– Is my beautiful neighbour bored?
My playboy roommate's voice made me wince.
– You know, Troy, I'll be sure to order an impenetrable blacktop for my balcony so you don't poke your nose into my territory again," I said in a bored tone and took a sip from my glass of blood. Troy wouldn't understand anyway. I could drink the blood in front of him, but even then, the dumb-ass millionaire wouldn't recognise that it wasn't red wine in my glass.
– Are you telling me that you're just lying there on your outdoor balcony, in nothing but sexy underwear? – Troy replied languidly.
I looked up at him, his lustful gaze caressing my beautiful white body.
– It's not underwear, Troy. It's a dressing gown," I said calmly.
A black silk dressing gown. Open. Underneath it, there is a red silk lingerie.
– When are you going to invite me to your place? I'm tired of being just a listener.
– If I want to sleep with you, I'll let you know. But I'm afraid that will never happen. You're not my type, boy," I said tiredly. – Now get out and leave me alone, or I'll get angry.
How annoying he is, that idiot. Every time I walk past him, he licks himself like a narcissistic, petted cat.
– Leave you alone? – he smiled wryly. – Maria, you know you want it yourself. And I'm always at your disposal.
– Yes, yes, I know. Is that it? Good night, Troy.
– Good night, tiger.
"Bitch," he muttered, not knowing I could hear him.
– 'I'm, '" I said with a wry smile.
His face grew serious for a moment, but then, sure that I had commented on his 'tigress' comment, he winked at me and walked away, slamming the door to the balcony loudly behind him.
"We need to move out of this crazy house. Everything would be fine if it weren't for the neighbours… Maybe I should buy a house, somewhere in the provinces? But not too far from Toronto… Damn, those nasty people are everywhere. Where can I hide from them?" – I thought wistfully as I sipped my glass of blood.
***
People. They're everywhere. Standing there with their mouths open, staring at us. That day.
– I'm sorry, Mrs. Mroczek. I'm terribly late.
I turn my head to the right.
He's looking at me.
Brandon Grayson.
"I hate you so much!" – flashes through my head.
He smiles charmingly, and then his attention is completely consumed by the wedding process.
And I stand there, barely concealing a small shiver of disgust and hatred. Feeling like I've been dunked in a tub of shit and forced to be here, in this damn church, to be a scoffer. I see nothing, hear nothing and feel nothing. I just want to get the hell out of here. To run out of the church screaming in disgust. Screaming how much I hate that son of a bitch. Scream loud enough to drown out the murmurings of the world. But I humbly remain in my seat until the end of the wedding ceremony. I am weak. No, I'm just not there anymore. I'm gone.
***
– I really like this shot, but that tourist ruined everything that could be ruined. – I sighed irritably, showing my model the ruined shot.
A bloody stranger in a bright yellow jacket had unexpectedly and unexpectedly appeared in the frame at the very moment I pressed the button. And now, behind the beautiful Aisa, his bloody jacket was a distinct ugly yellow stain. But, noticing that his presence was clearly spoiling our photo shoot, the hapless tourist hurried away.
– I'm sorry, but you'll have to take another pose in the same spot. – I looked at the girl. – I'm sorry, I know you're cold, but this is very important.
