Page 70 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Hours later, I am now bagging groceries instead of engaging in conversations about art. I glance at the clock and feel relief wash over me when I realize I only have 30 minutes left until I’m finally off. I guess all the bitching happening inside my head helped make time go by faster.

Once I finish my pre-closing duties, I sneak into the back and pull out my phone. I can’t help but feel a drop of disappointment when no notifications are waiting for me.

What do you expect, asshole? Should she keep texting you when you haven’t replied at all? Do you think she’s that desperate for you?

No.

Yes.

Feeling annoyed, I stuff my phone inside my pocket and continue with the rest of my shift. I should feel happy that she’s finally leaving me alone, right? Or am I used to her unwanted advances, and now it feels kind of off without them?

After locking the door behind me, I wave goodbye to my co-workers and head home. Like every night after my shift, I put my headphones on and start blasting music. It helps me keep walking without thinking it’s quite a distance between here and home. I check my inbox, and the disappointment comes crashing in again like an annoying visitor.

Fuck you, Briar, for messing with my head.

I exit my inbox and find myself browsing Instagram. I see a post by Natalie in which she uploaded a picture of herself, Oscar, and Briar. Without thinking, I click on Briar’s name and am greeted with colorful pictures of Briar Reyes.

Pictures of her sticking her tongue out at the camera.

Pictures of her sticking the middle finger at the camera.

Pictures of cats.

Pictures of ice cream.

A picture of her and Nat kissing Oscar on the cheeks — For some reason, that specific picture leaves an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

I blame the cheese I ate.

It was just a bunch of random pictures. I shake my head at the randomness of her profile and scroll back up, my thumb accidentally clicking on ‘Follow.’

Shit.

Panic seeps through my veins, and I feel like I was drowning in fear. I didn’t mean to follow her. I immediately click ‘Unfollow’ and groan. Hopefully, she never got a notification about a new follower.

Suddenly, I feel something roughly grabbing the back of my sweatshirt, making me stagger backward. I whirl around in time to see a couple of massive bodies dropping like flies on the floor and…

What the fuck?

I remove my headphones and watch Briar sock a third guy in the face. As soon as the three guys lay on the floor, moaning and groaning in pain, Briar lets out an exhausted huff and tosses her hair out of her face as she straightens up.

“What the fuck?” I repeat, this time out loud.

Briar turns to me and glares, “Uh, why are you pissed at me?”

I gawk at her, my mouth falling open.

She stares at me and rolls her eyes, muttering, “The audacity of this man, I swear.” She sighs as if she’s annoyed with me and snaps. “You shouldn’t be blasting your music super loud and not paying attention to your surroundings, angel. Especially in this neighborhood. Do you have any idea how many times you've come close to getting your ass beat?”

What the fuck?

Her eyes narrow, “Do you have anything else to say besides that? I know that’s your favorite thing to ask me, but still.”

I close my mouth, not realizing I said that out loud again.

She stares at me again, her eyes blazing with anger. The gold specks in her eyes shimmer with ferocity, adding an extra layer of intensity to her already crazed gaze.

Beautiful.

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