Chapter 5

Daria

When we arrive at Elisabeth's apartment complex, the old lady is already waiting for us outside. She is smoking a cigarette while glaring at the car, looking like Iris's replica only a thousand times meaner. Her grey hair is tied up in a muffin, and she is wearing a blue dressing-gown as if it's her western take on a traditional kimono.

Iris jumps out of the car, walking up to her sister with her arms akimbo to embrace the mean-looking little thing. I follow suit, aware of Elisabeth giving me the stink eye while hugging her sister.

"Hey, Elisabeth! Long time no see!"

If Iris truly hates Elisabeth, she doesn't show, or maybe she knows how much her sister dislikes physical contact. Elisabeth already looks like a bomb ready to explode.

"Good evening..." Elisabeth nods at me. "I'm guessing this is the nun that you texted me about, am I right?"

Iris beams up at me. "Yes, this is Daria."

I awkwardly wave at Elisabeth, but I refrain from opening my stupid mouth. For some reason, I don't think I should utter a single sentence if I wish to stay here.

"Is she in trouble?" Elisabeth questions while looking me up and down with suspicion. "You know I hate letting murderers stay here, Iris. The last one you brought didn't pay his rent."

What the actual-... I shouldn't swear, but FUCK!

Iris sighs. "Jarold was indeed poor with handling his money. He certainly knew how to end people, though. Sure, he had his inner demons, but overall, he was a great guy. He knew how to cook a mean meat pie. I never figured out where he bought the meat and ingredients from, though. The guy rarely went to the store, and the girl inside his room never joined us for dinner to spill his kitchen secrets."

Both sisters share a moment of silence, gazing out into nothingness before Iris clears her throat.

"Daria is planning on finding a job." She turns to me, smiling in this wrinkly, sincere way that makes me wish I had a mother figure. Iris is weird but kind. "I will pay for her first week. That was our deal for me almost running over you, right?"

"Yes!" I nod my head. "I will head out first thing tomorrow!"

Elisabeth doesn't seem convinced, but her expression is curious. I get the irking insight she may wish to see whether I succeed in finding a job. I'm a nun, someone who has never experienced the real world, and I might fall flat onto my face, but I've never been a quitter.

I will try my absolute hardest. Iris has told me that if I'm lucky, I might be able to score a job as a waitress. Summer workers will return to their studies, and some places might search for part-time workers during early hours when younger people can't work.

"Okay." Elisabeth gives me something that isn't quite a smile, but it's better than her glaring at me. "I will let you use Jarold's old room, but if you can't pay rent, I'm kicking you out."

"That's fair," I need to find a job. Finding an apartment is near impossible in this city—I can't afford to mess this up!

"Jarold left his old bed in the apartment. I will gift you some bedsheets. Hopefully, it's enough to cover up the red stain on his old mattress. I think his girl had a terrible period."

***

The following day my back hurts like hell, and I don't think it's my tumor messing with me. I spent the night on the floor, terrified of sleeping in Jarold's old bed since it downright looked like a crime scene.

In truth, it may be the tumor, but it's easier pretending it's not there and live in denial than facing reality—that I'm a ticking time bomb.

Yawning, I get up on my feet and slip into some clothes Elisabeth let me take from her lost and found. I'm now wearing oversized bleached jeans and a white polo shirt that has seen better days.

I snort at my reflection. "I don't look sane—people are going to think I stepped out from the 70ies!"

Laughter echoes against the walls because even if I'm wearing ridiculous clothes, it's such a relief not to wear the black tunic. I'm not joking when I say that stepping out of my new, shitty apartment and squinting at the sun feels like entering a new life—this is freedom.

I hurry down the stairs and head for the city. Iris told me she could draw me a map, but I quite enjoy getting lost. I was rarely allowed to leave the convent during my nun days. Maria was a slave-driver and hated the idea of giving me too much freedom, claiming it would corrupt my brain.

She was wrong because as I stare up at the skyscrapers and see people either smiling or speaking into their phones, I don't picture evil—this is life, the place where I'm meant to be.

I keep walking, ignoring that exhaustion that washes over me whenever I work up a good sweat. I won't cry. Instead, I'm smiling up at the sky, at the people, and spreading my arms. Some people are staring at me as I dance around like a fool, but I don't care.

