Love Lace

iii. Vices

DIANA

  WITH hands buried deep in the pockets of her worn woolen coat, the sound of her heels clicking stung her ears sharply as she walked up the steps to the house. She gnawed at her lip and came to a stop in front of the door, her mind wandering back to the party last night and to the men she had met. Her father would go ballistic if he found out she was moving in with a bunch of guys but she couldn't resist the gift of living somewhere so nice for free. Rent in New England was ridiculous.

Montgomery was nice enough, Antony had been kind, and Soren... she wasn't sure what to think of him yet. He was a bit frightening, not that he had done anything to warrant the fear crawling into her veins— but he had a way about him. A look in his eye that demanded he be in charge and there would be consequences if he wasn't. It was strange, but when she looked at him she felt those eyes of his had seen awful things. It didn't matter that he was young. Some people lived more in twenty years than others did in a hundred, it wasn't time that mattered; and Soren Laurier had the presence of someone who had lived. Or is desperately trying to.

Her throat felt dry as she stared at the door, nervous Montgomery would swing it open again before she was prepared. She was never good at this sort of thing, the social aspect of life. Stick her in a room with books and ask her to talk to a piece of paper with ink and she'd become the world's most beloved socialite. People though, people were difficult.

Looking at her watch, the hand ticked by the seconds. It made her heart quicken as if it was a doomsday countdown and her breath hitched when it struck nine. Raising a shaking hand due to drinking a coffee on an empty stomach, she went to knock on the door.

Her fist barely had time to hit the wood when it opened and she froze. She blinked dumbly at the boy in front of her, who looked like he was nearly asleep and he glared at her half heartedly. "Took you long enough." His voice held a heavy rasp as sleep clung to his vocal cords.

Diana blushed and lowered her arm. "Have you just been standing there waiting for me to knock?"

"Yes." His response was blunt and held no hint of amusement. He stepped back and waved an arm. "Now get inside, it's cold."

"Be nice!" A voice called from somewhere in the house, sounding like it was coming from the kitchen.

The boy rolled his eyes and shut the door behind her. "I'm Ares." He then plastered a smile on his face that screamed it was forced.

She shuffled on her feet awkwardly and forced a laugh. "It's okay, I prefer you being blunt over," she waved an arm at his face. "Whatever that's trying to be."

His features fell, though he did appear to be more relaxed. She took a moment to look at him as he walked her through the house. He was good looking. They all were, now that she thought about it. Ares had a roughness to him that made him properly handsome; looking like the God of War he was named after.

He had tall, broad shoulders and tanned skin that tugged at his white t-shirt, he was on the skinnier side and looked like he mostly lived off cigarettes and coffee. There was a mess of light brown curls on his head. Not too long, but enough to run your fingers through. Dark circles hung beneath his green eyes, and as if to drive home the fact that he was tired, he rubbed at his face and stifled a yawn.

"Up late?" Her face turned red as he raised a brow at her, not realizing that might've sounded suggestive. Diana cleared her throat, "I didn't see you at the party last night."

"I hate those things."

"I do, too."

"Then why'd you go?"