So I was wondering if I should publish this separately but then I was like, NAH. Drew/Octavian. For Daughter of Hypnos. Gah, this pairing. So much to explore. This is going on MY LIST.
xxiv. parking lot love story
A black car pulls into the parking lot outside the camp. A black car with tinted windows, and no, it is not trying to park in her parking space. It wouldn't dare.
Oh, but it is.
Well, she isn't going to stand for it. No. So she presses down on her brakes, hard, and Blush shoots forward. She hits the side of the car, red meets black, and leaves a dent. A good one. The car goes backwards in surprise and she squeezes Blush into her rightful place. She gets her bags (Gucci) out of the back, while the black car's front door opens and a lanky blond guy steps out. He's outraged. "What the hell?"
He's roman. They've been crawling around the place. Like tourists. "Do you even know who I am?" he demands, waving his arms wildly. "You dented her!"
She puts on her sunglasses, nonchalant, gorgeous, and says, "I don't care who you are. You could be the praetor or whoever, and you could still not park in my space. Got that?"
She's not charmspeaking. But maybe she should be, because Blondhair decides to argue. "You dented her! Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Drew, darling. I'm Drew."
And she swings her bag over her shoulder and struts (yes, she struts) away.
She can hear him spluttering all the way to her cabin.
/
Blondhair isn't the praetor. But he's pretty close.
And guess what? She still doesn't care.
/
She's unpacking her stuff, random messy piles of designer shoes on her bed and clothes strewn across the floor of the cabin. This is the cabin that Blondhair walks into on his "Official Tour". He's led by Chiron. He looks tired. Blondhair looks smug. Chiron makes small talk about her father's wedding and she answers small answers. Blondhair looks around, amused, and she casually tosses some of her bras onto her bunk.
He clears his throat as if that would hide his tomato red blush. Tomatohead.
Chiron pulls him out and she waves them off with a dangerously pointed pump in her hand.
/
But then things go wrong at the meeting and he storms out. Whispers during dinnertime of war between the camps.
She dreams of driving away.
/
She's with Blush, driving aimlessly. Highway, highway, deer, swerve, highway again. Her red nails hold the steering wheel lazily and Blush is purring. She's almost happy, just driving, but then Blush's headlights show something that is not deer, not highway. Human. Blondhair.
She pulls over beside him, walking aimlessly, and tells him to get in before he gets eaten or mutilated.
/
They stop at McDonald's and he stuffs his face with a Big Mac. She's eating fries and washing them down with coffee. They don't talk but she doesn't really want to say anything, anyway. Not to him, not to anyone.
The next day, they don't say anything either. The meetings go better. No one storms out. Blondhair isn't there when she's driving. She doesn't care.
/
But then he's there again, passenger seat passenger. She drives in silence, the radio plays some pop song about love songs and he says, so quietly she's not sure she heard anything, that he's tired.
She says that nothing is as tiring as wedding preparations.
He says that he's scared.
She says that nothing could be as scary as her bridesmaids dress.
He laughs.
/
He's not there the next day.
/
Or the next day.
/
The meetings turn out good-great-awesome-of-course-there-will-be-peace and the romans are going to leave. She decides she's had enough of everyone and decides to leave too. She packs only the essentials: water, chocolate and her favourite pair of shoes. In the end, she fills three (designer) duffel bags. It's okay. They'll fit in Blush.
Two days before the romans are supposed to leave, she's gone. Out. Disappeared.
She wonders if they'll wonder where she's gone. She wonders if they'll care.
/
Gods, the open highway feels so good. She's going so fast she's almost flying and she's never felt so alive. There are no other cars, not here, and she's going wherever she wants. Anything to see nothing but open road.
But then she's not alone. Black car with tinted windows rolled down and Blondhair sticks his head out. "What's her name?" He yells over the wind.
"Blush. What's hers?"
"Destiny."
"Well, damn. I dented Destiny." She smiles, even though the wind is so sharp it hurts her face. "How original."
"Blush is cliche."
"What? Blush is beautiful and you know it."
"Fries and coffee?"
"Anytime."