I'm standing in this narrow street, packed with people while cars and yellow cabs are passing me. I enjoy every second of breathing in the air of gas and dirt before I get the sense someone is watching me. Without daring to breathe, I whip around my head.

Holy Shit.

Every movement on the street seems to slow down, and the noises disappear until all I hear is my beating heart. My senses are on high alert, and I stare at the man smiling from the other side of the road.

Wilder.

His presence rubs over me, and unwelcomed heat licks my bones when he aims his killer smile my way. His beefy arms are folded over a luxurious-looking car, and I can tell he wishes to approach me. Those eyes, deep-set and golden, are appreciating me, fucking me raw with their sheer intensity, and I shudder.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" Wilder shouts over the traffic.

I curl my fingers around my lips, shouting back at him. "I can't say I expected to run into you either! Don't you have more important places to be, Mr. Moviestar?!"

His lips curve into this infectious smile, one that makes me swoon and inwardly curse at the same time. Why does he have to be so darn handsome?

Suddenly I'm warm and remembering how it felt to bite Wilder's lips. I fit so perfectly in his lap, and his muscular arms felt so safe as he held me. Unfortunately, the bastard had to ruin the moment by opening his mouth. I might never have left if things were different.

"I'm not supposed to be in public places, but today I'm wearing a disguise! Look at this!"

Wilder steps aside from the car and points at his baggy clothes that do nothing to hide his bulky frame. He is even wearing a baseball cap and gives me this adorable smile when he puts on these huge sunglasses, leaving him looking like a criminal.

If a serial killer was on the loose and I was a detective, Wilder would be my first suspect. He is built like a brick house, and his clothes are downright suspicious.

Powerless to resist, I laugh at him, which only seems to deepen his charming smile.

"You look like a serial killer!" I shout at him. "And I would stay chatting with you, but I have places to be!"

"What?" Wilder looks disappointed and amused at the same time. Those pearly whites are stunning. "You're always in such a hurry! Can't you stay for a few minutes and grab a coffee?"

"No!"

I'm tempted, but I have to be a responsible grownup and try finding myself a job. Flirting with the hot actor won't get me anywhere except possibly a first-class ticket to the land of the heartbroken.

"Why not?" Wilder is holding out his arms. It's hard taking him seriously when he is wearing those sunglasses. "Am I that bad?" He gasps in this exaggerating way. "Don't tell me I had a bad breath when we kissed?"

I snort-laugh at him and then mock him by using his dramatic tone against him. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys constantly fishing for compliments? There was nothing wrong with your breath! You smelled like mint. The kiss was perfect—you're perfect!"

Wilder is grinning. "Then why won't you let me buy you a coffee, Daria? Calling me perfect sounds like I'm a pretty good catch! Maybe you should give me a chance!"

"No, I don't date famous or wealthy people!" I shout at him as I'm walking up the street.

"That's discrimination!" Wilder tries sounding insulted by my words, but I can tell he is resisting the urge to laugh. "Most people would kill for a chance to date me!"

"And that's precisely why I won't share a coffee with you—you're too cocky and only in for the chase!"

"You've got it all wrong!" Wilder is at the brink of yelling. "I can't stop thinking about you, Daria!"

His words awaken my traitorous heart and make it take part in a frantic race. Blood rushes to my skull, and suddenly, I can't think. Butterflies invade my stomach, and I stand there like a fool. The only body part that functions is my lips—I'm smiling.

I'm about to take Wilder up on his offer, but then I'm tackled to the side of the street by some guy wearing a funny hat and a camera. His attention is on Wilder, who glares back at the guy. He must have noticed how the guy treated me, and he doesn't seem to like it.

I glance around. People are noticing Wilder and pointing at him with these brilliant smiles on their faces. Wilder winces at someone squealing behind him, and I watch in fascination as a girl tries launching herself at him before getting stopped by a man in a suit.

I'm shocked at Wilder for having someone hired to protect him. I assume the man must be one of Wilder's bodyguards. Admittedly I didn't think he had any since no one stopped me from kissing him, and I watch in silence as three men in black suits jump out from the expensive-looking car, hurdling people away from the scene.

A frown takes my lips. Wilder gets pushed into his car by one of these bodyguards, and I decide to turn around. It's not like nothing could ever grow between us, anyway.