^^^ = Arlin Fairburn
Hot daaang.
(You guys should watch The Vampire Diaries because you'll get to see both ^ and Damon's beautiful faces)
Okay on with the story.
|/|/\|\|
"Arlin Fairburn, 24. He's tall with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and facial hair. Here's a picture of him." She pulls up a picture of him on her computer, and sure enough, he fits her description perfectly.
Except she forgot to mention how good looking he was.
Why do all the good looking guys have to be involved in this type of shit?
"I can see you drooling from here."
My gaze snaps up to the glass door of Hermione's office, and sure enough, Drayden is staring right at me with a smirk on his face.
I not-so-subtly roll my eyes at him, putting a hand on my hip, a smirk playing on my face. "I wasn't drooling."
"Oh, puh-lease. You so were," he says, walking further into the office.
"This is confidential information, Drayden," I look down to Hermione and she has a hand up with a stern look on her face. "You can't be here."
He rolls his eyes and continues into the room, despite Hermione's warnings. "Babydoll, my father is head president of this facility," he responds, hands gesturing around us. "I'll do what I want." He leans in close to her and twirls her curly light brown hair in his fingers.
"Stop being such a flirt, we're actually trying to work here."
Drayden stops what he's doing and looks up at me. "Is someone jealous?"
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and look directly into his eyes, challenging him. He walks over towards me and smirks, reaching up for my hair as well, but I smack his hand down. "Do you have a hair fetish or something? And no, I'm not jealous. We have work to do, so if you don't mind..." I twist out of his grasp and lean back down to the computer Hermione is currently typing in.
"You know you love me, Adelaide."
I turn to look back up at him, taking notice his hazel eyes. He has a smile on his face instead of a smirk, and I raise my eyebrows in question, but then shake my head. "It's hard not to," I say jokingly, but I know he can tell there was some truth behind my words.
Leaning down to my ear, he whispers, "You just love playing hard to get." He pulls back to a standing position and goes back to his old self, smirking and all.
"Oh, and by the way," he yells on his way out of the door. "I've seen him at Hallers before. Good luck, he's a catch." He winks at me, then closes the door behind him, while I look down at Hermione with raised brows.
|/|/\|\|
"Move," I mutter under my breath at an older man with a messy grey balding head. He turns to look up at me with furrowed brows.
"Hey." He points a shaky finger at me, and his nasty breath hits my neck. "Aren't you that girl from the oatmeal commercial?"
"No, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Excuse me," I respond, quickly shuffling out of his way.
I continue walking through the massive crowd of people, finally arriving at the bar. Sitting down on one of the worn-out black stools, I wave a bartender down.
"Water, please."
In response, he gives me a weird look but leaves to get me what I asked for. I know I'm at a club, so it would only be natural for me to drink, but I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol, and for me, there's absolutely no point to it.
"Here's your water." The bartender extends a glass cup to me, and I gratefully take it. It's hot in here, even with the small amount of clothing I'm wearing.
I glance down at my skimpy outfit, immediately regretting letting Hermione pick it out. She had insisted though, and it was hard to say no to my best friend. She never wore revealing things to work, but when it came to going out, she was all about show without shame.
The shirt is made up of tiny silver sequins which makes everything around me glitter. It has a loose v-neck, which shows off my entire upper breasts. I feel like they're about to fall out every five seconds. The strap wraps around my neck, but then the fabric stops and doesn't start again until my lower back.
Hermione also told me to wear a pair of ripped black jeans, and they're really cute. Along with the rest of the outfit, I ended up wearing black high-heels, because heels are my thing.
"You'd think I would have seen a beauty like you around here before."
My head swivels to the left, as I come face to face with a man a few years older than me with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and facial hair.
This was easier than expected. I didn't even have to look for him myself.
I bat my eyelashes at him, playing along. "It's my first time here."
Liar.
"Water?" Arlin asks me, gesturing towards the glass cup in front of me. "C'mon Love." As he speaks, the hair on my arms rise. Did I mention he had a British accent?
No? Well, he does.
And it's so hot.
"Why don't I get you a real drink?"
