SINNERS & SAINTS ⋆ nikki sixx

44. ✭ intervention

And now, reading this back, I realize that all of this is futile. Because it's been a month. And a lot can change in a month.

Chris could be a completely different person right now. She could have finally found a job that she enjoys, new friends that make her happier than she's ever been, she could even be applying for college again because I know how badly she wanted that. She could be clean, or at least trying, and I know that will be difficult for her, but with the right support system she would be able to do it. That woman is so fucking determined when she puts her mind to it.

What hurts me the most is that she could be with somebody else as I'm writing this. I wouldn't put that past her. Well, it's not that I wouldn't put it past her actually, it's just...she's beautiful, and funny, and she has such a great energy about her when she's in the right mood. Any guy would want my Chris. Any fucking guy.

And she's naive when she's high. So, to be honest, any guy probably will have her.

I just hope that, unlike me, she's going to make the right decisions. I resent her, so fucking much, for what she did, but that doesn't mean that I'll ever stop loving her, or wanting the best for her. Because I do, and I will.

Always.

Meanwhile, in Vancouver...

Tangled brunette strands, that she failed to take care of last night, were glued to the back of her neck while her face buried against the white, silk pillow she'd been resting atop.

Christine didn't know what it was that had roused her from such a deep slumber, but she was half certain that it might've had something to do with the strange man sound asleep next to her.

Or, it could have been the sound of the front door slamming shut at half eight in the morning.

Either way, Christine was awake long before her one night stand--whose name was bitterly uncertain--and she had to decide whether she wanted to disturb this strange man, or go about her morning whilst trying to keep her composure, pretending that there wasn't some random laying, stark naked, in her bed.

By the end of her fourth full week in Vancouver, Chris felt like she could've stolen the title of "Queen of making extremely stupid fucking decisions," and Anthony would've had to agree with that.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been staring at his naked form, tracing his tan chest whenever it would rise and fall as he slept, but she was absolutely certain that it had been much, much too long.

"Hey..." red nails softly danced across tattooed shoulder blades. Her flirty, though extremely spent, tone helping to stimulate the raven-haired, muscular stranger to her left.

Clearly, she had a type.

"What time is it?" He choked out, his voice groggy seeing as she had just disturbed his serene respite, after a long night of no peace. "The sun isn't even up."

"It's still early, but--" quickly thinking of a lie, she simply went for; "--I've got work at twelve and I kinda need to freshen up."

Chris tried all fucking ways to remember his name, though when it came down to it, she wasn't even certain that she had obtained such information in the first place. Drawing a blank, she simply shrugged as she let her fingertips glide over his ink, while his arm and hand that was around her body began to trace her hip bone.

For a brief moment in time, she felt at ease. She felt comfortable in the big, tattooed, arms of this strange man--who, she thought, held a striking resemblance to Nikki.