Page 26 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Nat tears her gaze away from the window and turns to look at me with a curious expression. “Who?”

“Rurik!” Who else could I be talking about? He’s all I’ve been talking about for the past few days.

I show her my phone—or Rurik Campbell’s Instagram page. It’s been nearly a month since we first met during his first showcase, and I can’t stop thinking about him.

Have I been stalking him ever since that fateful day?

Yes. I fucking have.

Right now, he’s probably painting some glorious view. I know he likes to go to Central Park every Friday evening and paint whatever suits his mood. I tried to join him multiple times, but I always got the same greeting every time.

Can you fuck off?

Leave me the hell alone, Briar!

Quit bugging me, you crazy woman.

Cross me again, and I’ll make you regret it.

Get out of my face.

Or my personal favorite: What the fuck?

See? He totally likes me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have bothered speaking to me. My beautiful angel likes to play hard to get. But that’s cool. I love challenges.

I haven’t seen him in a while, though. I’m pretty sure he has been trying to avoid me. It’s fucking adorable. But I miss seeing his face. So much so that I have resorted to stalking him on social media. Like a fucking love-sick teenage girl.

Shit.

Am I crazy?

Nat stares at the screen for a few seconds before looking back out the car window, “Girl, I’m warning you right now… Direct your fascination elsewhere.”

I frown as we both watch two men dressed in black gear with ski masks attempt to break into Nat’s cousin’s car. Mr. Rogers asked Nat and me to come over because he was afraid this type of shit was going to happen.

“Why? He fascinates me.” I ask curiously.

One of the guys looks around as if he's in one of those spy movies, yet fails to see us inside the car across from them. He looks at his partner and says something before wrapping his fist with cloth and smashing the car window.

“Those idiots,” Nat hisses as the sounds of glass breaking echoed through the street. She throws me a look and sighs, “Hold that thought.”

We both jump out of the car, causing the two men to freak out.

“Shit!”

“Oh, fuck me!”

“No, I’m good,” I say as I quicken my steps.

The guy who dared to smash the car window holds his hand up. “Listen, we didn’t…” He must have realized I wasn’t in the mood to slow my pacing because he quickly curses again and attempts to flee.

But I am already in a foul mood because of them. I could be watching over my angel right about now. But instead, I’m here, trying to put a stop to these losers. So, when the guy tries to run past me—why he thinks that's a good idea just shows me how intelligent he is—I stick my foot out and watch him trip marvelously.

I look over to see Nat already pinning down his partner, a pink bedazzled gun digging into his skull.

“What’s wrong with me liking Rurik?” I ask her, slamming the man’s head against the ground to stop him from moving.

He starts yelling, but I can’t be bothered. I pull both of his arms behind him and press my knee against his gathered wrists before handcuffing them together. The dude will not shut the fuck up, so I take out a handkerchief from my back pocket and shove it inside his mouth.

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