The Ballerina & The Devil

Twenty One. His Muse

My eyes were shut, and my head was tilted back as Aidan and I cruised down the streets on his motorcycle.

Motorcycles were, without a doubt, godsend. The fact that they had the capability to allow a person to feel so free and energized, but at the same time content and sound was truly extraordinary.

I'm pretty sure if everyone rode motorcycles the world would be more at peace.

I let out a sad sigh when we came to a halt. "Aw," I pouted, opening my eyes.

"I drove you around for an hour," Aidan reminded me, putting the kick stand down. "You can't tell me you haven't gotten your fill."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," I unwrapped my arms around his waist and hopped off. "You should let me drive it sometime."

"Do you have motorcycle license?" He asked expectantly.

I kicked the pavement and turned surly. "No."

"Then can you drive the motorcycle?"

"No."

He nodded and climbed off the bike.

"I'm sure you wouldn't let me drive it even if I did have a motorcycle license," I muttered bitterly.

"That is true," Aidan nodded.

I pulled off my helmet and noticed my surrounding environment for the first time. "Your house?"

"Yeah, I need to pick something up," he held out his hand, which I placed mine in automatically, and walked up to his front door. He glanced at his driveway. "That okay?"

"Sure," I followed his gaze to see that the Audi from the other day wasn't in the spot it had been previously. However, there was a rusty blue pick up truck in one of the spaces. "Am I allowed inside?"

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because last time you snapped at me when I asked," I reminded him.

"I didn't snap at you," he said, unlocking the front door.

"You most certainly did snap at me," I pulled my hand away from his right clutch so I could fold my arms across my chest. "I think you owe me an apology."

"That was how many days ago, Demi?" He asked, sounding exasperated with his hand resting on the door knob.

"It's never too late to say you're sorry, Aidan," I said wisely.

"I'm sorry, Demi."

I smiled, choosing to ignore the heavy sarcasm coating his tone. "Apology accepted."

He muttered something to himself, as he opened the door. His words had been so quiet that I couldn't catch it, although I'm almost positive they were nothing I considered to be polite.

I followed him into the house and looked around, taking in my surroundings.

The interior of the house was exceptionally unordinary. I was greeted to a wooded landing when I walked in. A straight staircase that led to the second floor was the first thing I saw, and to the immediate left of the staircase was the living room area.

There were two aging, green couches set up, a regular sized TV set, and tables with lamps on them. The floor was a disarray with toys that I guessed were Briella's. The white walls incasing the inside looked like they could do with a touch up, as they were more than a few chips in them.

"It's not much," Aidan said, swinging the door shut. "Sorry for the mess. Briella has a listening problem when it comes time to clean up after herself."