Page 88 of The Villain

“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

“You’re never coming back to this shit heap.”

I get set on my feet and he opens the door for me with a glare. I reorient myself with a frown, glancing inside. His fancy car is spotless. I’m starting to think he’s a neat freak which doesn’t make sense for all the times I’ve seen him out in his pjs. I glance down at my socks, wondering if I should go back inside and get my shoes.

“Get. In.”

I meet his eyes with a bland look.

“Now,” he snarls, looking absolutely done with me.

I shake my head and get in with a sigh. He has a point. He won so I owe him my compliance. For now. It’s more exciting than I anticipated. Everything is in vibrant colors that want to overwhelm me again.

He waits for me to get settled and leans in to snap my belt buckle in place. It’s the weirdest thing because my body relaxes at the smell of his cologne, naturally accepting his presence enough to feel sleepy. I need to get a bottle of that stuff. It’s an instant putty response for me. A new sleep aid.

He slams my door and his when he gets in. He takes a few deep breaths while I watch. Then he starts the car and peels out of the lot. He doesn’t say anything for several miles, grinding his teeth and trying to bend the steering wheel with his white knuckled grip.

I reach out to stroke the backs of my fingers down his cheek.

His eyes flick to me as his nostrils flare.

“You won, calm down for me.”

He goes back to ignoring me.

With his driving it takes five minutes to get to his apartment. I don’t think he stopped for red lights but I was too busy watching him to pay attention.

“The way you drive is going to get you killed,” I frown.

“Scared?” He taunts as he whips into his parking spot.

“No. Do you have leather gloves to wear when you get like this? If not, I’ll get you some.” I unbuckle to step out of the car.

He follows and gets behind me to force me towards the door.

“What are we doing?” I walk up the path, taking everything in. I’ve seen it over a hundred times. I’ve practically got it memorized. But I’ve never walked it.

“Arguing. Sleeping.”

“Huh,” is my elegant response. I have no idea what we’re supposed to be fighting about. My concern over his wellbeing is replaced by excitement. I’m curious to finally see inside his place. Another thing to fixate on. A peek into his life.

He unlocks the door and ushers me inside then turns and relocks it, fiddling with another lock at the top of the door that latches with a loud click. He gives me a pointed look as he passes me. Why? It’s not like I’m going to leave.

I take in the furniture. I’m startled at the stark contrast of the dark couch and coffee table versus the white cream of the carpet. Everything is immaculate, like no one lives here. It doesn’t feel like Shade at all.

“No anime posters?” I feel cheated. He let me inside but there’s nothing in here that’s him. This is worse than not being here. At least then I could still imagine something wonderful for him. This place is like a tomb. He needs more.

He pauses to look at me from the kitchen and then fills a glass of water. He downs it as if he’s chugging a beer.

When he doesn’t respond I start exploring. There’s a bedroom that screams Tera. It looks like it’s ready for her to come back at a moment’s notice.

The bathroom is back to the black and white theme. I find a few knives stashed in the cabinets with the black towels and another in with the rolls of toilet paper.

The last room is the same. It has no personality. Anyone could live here.

The bed is made up, the nightstand has a phone charger and nothing else. All conspicuously clean. The only thing that seems personal is the computer setup at a desk across the room. There’s a laptop in front of it as if the three monitors aren’t enough for him. The keyboard lights up in rainbow colors, casting the weird light I’ve been seeing in the dark room. I flick on the light switch and walk in as if I own the place.

There are knives strapped to the underside of the computer desk. A gun under the simple office chair. I wonder how many weapons are hidden in plain sight. A check under his bed shows me a staff of some sort made of metal.

---