Flagging down one of the waiters, he manages to get some type of alcoholic drink for both him and I.
I smile bashfully and raise the glass to my lips, hesitantly taking small sips. As the alcohol burns my throat, I internally cringe. The taste is disgusting, the feeling is disgusting.
It is disgusting.
I hate it.
But unfortunately for me, a good chunk of my job requires acting, and in order to put on a good show, you have to do stuff you don't want to.
I set the glass down and eye him up and down seductively, my eyes suggesting how bad I want to rip his clothes off right here, right now.
Part lie, part truth.
He seems to get the hint, but ignores it, looking back down at his drink. "Where are you from?"
I look down to my drink, and hesitate, but only for a split second. "Berith," I reply, uninterested anymore. I have to get him alone. I really don't want to cause a commotion with everyone around us.
"How long?"
I raise a brow, looking up at him to find his gaze already set on me. "Why so interested?"
"I just like to know what type of people live in this small town of yours."
I raise a brow. By the way he's talking, it's as if he isn't from around here. I know that he's obviously lived in England, but I still figured he's at least lived in Berith for a little bit.
Then again, Hermione really didn't give me any background information on him, even though I asked her on multiple accounts. I still can't figure out why she won't tell me.
"I just moved back here," I reply, continuing on with the conversation. "From Georgia." I'm not going to let him know the complete truth.
He takes the information into consideration, and right before I reply, a hard body presses into my back. I turn around, about to tell off whoever it was, when a familiar face smiles down at me.
"Tyl- Teegan," I breathe, almost forgetting about his undercover name. I wasn't expecting him, but I'm just thankful that he's here.
"Hey shortcake," he replies using my nickname, then glances over at Arlin. "Who's this?"
I turn back to Arlin, with a fake look of surprise on my face. "I never got your name!" I squeal, instantly regretting it. Arlin looks back at me with a face of confusion, while I attempt to maintain a surprised look on my face.
"Arlin," he replies, dipping his head.
I smile bashfully at him, and respond with a shy, "I'm Felaide." It's a modified(ish) version of my actual name, 'Adelaide.' Hermione came up with it for me when I first joined the UA. "It's a pleasure to meet you." I bat my eyelashes at him.
"The pleasure is all mine," he replies, eyeing Tyler standing behind me.
"Oh. This is Teegan," I tell him, gesturing to Tyler behind me. He looks at him with interest, and Tyler smiles back in response.
I'm about to open my mouth and start another conversation when a sweaty body bumps into my side, while a very cold drink spills onto, and down my shirt.
"What the hell?" I throw my hands up and turn to look at the girl who spilled the drink. She's wearing tall heels with a skimpy dress, her hair is an absolute mess, and she has makeup smeared all over her face.
"Oops," she replies, looking down to my shirt, then giggles. "I'm Hayley," she says, still dancing to the loud beat.
I ignore her introduction, instead looking back to the seat beside of me, where Arlin is sitting.
Well, was sitting.
I turn to look at Tyler, and his eyes go wide as he realizes our target has disappeared. "I'll get him. Stay here if he comes back."
"Got it," I respond as he disappears into the large crowd of people.
|/|/\|\|
"How was work?" My Grams asks as soon as I walk through the door.
Terrible, actually. We lost our target and I had to go back to UA with the embarrassing news.
Quite a shocker, since I never fail in assassinating people.
I guess there's always a first for something.
I give her a look, and she lets down her act. "Oh, I'm sorry. How was it? Killing people and all."
"It was great, Grams. Thanks for at least attempting to sound concerned."
She wipes her greasy hands on her apron, then reaches to grab a spoon and stir the soup she was making. "I wasn't concerned for you. That's my way of sending my condolences to the families of those you've murdered." She sends me a pointed look of disapproval, then turns back to her soup.
Grams knows of my association with the UA. She has since the beginning. There's no way I could become an undercover assassin with out telling someone. She helped me through it, I guess. I mean, I had Hermione, Tyler, and most of all; Talon, but it was still nice that my Grams knew too.
