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A couple hours later, I sat beside Alaric in his sports car as he drove me back to my apartment. He had showered and changed into black jeans with a bright blue, button up shirt adorned with images of palm trees and mountains. It was halfway unbuttoned, showing off his toned, tattooed chest and silver cross necklace. His brown hair hung down long around his face and aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. An assortment of rings adorned his fingers.

I fidgeted nervously in my seat. I put the window down, letting the warm Florida air attempt to calm my frigid nerves. My palms sweated and I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was going into a disaster.

We pulled into the parking lot and I immediately sat forward in my seat. I scanned the parked cars, looking for Ace. It was no where in sight.

“I don’t think he’s home” I whispered softly as Alaric glanced at me and lowered the rock music in the car. He parked in a spot close to my apartment and, with shaking hands, I unbuckled my seatbe