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Edward.

Even like this, she looks remarkably beautiful. It's a gift, really. Not many women can turn heads in and out of makeup and wardrobe. Havoc's dark tresses are pitch black now, smooth and combed back, droplets of water mingling with the soft material of the robe she's wearing. Her brown eyes are free from any makeup, bright and still just as dark—just as deep.

I watch as she puts the cigarette between her lips, then looks at me, silently asking me for her lighter. Restraint, Edward. Restraint and patience. Instead of handing it to her, I click it open, light the flame. I assist her, watch her watch me through her lashes as she takes her first drag. Something about the way she's looking at me makes my mouth go dry and my fingers dig into the front pocket of my jeans.

"So?" She arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me, waiting for my explanation. Her lips are so pouty, so pink without her lipstick. They make me lick my lips, and I play with my tongue bar nervously.

I stay a little silent while I light a cigarette up myself, watch smoke unfurl into the night. I feel tired, but my mind is racing—restless.

"What happened earlier… it shouldn't have," she says suddenly. Havoc taps her ashes over the balcony railing, her little feet tucked underneath the glass panel. She doesn't even look at me, so I turn around, put one finger underneath her chin so she lifts her eyes on mine.

"I don't fucking care. It was the best sex I've had in a little while, to be honest… Even though it was a little…"

"Weird?" She chuckles, pulling her head away from me. Her robe falls down her shoulder, and she shivers as the cold night's air hits her porcelain skin where her wet hair connects with her arm. I pull it up for her as she blows out smoke, my fingers underneath her collar. My eyes narrow as I caress her skin and I feel the raised bumps there, but Havoc pulls away immediately and averts her eyes again.

"I've never done that before, you know. Not in ages, and I didn't even enjoy my training." I admit. Havoc just stares ahead, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her lips. "But… I don't know, I kinda liked what happened there."

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You liked being denied an orgasm? Why, Ginger… you might be a switch after all." She's amused, the night sky reflecting in her eyes, twinkling.

"I'm being fucking serious here," I start—eying her reaction. The pretty smile fades, and she bites that juicy bottom lip of hers. "I wanna try it. But on one condition," I try again. She doesn't disrupt me, waits for my terms. Hell, I can't even read her right now. She's mastered the mask she's constantly wearing. I wish she'd just fucking drop it. "You try it, too."

Havoc lets out a shaky little breath when she crushes the end of her cigarette into the ashtray on the small, round table.

"I can't…" she sighs. Her pretty, little head hangs down, defeated, but when she shrugs and looks up at me, all I see is pain. I don't like it one bit.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story." She walks off without further explanation, but I follow her, grab her wrist so she stops running.

"Get your hands off me," she bites. "I fucking mean it!" My fiery companion is down to nothing but the smallest of embers. She just looks…sad.

I let her go, hold up my hands and watch as she just stands there and looks at me. It's like I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

"Please tell me, Isabella." I fucking beg, because I'm that desperate to get to know this magical creature.

Mhmmm, Ginger: reformed.