I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I inwardly cringe at the name. So desperately I wanted to slap the woman and inform her that my name was fucking Eric, thank you very much. I wasn't some random bottom feeder, I was the god damn prince of this lousy country, even if no one wanted to face the fact.
She wouldn't understand though, so instead, I lean forward and act like I care.
"It depends, what story are we talking about?" I give her a charming smile (It was becoming easier and easier to pull off) and lay my palms upwards to look welcoming.
She bit the bait. "Have you heard about Jasmine Walters? Apparently, she was reported missing! And get this! The sheriff claimed she was sleeping around! Now keep this between us, you hear, but I think she was kidnapped!"
Well then, that puts a slight damper on things. Rina may be one person, but she is still part of the public. I need to keep their suspicions off of that topic as long as possible.
I rubbed my chin. "I dunno. Even I've heard the rumors that she slept around quite a lot." I lied, shrugging my shoulders. "I'd give it a bit. I mean, it's only been two days. If I remember correctly, you once ran away with a lover for five, right? Or was it six?"
I let the small threat hang in the air with the guise of an innocent question. Instantly her face flushed, and a small glare was shot my way. Despite that, it looked like she was genuinely pondering that fact.
"I suppose that is true." She turned away from me to look down at the wooden bar she was stationed at. "And it was a week..." She mumbled, assumedly not really said for me.
Looking back, god I wish I had told her to speak up, and enjoyed the torture she went through as she did.
