03 | dead girls dance

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IT PROBABLY WASN'T a good idea to trust a boy she hardly knew anything about other than the worst things

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IT PROBABLY WASN'T a good idea to trust a boy she hardly knew anything about other than the worst things. As Roman drove his cursed cherry red vehicle that rekindled old memories, Rory stared at his sculpted profile warily. It was the kind of awkward silence that fell over when two people who were highly suspicious of each other slash low key attracted to each other and hardly knew each other at all.

He snuck a glance at her.

Simultaneously, they opened their mouths to speak.

"I—"

"So—"

Another awkward pause.

Rory shook her head with a badly disguised annoyed expression. "What now?"

His brow arched at her exasperated tone. "So, you must hate me a lot, huh?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't hate you, Roman," Rory admitted truthfully, but then she sneered, "But I can't say I like you very much either."

Instead of sounding offended, he barked out a deep, throaty chuckle. "Is it the whole car-sex thing? I didn't think you were the prude type—"

She interrupted him with a roll of her eyes. "I'm no saint. I just know what kind of guy you are," Rory shrugged while keeping her gaze trained on his profile defiantly.

That's when Roman shot her a dirty look. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Feeling a combination of aggravated and sad, she wasn't prepared to go head to head with another boy again. "Nothing, just let it go," she pursed her lips. Roman narrowed his sharp eyes at her which she sighed deeply at. "I'm really not in the mood for another goddamn argument, Godfrey."

Roman was certainly petty and determined to get to the bottom of things. He was your modern-day Scooby Doo gang all in one arrogant, wealthy playboy package. "Is that why you were walking down an empty back road hardly anyone takes?" he questioned despite Rory's dark glower.

"Fuck off."

He raised his brow. "Who?"

"It's none of your fucking business," Rory snapped back, crossing her arms and hoping the damned car ride would end as soon as possible. She wasn't about to dish out her semi-argument with Peter about the tragedy that was her life to his friend and her public enemy.

Roman snickered at her fuming state whilst his curiosity burned hotter than ever. "Who? Who pissed in your pancakes, sweetheart?"

𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘉𝘖𝘙 ° 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕 𝘎𝘖𝘋𝘍𝘙𝘌𝘠 ✓Where stories live. Discover now