Page 225 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“You’re so fucking adorable, Rurik.”

He sputters and stands up. “What the fuck!”

“What?” I grin as I stand up with him and cross my arms. “I just think it’s adorable that you’re trying to say we’re over when you keep giving me fuck me eyes.”

“I’m not!” Rurik growls and shakes his head. He heads to the bedroom and gathers his clothes from the dresser. “I’m done. I want out of whatever the fuck this is.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not an option,” I say, leaning against the door frame.

“I’m done, Briar,” Rurik snaps, roughly shoving his clothes inside his duffel bag.

“With this role-play? Same. Let’s do the student-teacher one.”

He turns to look at me and glares, “Briar!”

I dramatically inhale deeply and sigh. “God, I love it when you scream my name, angel.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” His face cracks for only a second before that mask of anger returns. “I’m serious, we’re over.”

“What did I tell you about this push-and-pull game you love to play?” I snap, walking over to him to grab his clothes from his hands and put them back. “Stop being such an asshole and tell me what this is really about.”

He falters but then shakes his head. “I told you! We’re over!”

“If your art career doesn’t work out, I don’t think you should pursue theater as your backup. You’re terrible at acting.”

“Briar,” Rurik warns as he grabs his clothes from my hands. But because I’m such a brat, I grab them back, and now we’re playing a game of tug-of-war with his clothes. His cheeks flush red with either annoyance or anger. “Let go…We’re over, damn it. Fuck… Can you… Briar!”

I drop my arms with a huff and raise a brow. “What is this about? Tell me.”

But he ignores me and stuffs his clothes in his duffel bag. His eyes cast downwards, and his lips press into a tight line. He looks… scared. Panicking, even.

We both stay silent as the sounds of the dresser opening and closing and the zippers of his duffel bag opening as he continues packing it.

I don’t look away from him. Something is wrong. And I bet it has to do with Philip because this morning, I woke up to Rurik peppering my face with a bunch of kisses before he left. After seeing his stepdad, he comes here and says we’re done?

Bullshit.

I close my eyes, channeling the same crazy Briar who broke down his walls from the beginning. I'll admit what started with me relentlessly pursuing him to the point of tackling him in public bathrooms eventually led to me becoming more relaxed.

In other words, I chilled out when Rurik and I started fucking.

But I guess I chilled out for too long, and now Rurik thinks he can just up and leave — After yelling at me when I tried to end things.

Fucking hypocritical asshole.

I open my eyes to find Rurik glancing at me. When our eyes meet, he immediately looks away, his jaw ticking.

My lips curve. Jesus, he’s so hot.

And he’s about to get even hotter because I’m going to fuck him up — whether from anger or lust from what I’m about to do.

I clear my throat, and he stiffens.

I pull my shirt over my head, and it drops to the floor.

Oh, look, my bra goes along with it.

Rurik looks at me, his face tightening. “What are you doing?”

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