably wasn't a word, she mused. But it will have to do if I am to see him every single time I try to get some sleep.
The man held an aura of power, demanding respect to those surrounding him. There was something about him that screamed leadership and intelligence, which only attracted her more. She should be scared of him, of the capabilities he had yet to show; but she wasn't. No, Rosalie wanted to be with this...this monster,ashe had said people called him innumerable times. She remembered telling him once in a dream that he was the complete opposite.
