Rose's POV

With an over-exaggerated sigh, I throw myself dramatically onto my new bed, face down. A small chuckle erupts from my roommate's throat. I've known her for two seconds and I'm already certain we'll get along. I can't see her face, but I know Lissa Dragomir is amused at my theatrics; especially when I hear her next words.

"If you're tired now, I can't imagine how you'll feel once classes start."

I groan, pushing my face harder into the mattress. "Don't remind me. As if fifteen years of pure torture weren't enough, now we have to endure another four."

"Well, it's a good thing we have all weekend to mentally prepare, then."

I can tell she's moving around and I risk a peak at her. Lissa is gorgeous. Anyone else would undoubtedly feel threatened by her beauty. Her jade-like eyes and pale blonde hair give her an ethereal quality that immediately catches people's attention. But I know my sensual curves and thick chocolate strands are just as effective and have men drooling all over and following my every command.

Together, we'll become legends at Lehigh.

"What is there to do around here, anyway?" I grumble, my voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

"I'm glad you asked," a devilish grin crosses her face while she wraps a bright green scarf around her neck that matches her eyes. I lift myself to a sitting position, my curiosity piqued. She finally sits next to me on the bed, with as much grace as a ballerina. "There's this gallery opening tonight-" I make a face and she laughs. "No, no, nothing like that. It's this hip underground club that everyone goes to. They're closing it for the night to display the artist's work, and it's invite only."

"How did you manage to score an invite?"

She grins, her voice filled with pride. "I know the artist."

I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a try. "What's it called?"

"Shadow kiss."

What an odd name for a club. "Fine, I'll go. But if they start playing some kind of lame jazz music in the background I'm out of there."

She squeals and pulls me in for a hug. "You won't regret it."

I tell Lissa I'll meet her there, since I'm hoping to drag my boyfriend, Dimitri, with me. We've been together for almost a full year. We met while I was still in high-school. He was already teaching European History at Lehigh and tutoring some of the girl's at my school on the side. He's not a fan of the whole social scene, though. He's seven years older than me, though sometimes it feels like twenty. He'd take curling up at home with a western novel and a glass of wine over going out and facing real life problems any day. I used to find his antisocial ways sexy as hell, but living in a bubble has never been my thing.

Not that we had an option at the time. We couldn't be seen together because I was underage at the time. I thought things might change when I turned eighteen, but even now he insists on keeping it a secret, saying it won't look good to date a student. Me? I could care less about what anyone thinks.

I come by his office, as eager as ever to see him. I frown when I realize the door is locked. Odd. I knock a couple of times but there's no answer. I'm about to leave when I hear shuffling. "Dimitri?" I ask uncertainly through the door. "It's me, Rose." Duh. Who else?

After what seems like an eternity, he opens the door. He's breathless, his hair slightly disheveled. "Roza- I was taking a nap."

I walk past him, not waiting for him to invite me in. An uneasiness sweeps through me, but I push it aside. "There's this thing tonight. I wanted you to be my date." I turn to him and I notice the door is still ajar. I look at him quizzically but his features are hardened and he's avoiding my gaze. There's no trace of the loving man I've grown to love the past year. He seems... distant. Guarded. That's when I notice it.

"Your shirt,"

"What about it?" he tenses.

"It's inside out." I say carefully. I start to reach for him and he cowers.

What the fuck?

"You should go," he begins in a low voice. "I told you we can't be seen in public together."

"We should at least talk about this, I don't think I can-"

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm tired, you need to go."

I'm taken aback by his harshness, but I brush it off like every woman in love would.

"Listen, Comrade." I begin, using the affectionate nickname that usually helps thaw the ice. "I don't care if you had a bad day, that's no way to treat a-"

"Damn it, Rose. For once in your life, will you listen to me? Just get the fuck out."

Tears threaten to fall. "Why are you being so..."

"Go."

I'm suddenly filled with an array of emotions. But mostly, I feel cheap and disposable. I would've given him an earful if it weren't for the pool of tears forming in my chocolate orbs. Instead, I settle for giving him the most hateful look I can muster before stomping out of his office, slamming the door on my way out. Childish perhaps, but necessary.

I order the tears away. My mother always taught me not to shed any tears for men. "They aren't worth it," she assured me once.

I know I can't exactly jump to conclusions here. I'm sure there's an explanation for all of this. There has to be. He was taking a nap, after all. That doesn't give him the right to act all cold and brusque!

I don't waste any time dwelling on it. I need a distraction.

It takes me less than five minutes to put on my little black dress, slip into my black pumps and apply my usual femme fatale make-up before heading out the door. I know the dress will hug my curves in all the right places and the pumps guarantee to elongate my legs. I will undoubtedly be the hottest thing at that damn party slash gallery opening.

It's not until I step outside into the chilled air that I realize I forgot my jacket. I curse out loud before getting into my car and punching the address Lissa had texted me into the GPS. Well, there are other ways to keep myself warm, I think to myself, smiling wickedly at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. There's no harm in having a little fun.

-:- -:- -:-

I'm staring at a painting that takes over half the wall. The way the dark colors mesh together on the canvas is slightly disturbing. It's almost as if a disarray of emotions has been poured into it in hopes that they'll remain there, imprisoned for eternity.

In simpler terms, whoever painted that is seriously fucked up.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" A male voice utters from behind me. I don't bother turning around.

"Just looks like a huge blob to me." No way am I telling some random stranger what my crazy-ass mind just came up with.

"A huge blob? Surely, there's more to it than that."

"Doubt it. Just some spoiled rich kid playing make believe with Daddy's credit card."

I hear a small, humorous chuckle and am suddenly enveloped by the scent of clove cigarettes. "Hey! I don't think you're allowed to smoke in he-"

I suddenly find myself swimming in a sea of green and my world comes to a screeching halt.

For a moment, neither of us speak. I see him drinking in every inch of my body, his emerald eyes so clearly filled with desire. I drag my eyes down to his lips. He's taking a puff from his cigarette in the most sensual way possible. I lick my lips involuntarily.

"Rose! You're here!"

I blink. The spell has been shattered.

"Lissa, hey." I turn away from him, painstakingly slow. I can still feel his eyes on me.

Lissa looks from me to mystery boy and her grin broadens. "I see you've met the artist."

I feel my insides grow cold. Oh God, no. This is not happening.

I fold my arms over my chest, defensively. "Oh?"

"Rose Hathaway, meet Adrian Ivashkov."

Green-eyes approaches me, taking one last drag of his cigarette before crushing it under his shoe. "Lovely to meet you." he reaches for my hand, pressing his oh-so-soft lips against it. I roll my eyes at him, refusing to succumb to this ladies man charms.

"You know, your manners are severely lacking." he mutters in my ear, brushing a few strands aside. "I wouldn't be too quick to judge the spoiled rich kids. Their sense of propriety makes up for what they lack in humility."

I scowl at him. "I'll take candor over arrogance any day."

"Of course you will."

Lissa, sensing the tension between us, links her arm through mine. "Come, Rose. We should mingle."

I don't really feel like mingling, but that gives me an excuse to bolt.

Without sparing Adrian a second glance, I turn on my heels, not bothering with formalities.

Before we're engulfed by the crowd, I think I hear him say: Come find me later, Miss Hathaway... Or maybe it's just my imagination running wild.

It seems presumptuous of him to assume that I would come find him, and if it were anyone else I would most likely tell them to take a hike. But for some reason that goes beyond my comprehension, I smile. Oh, you bet I will.

A/N: Please review and I'll continue!