Vincent’s apartment wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined it.   It was large. Open. High ceilings, large windows. The modern kitchen of her dreams. Wooden floor noticeably absent of stiletto marks dotted about the place. Modestly decorated. Sparsely. She’d imagined he’d only have one dish, one bowl. One fork. One spoon. One steak knife. Two glasses—one holding his toothbrush. Had no idea how to casually look to see whether she was right. Suddenly, she wanted to ask why it was so bare. But felt it rather rude. “You haven’t spoken much, is everything alright?” Quietly, she spun to face the man.   He slipped a hand beneath her chin in a way that reminded her so terribly of Richard—yet he felt all the more different. Warm. Kind. As though he didn’t have the desire to wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace and crush her shoulders. She’d gotten that feeling from Richard. “Did you want me to take you home?” As his eyes s

Blue, deciding being of legal age to adopt a whole child meant she had every right to, openly disobeyed her curfew.   Staring at the man from across the breakfast table, as she had been for quite some time, some part however reluctant knew she’d made the right choice. He’d dressed as he had the day before, a simple pair of jeans and the same white blouse he seemed to own many of. They had stopped by Calvin Klein. Though she’d pulled out her emergency black card, Vincent insisted on paying for the jeans. She’d borrowed yet another version of his same button-up from him. Tucked the front into her trousers. Stumbled along in the heels she’d worn the night before. Hair drying in delicate curls around her face, skin bare, eyes bleary, he decided it best she kept it. She’d worn it better than he ever could.   They’d found some quiet cafe around the corner of his apartment. Citrus and coffee beans battled in the air. Dimly lit. Th

There was some strange humour in the fact that Bradley Pierce's office, a place Blue hadn't been in since she was ten, had quickly become her favourite place to slip away and lose herself in some intensive tonsil-tennis and pre-marital sex. Almost just as strange was the fact that Vincent, a man she hadn't met 10 days ago, was being invited over more and more by Marian to keep the fast-ageing woman company during the times Bradley and Richard inevitably snuck off together as though they were the married couple. Perhaps if Blue wasn't so occupied, she would find the time her father and the man she was supposedly going to marry spent together strange... but she hadn't even noticed, let alone given it any thought.   Blue found herself laughing rather loudly. "You've taken this exact shirt off three times already and you still get stuck on the buttons?" The words fell between lips almost sewn to her own, and though she chuckled with the playful spirits she would soo

As Blue ate, she found it rather difficult to quash daydreams of her night spent with Vincent. They’d spent the better half of their day shopping. He had taken her halfway across town to a cheap diner for a pancake dinner at her own behest. They’d gotten into his apartment late. He’d entertained her desire for a traditional proposal.   Vincent took her to his balcony. The wind had swept up through her skirt and billowed through her hair. She could hear the traffic even dozens of floors below. Smell the city. Light from the apartment had poured in through the larger windows, warming the man as he sunk to a crouch before her. He pulled out the ring she had chosen herself, yellow gold, and said the four words so plainly. Yet she’d never heard them quite the same. She’d worn the ring to bed with him, though they hadn’t slept much. He woke up at four-thirty in the morning to drive her home. She’d made it back just in time to sneak in for breakfast. &

"You know, taking me to all your business meetings when my mother might have filed a missing person report by now probably isn't the best idea," Blue avoided Vincent's eyes due to the sheer possibility her cheeks would be bright red—he had kept one hand on the steering wheel the whole drive back to the hotel and the other on her; one part of her body or the other. Of course, when he laced his fingers with hers, the touch had been rather tame. At odd moments on the highway where he didn't have to think too much at all, he'd hook a hand beneath her underwear and trace the length of her in the most painful way she could ever imagine. She'd wanted nothing more than to fuck his hand as though her life depended on it but lacked the sheer valor and instead settled on rocking her head back and pressing her lips together as she fisted the edge of her seat and held back a cry of frustration. "You're eighteen, Blue, I haven't stolen a child from their home—did yo