COMPLETED - Ezra Miller is the charming ice hockey goalie of every girl's dreams, Sophia Olson a prima ballerina with a feisty mouth and the most flirty spirit. It's no surprise that when these two meet at a bar, sparks fly. It's a simple agreement:...
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The next day I was working at the shop, trying to get an old classic with a broken engine to run again, when Remy's head pops next to the hood, nearly scaring me into bashing his head with a mechanic tool.
"Rémy, for Christ's sake, if you don't want to die, don't sneak up on me while holding a fucking wrench."
He looks at me and holds his hands up. "Not my fault you have a bad conscience, what's up. You have been moody all morning."
He's not wrong there.
For once.
"One word, Alex." I mutter, the agitation in my voice can be heard from miles away.
"Who's Alex?" He frowns, and he's probably thinking Alex's a chick.
"Sophia's ballet partner. He's trying to drive a wedge between us..." I mutter some more, while staying focused on the engine.
I can hear Mills snicker and I just know he's giving me a smug look. "As if that's possible." He snorts.
"I know right, doesn't stop him from trying." I shake my head so much it almost gives me a damn headache.
"I mean what's the point..." My little brother laughs. "Doesn't he know, that if Sophia's done with you, I'm shooting my shot."
Hell no.
I pop my head up and throw him an angry glare. "That's just wrong on so many levels Rém."
"Oh I know." He laughs and I'm hoping he's just joking. I know he is... But he also kind of isn't.
I don't know.
"Paws off... One dog trying to steal my girl is enough." I nod at him, before throwing a dirty cloth at his chest.
Throwing it back at me he laughs. "Be careful or you'll be in the doghouse again."
"You're probably right," I shake my head low, knowing that if I can't magically find a ticket for tomorrows show somewhere I probably will be. "I fucked up." I mutter.
"When don't you brother." He sighs. "What did you do?"
I shrug, my expression annoyed and strained. "In the midst of all this drama these past weeks, I somehow forgot to buy a ticket for the ballet showcase, and now it's fucking sold-out. I checked the website four times in the past four hours. Sophia's going to kill me if I'm not there. Hell, I'm going to help her burry my own body, because I desperately want to see her do her thing." Somehow, I just went on a full rant.
"Dramatic much." Rémy just stands there, looking at me with a cocked brow. "Can I help dig?" He says dryly.
"Shut the fuck up." I jab his shoulder, but he doesn't budge. "I'm serious, I would do anything for a ticket."
"Regardless of how much I think you fucked up, how much do you imply when you say anything?" He smirks and it's not his usual smirk, it's more knowing and mischievous.