She hated it at first, and still does. But soon after I told her and after she calmed down, she realized that I really didn't have a choice in the whole matter. And besides, I'm good at what I do.
Do I enjoy it?
Well, I'm still deciding.
"Grams," I whine. "You know I had no choice in this," I say, stomping my foot like a two year old would do.
She looks at me with a look full of doubt before asking me, "When will you ever stop acting like a child?"
I stood there, thinking about it for a minute before replying, "Never."
She just rolls her eyes at me, while I turn around and start heading up the stairs. "Dinner will be ready in twenty!"
"Okay Grams!" I reply. If there's one thing Grams loves more than life itself, it's cooking. She learned when she was a kid, always preparing her family meals and such. Her mother taught her at a young age, and she's loved it ever since. She's the type that can randomly put stuff together and make it taste good.
Once I reach my room, I decide on a cooling ice bath. Twenty minutes will be plenty of time.
After I dry myself off, I slip into a white nike sports bra and black athletic shorts, along with black nike crew socks. I tie my hair up into a messy bun, my frizz already starting to form, even though my hair isn't even fully dry.
I run down the stairs, exclaiming, "And now, for the famous Adelaide Singher!" I slide into the kitchen on my socks, jazz hands and all. "The party has officially arrived!" My Grams looks at me for a few seconds before bursting out into a fit of laughter.
"I think your right, Adelaide."
"About what?" I ask her in curiosity, grabbing a croissant off of the island.
"I don't think you ever will stop acting like a child."
"Grams!" I exclaim, putting a hand over my heart, and pretending to be offended. "How da-"
Across the room, someone clears their throat, and I quickly turn around, wondering who it was. "I should go. I'll see you tomorrow, Grams."
My eyes widen at the man -can I call him a man?- in the corner, sitting on the bench at the far end of the table. He stands up and walks over to the back door, reaching for the handle, while I just stand there.
He's wearing a sleek black business suit, making him look reeeaaalllyy nice.
Ewwwwww. Why did I just say that?
"Eli, we would love it if you would stay for dinner," my Grams interrupts the silence, and I shake my head in a very forceful, 'yes.'
He glances back at me before looking at Grams, and his hand moves away from the doorknob. "I feel like I would be intruding," he speaks, scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness.
My Grams walks by him with a handful of three plates, beginning to set the table. On her way back to the kitchen, she takes the towel off of her shoulder and whacks him in the stomach with it. "Shut up, Eli. We all know you want to stay."
I stifle a laugh as he rolls her eyes at him. "We all know you want him to stay too, Adelaide."
My eyes widen in embarrassment. "Grams!" I exclaim, already feeling my face get red.
How can my face betray me like this?
"Of course I want him to stay. He's my best friend." I explain, stealing a glance at Eli. He smiles at me, and I smile back.
"Finish setting the table, would you? Eli, will you put the croissants on a plate and put them on the table?" My Grams asks, ignoring me.
We do as we're told, and soon enough, we're all sitting around the table, Grams sitting across from Eli and I, who sat on a bench together, because she insisted. Even though there are enough benches for each of us to sit on one.
Grams looks at my chest with a raised brow, as if just seeing that I had one for the first time. I give her a weird look, wondering why she's looking there.
"Are you sure you don't want to put a shirt on, Adelaide?"
I glance down at my chest too, and realize that I'm only wearing a sports bra. Forgot about that.
Wooooow.
Shut up.
You.
Your so immature.
*cough* you *cough* *cough*
While my brain was having a conversation with itself, I turn and respond to Grams. "No, it's okay. I have a pretty toned bod that I tend to show off from time to time." Eli had just put a spoonful of soup in his mouth, and just like that, some of it came back out after a poor attempt of trying not to laugh. And just for good measures, I flexed my arm muscles.
"See what I'm going to have to live with for the next..." My Grams trails off, looking at Eli. "Your never going to move out, are you?" She sets her gaze on me as she blows on her hot soup.
"Nope."
At first, Eli and I didn't talk a lot, but eventually we made small talk, which soon turned into old memories and stories being shared.
It was a good night, that's for sure.