Jasmine's POV
We stare at each other for a while.
"You paint?" She breaks the silence, her gaze shifting to the exposed canvas sitting on the easel.
"Yes"
My eyes follow her. She walks towards the painting, stopping at one to run a finger over the lines of the broken black rose.
"It's not about heart break or death…is it?" She starts, her eyes still fixed on the canvas.
Her finger taps on the fallen petals.
And slowly traces the colourful flowers around the rose.
"Everything blooms perfectly around it. What story are you telling?" She finally looks at me.
"You don't paint for fun, do you?" She asks, scanning my face for a response.
"You hardly talk. I knew there was something different about you on the field."
She tips the painting off, making it fall with a loud thud.
I clench my hands tightly, still watching her.
"Oops, I'm clumsy around things that aren't mine. Someday I'll learn to be careful" she smiles, approaching me, only to stop inches away.
"This advice goes for the both of us" With that, she shoves me and walks away.
Immediately she shuts the door, I pick up my painting, thankful that nothing was damaged.
Both Xavier and his girlfriend are totally insane.
............
Loud music blasting off the speakers shakes me from my sleep.
I sit up abruptly, the smell of alcohol hitting my nose. Rising from the bed, I turn on the switch and check the time.
3:20AM.
It's midnight.
Did Xavier choose to extend his party here?
I open the door, the music hits me louder. There are about five people in the living room.
Two guys are passed out on the floor, a guy and a girl are drunkenly making out on the couch, the music drowning their moans.
The last girl is just smoking, her eyes are bloodshot.
Where the fuck is Xavier?
I bang on his room door, no one answers.
Forcefully pushing it open, I shut it immediately at the sight of a girl shamelessly riding some guy.
He's not in his room either.
Did he leave me with drunk strangers at the apartment?
My eyes shoot to my studio. Strangely, nothing is out of place, as if they were strictly warned to not bypass.
But this doesn't make me feel any better.
Walking into the kitchen, I see him.
He is alone with a plastic cup in hand, scrolling through his phone.
"Xavier! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I bark.
My hands immediately settle on my hip.
He looks up, unbothered.
"Just a little after party" he dismisses, returning to his phone.
Without thinking, I snatch his phone away.
"You want to smash this one too?" He taunts.
I can't tell if he's drunk, but he articulates quite clearly.
"Tell them to get out now" I growl.
"It's midnight, they'll leave by daybreak. Can I have my phone?" He asks calmly.
I feel all my veins popping.
How did I end being roommates with this reckless, entitled prick?
I cross my arms, glaring at him.
"You know these people aren't supposed to be here. This is against the rules" I fire.
"The rules that you set"
"Either ways, rules are rules"
"I don't remember promising to stick to them. Besides, rules are meant to be broken" he smirks.
"My studio could have been trashed"
"Is it?"
Something about the way he's calm ignites something in me. I just feel like pulling off all his hair.
"I don't know how I ended up living with someone like you"
"Someone like me? You hate that people are having a little fun? Or do you hate that they are celebrating with me unlike you?" Something in his tone shifts, his expressions are no longer readable.
He rubs is temple before continuing,
"You should be thanking me that no one's touching your precious paintings"
"You know what you sound like? Someone that sets a fire and seeks gratitude for not letting something burn. You sound stupid" I shoot, my pulse spiking.
I've had enough. It's barely a week since I moved in, and I'm already mentally drained.
His eyes darken, his face totally devoid of his signature smirk.
Is he drunk?
Cause I don't know what to expect from a drunk Xavier when he isn't even a nice person while sober.
"Stupid?" He scoffs, stepping close, the air between us suddenly heavy.
I glare up at him, unshaken by the close proximity.
"Yes. You think this is normal?"
"Okay" his voice drops low,
"You think I give a fuck about what's normal?"
He takes another step, forcing me to retreat until my lower back hits the kitchen counter. He plants his hand on the counter, on either side of my waist.
The sudden heat radiating from his body fills the air with a mix of his cologne, and a sharp scent of whiskey.
"You've spent the last few days judging me like you are the only person with something to lose" he murmurs, his face inches from mine.
"Do you think you are so perfect, Jasmine?"
"I never said I was perfect." I breathe out, the music drowning my loud heart beats.
"Just follow the damn rules, and we'll live just fine"
His smile returns to his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Rules again? You are so obsessed with control and perfection. Life isn't all about that. Loosen up"
I follow his gaze, and my breath hitches knowing that they are on my lips, before he snaps them back to my eyes.
"And you think you know me?" I shoot,
"I don't" he pauses, peering into my soul.
"But I want to." Something flickers in his eyes.
"You are too reckless to understand me"
"See. You think I'm shallow, because I couldn't grasp the meaning behind that painting. You probably think I'm dumb too, and the only thing I'm good at is rugby.
You judge hard Jasmine. Stop feeding yourself with lies"
"That's not how I perceive you" I defend.
"Liarrr" he draws out the word, leaning in until our noses graze.
I should push him away, and return to my room.
But my body remains frozen on the spot.
Slowly, his gaze settles on my lips again. My chest heaving. He tilts his head, his thumb twitching on the counter, his dark eyes still holding mine.
I find myself lost in them, like I'm under a spell.
Nothing feels right or wrong.
Am I drunk on his alcohol?
Tentatively, his eyes flutter shut as he closes in on the final inch between us….