by Jenica Saren
“Thank you!” I squealed. “How did you know red was my favourite?” It was down to the shade, I mean wow!
Clove patted my back gently. “It just seemed like a good fit, dear. Now let’s get this all on the bed, and I’ll get out of your hair so you can sleep.”
I nodded my agreement a little hastily and got to work immediately. “This house must have a dozen bedrooms. Why’d you give me this one?” I was actually thinking the question to myself, but it came out of my physical mouth instead of my mental one.
“It just seemed more your style, little star.” She said sweetly. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to explore the place, I’m just not claiming any responsibility for what you find.” She started chuckling softly to herself.
My interest was certainly peaking as we folded the comforter over the top sheet. “What’s in the other rooms?”
Clove started laughing quietly again and took a moment to answer. “Just furniture and nothing that pays rent.” She said with a wink in my direction. I started giggling too, because I wasn’t paying rent either.
We finished with the bed and Clove wrote her phone number in the notebook she gave me before taking off with strict instructions for me to sleep. Of course, I didn’t waste a single second, and I curled up between the sheets and passed out.
4
Ria
When I opened my eyes, I barely even realized where I was, and it took a moment for my brain to catch up with my vision. I could see soft moonlight filtering through the leaves above, and it very delicately lit the rest of the bedroom. It almost looked like something out of a fairytale. I stretched beneath my covers and then slipped out of bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so long or so late, but I felt renewed and refreshed.
My stomached decided then was the time to make its presence known, and I tried to think about any food places that I may have seen in town. I still had to get ready for Drea’s birthday party, and I didn’t particularly feel like going all the way back into town just to double back. Then I remembered that Clove had said something about food in the fridge before she left, and my stomach gurgled out a victory shout.
Down girl, I have to actually get to the kitchen first.
I opened my door and peeked down the hallway, getting an eerie feeling of not being alone. It was an old house, and the night probably just made it seem haunted. Besides, ghosts weren’t a real thing. So, I pushed on, tiptoeing down the stairs carefully so I didn’t trip and turn into a ghost myself. As I reached the ground floor, I heard a creak and jumped what felt like half a mile into the air.
Calm your tits, dude! It’s just the floor of an old house, now put your big girl thong on and get your ass in gear. My inner self wasn’t pleased with my scaredy cat shenanigans and took to chastising me in her silken pajamas; the look on her face said she wasn’t in the mood to take any shit and going back to sleep was a perfectly feasible option. No way. Nuh-uh. This girl needed food before getting trashed at a karaoke birthday bash, and oversleeping did absolutely nothing for potential wrinkles.
I took a deep breath and pushed on, guided by the moonlight and warm glow coming from the kitchen. I stepped through the arched walkway and saw that the hood light was on over the stovetop. Had it been that way when I came through? I didn’t think so, but Clove might’ve turned it on, anticipating my vampiric rise from the dead after dark.
Shrugging, I opened the left door on the huge fridge and perused the contents. Milk, eggs, biscuits, a random assortment of fruits and vegetables, some thawed steaks, and a few six packs. My sweet, possibly psychotic landlady didn’t really seem the type to crack open a cold one, but she was a stranger after all. Who knew?
I grabbed the eggs and located a slab of bacon, deciding that you could never go wrong with breakfast food when you’ve just woken up. I heard another random creak and jumped again. I reopened the fridge and grabbed one of the beers, deciding that you can never go wrong with alcohol when you’re acting like a dumbass in a haunted/non-haunted house. As I closed the fridge door, I could have swore I saw a man standing behind it. I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“What the actual fuck?” A rich, baritone voice said directly in front of me. I popped my eyes open and screamed like I’ve never screamed before, moving to turn and run for a drawer with knives, but I twisted too fast and found myself falling. Turning mid-fall to catch myself, I landed against something soft and warm, my cheek pressed against the object.
Bright lights flashed on overhead, and I heard scuffling and swearing from all directions. I moved to lift my head and felt my face turn from warm, to hot, to flaming, to a burning inferno with the intensity of a California forest fire.
A dick. I landed on a dick.
I squealed and was on my feet, scuttling backward before you could say “penis”. I kept backing up, my eyes squeezed shut, until I backed against a body. Warm, large hands gripped my shoulders and spun me around, and when I opened my eyes, I was suddenly pretty sure that I had screamed myself straight to heaven when I found He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in bed with The Wicked Witch of the West Coast. You must be wondering why, so I’ll go ahead and kill the suspense.
Suddenly, I was staring into the face of an actual, living and breathing angel. He had hair that was a seamless meld from bronze to gold, tousled as though he had just rolled out of bed, his eyes a fierce and intense silver that appeared to shine like headlights in the dark, and a strong, squared off jaw that every Superman actor would die for. It had just enough stubble to look rough, yet well maintained.
I found myself going slack-jawed and wide eyed, and seriously considered saying a few Hail Marys.
“Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our house?” The angel practically growled the questions and his voice sent some very non-angelic, but very heavenly tingles straight to some very exciting places. I still found myself unable to speak and he started glowering at me, seeming to analyze me, but in a way that seemed to ask if I was mentally slow.
“Can she even speak?” A very melodic, quiet voice asked to my right.
“She can certainly scream.” Another voice replied lazily behind me. I recognized it as the voice that started this whole mess. The penis.
Something seemed to click inside my very flustered, confused brain. Unfortunately, my rational inner self appeared to be momentarily absent, so the next word out of my mouth was probably something that would haunt me to my grave.
“A-angel!” I blurted, my mouth suddenly deciding that consent to speak no longer applied.
I heard a snort to my right. “Oh, it does speak.” The voice was clipped with a light accent, like someone born in England, but raised around Americans.
The specimen before me looked like he’d been splashed with cold water, looking surprised and disturbed. He blinked slowly, never taking his shining eyes off me. “Angel?” He repeated, slowly, as if not to frighten me. I nodded once, deciding to roll with whatever madness my mouth was spewing without my consent, and his lips turned up at the corners. “Listen sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning toward me. We were nearly nose to nose, and I could smell something like burnt sugar and bourbon. It was intoxicating. “I’m no angel.”
He suddenly released my shoulders and simultaneously shoved me – not too hard – sending me stumbling backward. Luckily, the only thing I backed into this time was the breakfast bar. Which furnished a very sturdy, heavy looking wooden vase thing. I grabbed it quickly and spun to meet the strangers that had turned my night on its head, brandishing it like a powerful weapon.
“Okay,” I said, probably a little too shrilly. “Here’s what’s going to happen: one of you, and I don’t care who, is going to tell me who the fuck you are and what in god’s good name is going on here.” I felt strong and sure, despite being basically stuck in front of… One… Two… Three… Four… Five. Five very large, very muscled, very… Manly men.
Sexy. The word you’re looking for is sexy. And my inner self was back. Brin
g some testosterone into the room, and BAM! There she was, bright eyed and her bushy trimmed.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Said a voice I had heard earlier. I sought out his face and found a very handsome man looking back at me. He appeared refined, yet edgy with his mane of chestnut hair pulled back, a few strands hanging around his face. He looked Russian, with his angular face structure, five o’clock shadow, deep amber coloured eyes, and built but slim physique. “We’re just as confused as you are.” He continued on with a small, friendly smile, his soft, melodic voice lulling me into a surely false sense of security.
“And pissed.” The British guy interjected. I glanced from guy to guy before finding him standing behind the rest of the group. I couldn’t clearly make out his face from where he was standing, but the splash of dirty blonde hair would have to serve as a temporary reminder.
The man in front of him spoke next. “It’s not every day you find a chick in your kitchen, in nothing but a t-shirt.” His voice was like honey, and I was the ant. I certainly felt like an ant; the guy was massive. He was built like a bear, and thanks to his lack of a shirt, I could see every single one of his defined muscles. He had short, wavy, hair in a brown so dark that reminded me of pure, unsweetened cocoa, and his eyes were a perfect ocean blue. He looked like he ate people for fun. More specifically, he looked like he wanted to eat me, and only halfway for fun.
I attempted to take a cautious step back, suddenly realizing the terrifying predicament I was in, only to be reminded that I was pressed tightly against the granite countertop. I brandished my wooden vase dangerously, as though it would fend off five men. My head whipped from side to side, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get out of this literal hot mess, when my weapon was suddenly plucked from my hand. I jolted and spun around, facing the other side of the breakfast bar to find the weapon thief.
Attached to the wooden vase was an arm littered with tattoos. “That’s mine.” The face attached to the arm growled. His dark hair was combed back in a sort of retro wave style, and his brown eyes couldn’t have been glaring at me harder if they tried. He reminded me of the main character of a steamy Spanish soap opera I watched one time, just with way more ink.
And of course, my brain finally registered that six men was just way too much for my five-foot-two frame to handle, so I attempted a mad dash for the doorway–
And fell flat on my face.
I heard a collective groan sound around the room as I lay on the floor, trying to either gather the courage to get up, or the patience to feign death.
“Okay, I’m out.” Said the British voice.
There was a shuffling of multiple sets of feet and the room felt lighter. Actually, I felt lighter. Like, really light. Because I was being lifted off the floor.
I squealed loudly and very girlishly, struggling to get free. When my basic struggling proved to be generally useless, I started slamming my fists against the torso of whichever giant was hauling me around.
“Would you just stop?” The giant asked. “You’re not exactly causing damage, but I’d really hate to fall down the stairs with you.” The dick. No really, it was the guy whose penis I landed on. He turned me so that I was actually facing a direction in which I could see, and I only halfway regretted it.
He was seriously gorgeous and looked kinda like one of those punk kids that used to hang out at the skatepark in my old town. His hair was cropped short on the sides and long up top, with the rich blue-black marred by a vibrant purple that covered the long part. He had a spiked stud in the middle of his lower lip, and a bar through his eyebrow. His eyes were probably the most heart-meltingly beautiful hazel I had ever seen in my entire life, with greens, browns, and golds that seemed to be both warring with each other and peacefully coexisting.
