❝You think we're going to live happily ever after? Newsflash: I'm not a fucking princess, you're no prince and this fucked up thing between us is not a fairy tale.❞
Ian raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst. ❝Fairy tales can be...
In the fairy tale you mentioned last night, I would probably be the villain. But it's possible the villain would treat you far better than the prince would have. —Lisa Kleypas, Tempt Me At Twilight (The Hathaways, #3)
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"IF I CAN LIVE THROUGH THIS, IF I CAN LIVE THROUGH THI-IS, IF I CAN LIVE THROUGH THIS; I CAN DO ANY—"
My door slams open without preamble, startling Ian and I as we try (and spectacularly fail) to hit a particularly high note in the song, Champion by Fall Out Boy.
Ian and I don't really have similar tastes in music. Whereas I'm a girl addicted to anything rap, Ian is completely infatuated with metal. While I prefer listening to Kanye West and Kendrick Lamar, Ian prefers killing his eardrums with Metallica and Black Sabbath.
But hey. After arguing for about thirty minutes on why several fandoms are better than the other, we both discovered that we share a fandom; we are both Fall Out Boy fans. Certified Youngbloods in the making. And since we came to that conclusion about fifteen minutes ago, we've been singing (actually, shouting in my case and croaking in Ian's case) along with Patrick Stump through random songs of theirs.
I groan as I face the person glaring at Ian and I with confusion and irritation dancing on his facial features. "Father. What have I told you about knocking?"
Father doesn't even spare me a look not to talk of an answer. He turns to look at someone behind him and I blink as I see Juliet whatsherrealname standing behind him. "I thought you said Scarlett was in here with a delinquent having extremely loud sex."
At his absurd words, I turn to face Ian with wide eyes. "Is this what sex looks like?"
Ian's cheeks are red but it's obvious that he's trying not to laugh. He coughs quietly. "I did tell you that you sound like you're having an exaggerated orgasm anytime you try to hit a high note."
I smirk at the implication of his words. "Only you would know how an exaggerated orgasm sounds."
Ian's amused look drops as he glares at the smirk on my face. "Do not even."
Father gets particularly loud. Ian and I reluctantly return our attention back to him.
"Unless this," Father shouts, pointing at Ian and I's innocent forms, "Is what kids call sex these days, then I don't know why I'm here and not currently at my office working on my new clothing line!"
Juliet flushes, ignoring my glare in favor of looking down at her shoes. Oh, what a fucking snitch. "I'm very sorry Mr Anderson. It won't happen again."
She quickly runs off and I frown. Oh goodness, that particular maid is getting on my nerves. Does she want to be fired?
Father slowly turns to face Ian. "And you, delinquent in cheap black," he says rudely and I'm suddenly reminded that there's a reason why I'm his daughter and why sometimes, DNA tests are not necessarily needed. "Who are you?"
