Page 106 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

He’s so in love with me. I just know it.

“You’re such a walking migraine.”

Okay, maybe he doesn’t love me. BUT. I’m slowly getting to him, and that’s better than nothing.

Rurik stares at my lips before looking away with a huff. “If we do this—”

“When we do this. Sorry, go on.”

He glares at me. “If we do this… I have some ground rules. Boundaries we need to set, I mean.”

And that is how I died.

Yup, this is the moment I died.

I'm dead.

Ow! Nope, that sting as I dig my nails into my palm says otherwise.

Oh god.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Girl, chill the fuck out before you scare him.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Oh. My. God!

It’s happening. It’s finally fucking happening!

I lift my chin, forcing myself to look calm and collected. “Okay?”

Rurik inhales deeply, then exhales, as if he's still uncertain about what to say or can't quite believe he's agreeing to whatever this is.

Believe it, angel. Stop fighting the inevitable, damn it!

“If we're going to do this… IF, Briar. If we do this,” He ignores my eye roll. “We're not telling anyone about us.”

“Not even our mutual friends? Oscar? Nat?”

“No. I don't want anyone to see us together alone, either.”

I cross my arms. “What if I want to hang out with all four of us?”

“No.”

“What? But people could just assume we're all friends.”

“That’s too bad,” Rurik says like he’s being freaking fair. “That’s one of my rules.”

Fuck your rules, Rurik.

“Noted,” I smile sweetly. “I can be your dirty little secret, angel. Next?”

“Since we can’t have anyone know, I suggest we meet up only late at night.”

I nod. That works for me because of how random the Rogers call me. “That works. Anything else?”

Rurik's lips press into a thin line. “This is just physical, okay? We are not going to be friends, we are not going to have any sort of relationship, we are nothing to each other. Do you understand?”

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