❝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...
This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs. —Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment (Discworld, #31; Industrial Revolution, #3)
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"My birthday is literally in three weeks Reyna," I sigh, staring at her forlorn face. "Can't you like, make it? Just miss lectures for a couple of days?"
Reyna sighs and the connection isn't as crappy as usual so the audio doesn't crack. "I know, I know. But I really can't, you know. Miss lectures. Plus, even if I can come, I don't have enough money for a ticket and—"
"I can pay for the ticket," I cut her off. "And don't say it's a charity. It's not. It's just me wanting my sister from another mister to be around me when I finally, officially turn into a... woman."
Reyna smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I know. But we both know you're going to have to celebrate your birthday without me being physically there."
I know this but still. I'm desperate. She's literally the only person I can count on to be there. The 'party' Father is throwing is not my scene; ball gowns and flutes of champagne with soft music. Basically just an event to properly introduce me into the fashion industry. Too many business associates. Too many models. Too many top designers.
I need to buy myself a hip flask. And fill it with beer. Because there's no way in hell that I can be sober when talking to a million people at once.
With a sigh, I shrug. "Okay, fine. Then you'll send me my gift, yeah?"
"Well duh," Reyna rolls her eyes fondly. "Although, heads up. You're going to absolutely hate it."
I try not to laugh. "Oh my fuck—"
Someone knocks on my door softly and I roll my eyes. "One moment," I tell Reyna before turning my glare to the door. "What is it now?!"
The door opens and my heart stops as a very familiar jerk walks in, holding a large painting to his chest. He looks tired but the thing is that he also looks gorgeous.
I blink. "What are you doing here?" I can't even be rude because I'm still in shock. The last time I saw Ian? Two days ago at Jameel's art studio. And since then, he never called or texted and I've learned to accept that maybe Ian and I would have been in a friendship or relationship only fated to crash and burn.
"Wait, who is there?" Reyna pipes up and I quickly look down at my laptop again. She looks curious and I glance up at Ian again, who is busy hovering by the door like an escape route.