I realized that I must have been staring at him for entirely too long to be considered socially acceptable, because he looked down at me with one studded eyebrow raised.
I also know that I must have turned my favourite colour, because my cheeks were on fire and my inner self was giving me a cheeky grin. “Um,” I began eloquently. “Hi?”
The giant shot me a lopsided grin as he pushed through my bedroom door and set me down on my feet, where I wobbled for a brief second before finding my balance again. “Hi.” He replied, still looking at me with his goofy grin. He extended a hand out to me. “I’m Beck.”
I cautiously gripped his hand in return. “I’m Ria.” I replied, trying to sound a lot less confused and afraid for my life than I actually was. I mean, his hand was huge. What were they putting in the water out here?
Beck nudged his way past me and sat down on the edge of my bed. “So, from the top.” He demanded lightly. I must have looked even more confused than I felt because he patted the bed next to him and explained, “who you are, why you’re here, etcetera.”
I meandered to the side of the bed where my head would rest and pulled my knees to my chest. Beck’s gaze averted downward and I shifted my shirt to tuck under my toes. “Well, my name is Ria, I needed a change of scenery after a break up, and my apparently insane landlady offered me this place while also managing to forget to tell me I had roommates.” I rambled everything off very shortly, trying to avoid telling the smoking hot guy at the foot of my bed my entire life story.
Beck looked thoughtful for a moment and then stood up. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then, and I’ll have one of the guys talk to Clove.” He muttered something else under his breath and it took me a second to work it out.
Crazy old bat.
I chuckled quietly and immediately grew somber again. “So, uh,” I started. “Sorry. About earlier, I mean.” I gestured to his general personage.
He grinned again, almost wickedly this time. “I’ll get even with you one day, roomie.” I could actually feel the lump in my throat I was trying to swallow. “But right now, I need that midnight snack that you so rudely interrupted.” And then he was gone, door closed, nothing but the smell of peppermint remaining.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I looked at my phone for the time and saw that it was well past time to be ready and out the door. So, I had two options:
I could haul ass to the coffee shop and support my only real friend in town, or I could stick around here and try not to have waking nightmares of six guys roasting me on a spit. Well, five, because Beck actually seemed pretty nice. However, that mental image was enough to get my ass in gear, hunting through my bags and brushing my hair into something that resembled a fashionable style. I hunted around for my car keys and took off down the stairs, taking care not to stumble in my unreasonable choice of footwear.
Once I reached the bottom, I cautiously looked around for any immediate threats – mostly in the form of anything having a penis – and saw Beck at the breakfast bar with two bags of chips and several bowls of dip. Speaking of penises. He gave me a brief wave before I was out the door, out the driveway, and halfway out of my damn mind.
5
Ria
The drive from the house and back into town was quick and uneventful. It was all kind of a blur though, because I’m pretty sure my brain hasn’t entirely worked out the whole situation with my very unexpected roommates… Who, incidentally, were also not expecting me. Yay.
I circled around to the back of the coffee shop to find a parking spot, but all of the spaces were filled. At least I knew where the popular hangout was. I was about two seconds away from deciding to park down the street when a flash of white caught my eye. I turned my attention to the distraction and couldn’t help the brief laugh that escaped me; it was a handwritten sign in an empty parking space that read: newbie parking.
I could practically feel Drea’s satisfaction as I pulled into the space. It was pretty obvious that I was the only newbie in town, and I found it a little endearing that she had reserved the spot for me without even knowing for sure that I would show up. But honestly, who was I to pass up a party?
I wrapped my lit
tle black bomber jacket around my shoulders as I stepped out of the cozy warmth of my car and into the cold night air, making a mad dash for the front door. Okay, this building was surprisingly big, and it was entirely too chilly. I rounded the corner and pushed through the cheerfully jingly door like a madwoman, trying not to stumble over the multiple rugs again. I had to stop for a second while my eyes adjusted to the scene before me.
As opposed to how the shop had been when I had arrived in the morning, the place was completely full to the brim and resembled an actual, low budget nightclub. The lights had been turned down low, and colourful spotlights and slow-moving lasers now filled the space. The music wasn’t as loud as it was in the clubs I’d worked at, but it was certainly loud enough to enjoy while conversing. I scanned the scattered tables for my friend, but it was pretty hard to see with such low lighting.
“Ria!” I heard from my left. I turned toward the sound of Drea’s voice, trying to find her mane of curly hair in the crowd. Suddenly, I felt my wrist being ensnared, and I was being dragged through the mess of bodies and mismatched furniture. “We’re sitting over here.” Drea hollered unnecessarily. The music seriously wasn’t that loud, otherwise I was going deaf prematurely. That thought had me getting a little paranoid, so I started trying to catch pieces of conversations as we passed different groups.
“If I go home and show them this grade, I’m deader than dead.” One girl was complaining.
“She’s still in an induced coma, so they’re not sure…”
