Page 38 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Uh, excuse fucking me?

Who the fuck is she, angel?

She doesn’t look like any of the bimbos I’ve seen in his tagged photos.

Again, who the fuck is she, and does she prefer death by choking or by sharp objects?

Shit, they’re coming this way. I look around me and dart to the closest tree, shielding myself from their view.

“It’s so good to see you, Rurik.” Wannabe Barbie says in a false baby voice, making me want to claw my ears off. She pretends to trip, making Rurik wrap his arm around her waist to steady her. “Oh, you’re so sweet, thank you!”

This bitch. Who told her it was cute to act dumb?

"I’ve actually never been here before," Wannabe Barbie giggles.

“Really?” Rurik asks, “I thought you said you lived here all your life? Surely, you’ve been to Central Park.”

My rage surges like a hemorrhage, threatening to spill out of my eyeballs. Steam seems to billow from my nose and ears as I watch her tightly wrap her fingers around Rurik's. When he shows no signs of stopping her, I nearly erupt.

Fuck, should I call Mr. Rogers to have the clean-up crew on standby?

Goddamnit, I didn’t want to kill anyone right now.

“Wow, handsome. Your arm feels so strong.”

Fuck it.

I’m seconds away from blowing my shit and making Murdered-As-Fuck Barbie a thing when Rurik’s eyes quickly dart to mine before returning to hers just as quickly.

And that's when I realize...

The way his face tightens into an uncomfortable grimace, the closer her face gets to his, the way he angles his body away from her despite smiling so charmingly at her...

Fucking asshole.

I straighten, staring at them. My heart returns to its usual rhythm, and my anger slowly dissipates as I realize what I'm witnessing. This is all a show. Rurik doesn’t like this girl; he’s just using her to get to me.

I grin.

He’s just trying to make me jealous and provoke a reaction. He almost got it, though.

But I’ll give him something else instead.

I fluff my hair and straighten my clothes before taking a position as if slowing down from a run. I breathe heavily, mimicking the exertion of a 10K race, and pretend to ignore Rurik as I jog past them.

Then, with a sudden stop, I spin around, feigning surprise.

“Rurik?” I gasp, jogging back toward him. “Oh my — Is that you, angel?”

Rurik blinks, his eyes widening until they surpass his face's breadth. The adorable flush in his cheeks drains away, leaving his complexion ashen.

That’s right, angel. Lose your shit like I almost lost mine.

Wannabe Barbie looks between us as if trying to figure out our story.

I wink at him, relishing the sight of his jaw clenching and his face flushing bright pink. Fuck, even with him looking all angry and shit, he’s so damn attractive. Also, why is he pissed off at me? I’m the one who told him to lose his side chicks.

I turn to Dollar Store Barbie and smile innocently, “Hi! My name’s Briar.”

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