| |
It had been a long day, Chloe’s feet hurt, it had started raining while she was waiting for the bus, and the only empty seat was next to Mr. Wicked. Chloe sat down next to him with a sigh. “Just my luck.”
Sinfully handsome, with natural golden hair streaked with wheat, thin and wiry, with the square shoulders and narrow hips of a gymnast, Mr. Wicked had a gold hoop in one ear and wore t- shirts with the names of cool bands splashed across his chest.
She knew him from her job at the Purple Door, a metaphysical coffee bar and bookstore. His eyes, brilliant blue, long lashed and incredibly sexy, slid over her in a mocking way whenever she took his money. Dark winged brows, like an evil elfI’s, arched in amusement when she fumbled his change. He was around her age, mid- twenties, but somehow, he seemed much older. Dangerous, Chloe thought, with his knowing smile for many of the girls.
Once he purchased a bunch of black candles. Up to some black magic, she was sure. Now she was sitting an inch away from him. He was even more handsome up close, with flawless skin, high cheek bones, full pink lips and a square jaw. Quickly, she looked away, before he could catch her looking at him. She wished she was pretty and exotic, wearing a floaty black gauze top and leather pants. The type of girl he would look at. However, she was just plain old Chloe in tan slacks and a neat blue blouse, with her ordinary light brown hair pulled back into a scrunchy, and no makeup.
Maybe I should start. The thought of self improvement was not completed.
Thunder roared. There was a flash of lightening, a jerk, and everything went black.