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Rosaline's POV

"Wear them."

"No."

"Just wear the damn thing!"

"Mhmmm no." I smile, crossing my legs under me.

"Stop being difficult you little brat!" He wraps his fist around my collar, slightly lifting me off the bed.

"I don't wanna, it looks itchy." I shake my head as he drops me back on the bed.

"Fine, I'll give you one of my shirts." He sighs and throws the old knit sweater at my face.

"I thought you didn't care if she didn't want your clothes?" Trace leans against the bedroom doorframe.

"I don't, I just don't wanna get woken up in the middle of the night because she changed her mind or somethin' like that." He rolls his eyes.

"You make me sound like a diva."

"I'm sorry, are you not?" He asks sarcastically.

"No."

"Have you met you?"

"Yes I have and I'm wonderful." I nod quickly.

"You made my best friend carry you around the apartment."

"He offered, I wasn't gonna turn that down." I point at Trace as he nods.

"Still."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." Trace raises an eyebrow.

"You can have the spoiled bitch."

Oh hell no.

"I worked hard for everything I have, don't you dare call me spoiled you meat head!"

"Yeah whatever."

"If my ankle wasn't messed up I'd punch you directly in the face."

"Oh look the brat is having a temper tantrum." He mocks.

"Dude I think you better stop, she looks like a psycho kinda girl," Trace advises. "I'm totally into that by the way if you ever wanna... y'know." He winks my way.

"Stop flirting with the cripple hostage." Fitz interrupts.

"Am I really a hostage though, I mean I'm not that bothered being here and no one will come looking for me."

"Not even one person?"

"Nope, I don't have friends."

"You have us," Trace smiles while Fitz raises an eyebrow at him. "Well me."

"Are we really friends though?" I try to say in a sexy tone.

"Um, Fitz quick heads up, I think I wanna stay over tonight." Trace's voice cracks.

"Oh no, I can't deal with the both of you over night, you're going home." Fitz closes the closet with two t-shirts in hand.

"Maybe next time Papì." I giggle, reaching for one of the shirts.

"I shall return my precious little cripple." He spins on his heel out of the room.

"He's such a cutie pie." I mumble to myself.

"I'm sure he is when he's stabbing and shooting people to death." Fitz smirks.

"Yet sadly I'm not one of 'em."

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