I didn't want to lie down next to Krissy again. It just seemed wrong to wake up together with her, the way I dreamed to wake up with Rose. I'd always found it uncomfortable to wake up next to a girl after a one night stand. It just felt too.. intimate. Different from actually having sex. While they were sleeping, those girls had lost their carefully applied cover of make-up from the evening before. The person a girl pretended to be, while dancing in a club, would make place for the person they really were. Complex. Sensitive. A real person, with real feelings.

Somehow, I found it hard to handle that truth. It was way easier to simply think about them as objects. It made me feel less bad.

But if I wasn't going to go back in bed, what was I going to do then? I thought hard. The simple effort combined with the hangover caused a throbbing pain in my head. Finally, I came up with two options.

option a) Lie down on the couch. That was one thing I could do. My head hurt like hell, and maybe I could go back to sleep. But I didn't think I would be able to. Plus, I'd have to face Krissy and Carla soon.

The other option was, b) Go outside. It was still dark out, but the air was warm, and maybe walking around would clear my head.

So, option b) it was.

I took a pen, and a sticky-note, and wrote down:

'Thanks for tonight, but duty calls. Gotta go.' Just before I signed my name, I remembered that I'd introduced myself as Jet. I wrote down a cursive J. and couldn't resist drawing a small airplane next to it.

Then, I quickly collected my stuff (my cell phone, a pair of sunglasses and the little money I'd had on me)

Just before I started to sneak out, I noticed that a phone number was written on the horn of the girls' old fashioned phone. Phone numbers were always useful, and that way, I could contact them whenever I was bored. I quickly punched in the number in my cell, and saved it under C&K. Then I left for real. I didn't put on my shoes until I was outside so they wouldn't hear me leave. Then I wondered where to go.

I had been in LA before, but I'd never explored the city further than the nightclubs and casino's, so I ended up wandering aimlessly, wishing that I'd searched the apartment for some painkillers. I considered calling Lee to pick me up, but I knew he'd still be asleep. My cell-phone indicated that it was 5:02 am, and the city was still dark. Sometimes I would hear the pulsing beat of a party that was going on all night long, but the idea of going in didn't appeal to me at all. The sound only hurt my head.

There were a lot of stores opened in LA, for this time of day. The light in a tiny bakery was burning bright, and went inside and ordered a cup of black coffee. The man behind the counter had a bit of flour in his salt-and-pepper grey hair, which made it look even whiter than it already was. He didn't speak to me, and just nodded to one of the small tables in the store. I sat down, and waited until he brought me the coffee. I paid for it immediately. It was so cheap that I gave him the double amount as a tip. He gave me a grateful smile, still without speaking, and then went back into the kitchen where he was baking his bread.

I just sat there, sipping my coffee. It helped my headache a little, and it seemed to break the hazy barrier that had been blocking my thoughts. I wondered where Rose was at that moment, and imagined her lying in Dimitri's arms, fast asleep, a smile on her face.

I wished I were the one that made her happy. But I knew I would never be. I suddenly felt really alone, and almost wished I'd stayed at the girls' apartment, just to have someone to talk to.

I stood up, and went outside, and I vaguely wondered how the air here could be this warm, without the sun shining. There were no people out on the street. The only light was coming from the shops. One of them caught my attention. I stopped to look at it.

It was a tiny art gallery, that sold beautiful oil paintings. The door was opened, and I slipped inside. It smelled of a strange mixture of paint and incense, and a human woman with bright red hair, about sixty years old, was working on a large painting. When I first glanced at it, it looked like a huge butterfly. But as I looked harder, I noticed a million tiny paintings hidden it its wings. Flowers, birds, and brightly colored swirls that didn't seem to have a beginning or an end. But also darkness. Tiny black monsters hid in the corners of the wings. For a moment, the woman was too caught up in her painting to even notice me. But when she did, she smiled.

"Hello, young man." She said, "What do you think of my painting?"

I looked at it for several more moments. "It's incredibly beautiful." I said, speaking my thoughts. "What is the meaning behind it?" I knew paintings like that always had stories.

She glanced up at me. "That's a nice question, but I think you know the answer yourself. You tell me what it stands for."

I thought for a minute, and she simply watched me. "I think it stands for life." I finally said. "Just like the simple shape of a butterfly, the concept of life seems like something simple. You're born, you live, you die. But when you look closer, life is much more complicated. You can get lost in endless patterns, you may never get out again. There is love and beauty, the flowers and the birds, and also the monsters, sadness, grief and pain." I finished.

She looked up at me, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And here I thought I was just painting a butterfly."

I smiled. "That's okay, too."

"Are you an artist yourself?"She asked.

"Sort of."I replied. "I used to paint a little." The art classes I'd taken, were one of the few things in school that I had liked. And I had been pretty good at it too. But I always found it hard to stick to assignments, and my teacher had gotten mad at me, when I handed in a painting of a cat when I was supposed to paint a forest. After that, I hadn't showed up to any of the classes anymore.

"You don't look like you're here to buy art." The woman said.

"No, not really." I admitted. " I just wanted to look at the paintings."

" Will you join me? " She gestured towards an empty sheet of canvas. "You could use my oil paint…"

And that's how I ended up painting, in a tiny art studio in LA at six in the morning. I painted a river that reflected the sunlight in a million different colors, emphasizing them by surrounding the water with dark gray rocks that casted distorted shadows in the water. At the end of the river, just barely visible, was a field filled with golden flowers that reflected the sunlight. It was one of my best paintings so far. I had the texture of the rocks and the water down perfectly.

" It's incredibly beautiful." Said the woman, I'd learned her name was Maggie, echoing my earlier words. " What is the meaning behind it?"

"Guess." I said.

"I think it means hope." She said. " The river leads from the dark rocks, into the light."

I smiled up at her. "Thank you." I said. " For everything."

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Lee. 'goin back 2 clarnce. where can I pick u up?' It said. I asked Maggie what the street name was, and texted it to him. 'be there in 10' was his reply.

" What do you want to do with your painting?" Maggie asked. "I could place it in the gallery, and sell it for you, if you want. I'll give you the money."

I could definitely use some extra money. " Will you do that for me?" I asked. I'd learned enough about her to know that she wouldn't just place anything in her precious art gallery.

"I'd be pleased to have such a wonderful work here." She said. " You just need to sign it, and give me your number. I'll call you when I find a buyer."

I wrote down my phone number on a piece of paper. Then, I dipped the smallest paintbrush into the black paint, and wrote 'Adrian Ivashkov' in tiny print on the canvas.

"Take a picture of it." Maggie urged me. " It won't be the same as the real painting, but that way you'll never forget what it looks like." So I took a picture with my phone camera, and quickly after, I heard Lee's car pull up outside. I told Maggie goodbye.

"I hope you'll never stop painting." was her reply.

"I won't" I murmured, sliding in the front seat of Lee's car.

"So, what have you done all night?" Lee asked.

I opened the picture of my painting on my phone, and smiled. "Something fun." I said.

So, that was another chapter. I completely made this one up, so I hope you don't think it's too out of character. I wanted to give Adrian back some of his depth. Plus, I have to admit, even in the books I like Adrian best when he's vulnerable like that.

Let me know what you think about these chapters that aren't in the books at all. Do you guys want me to stick strictly to the Adrian chapters Richelle Mead describes, or do you like Adrian on his own?

Love, Number 101