Midnight Muse

My knock on the boy’s apartment door is answered by the one and only, my worst nightmare, Knox.

“Can I help you?” He grouses, and he doesn’t sound or look outright disgusted by my presence, but he doesn’t seem thrilled to see me at his door either. He’s wearing the same long sleeve from earlier, and it’s hard not to follow the stretch of the fabric as his muscles pop when he crosses his arms over his broad chest, staring me down with those bright jade eyes.

There’s a fifty percent chance I’m about to have the door slammed in my face again.

I tilt my chin up, as intimidating as it is to stand my ground, it’s just as much to look up at his towering form. “Are Slate and Ace here?” I ask, attempting to be civil. The half glass of wine I’ve already had churns in my stomach.

Knox doesn’t say a word. His gaze dips, trailing the length of my body and it makes me want to cross my own arms over my chest as goosebumps break out across my skin. I don’t like that I can’t tell what he’s thinking: if I’m revolting to him or maybe he’s just doing this to spite me.

Before I can call him out for his wandering eyes, he steps aside, holding the door open and allowing me into their apartment with a sarcastic sweep of his hand.

So much for the civility we had going at lunch, but at least Knox keeps his mouth shut.

I shiver as my arm brushes his, the warmth of his body zipping beneath my skin, jolting my heart rate like a set of jumper cables. I want to jerk away but instead I lengthen my strides into their home.

Their apartment is similar to mine, worn hardwood floors that are stained with the alcohol of a hundred parties. The black granite counters suits them, and someone’s painted the cabinets to match. It pulls the light of the room in like a void, whereas mine and Rory’s apartment has white cabinetry, reflecting the light—or lack thereof since the sun set hours ago—and makes the room feel bigger.

Their couch looks much comfier than the cheap one Rory and I found online. It seems like the perfect place to hunker down for a movie marathon, and I don’t even notice any odd stains on the dark fabric. Of course, their TV is colossal sized, and I think I’ll have to convince Slate to host a movie marathon sometime.

“They’ll be right out.” Knox’s voice startles me and I jump, unaware that he’d been standing so close. I peer up at him over my shoulder and it’s only now that I realize just how tall he is, nearly a whole head above than me.

I nod because my breath is caught in my throat.

I watch him move back to his seat at the counter where he must have been before I knocked on the door. Spread out across the dark stone are large pieces of drawing paper and an entire box of charcoal. They must be assignments that he’s putting the finishing touches on.

I bet being up all night surely helps him stay ahead of his coursework.

I stand dumbly, halfway between their kitchen and living room. I want to move closer, look over Knox’s shoulder to finally catch a glimpse of his artwork, but I don’t want him biting my head off about it, either.

“What are you doing with Ace and Slate?” Knox asks, and I’m shocked because it’s not said rudely. I didn’t know he had another tone besides annoying, or that he would ever deign to ask me of all people what my plans are for tonight.

“We’re all going to Tipsy Canvas,” I answer bluntly, because it’s more of an answer than he deserves. Knox seems content in his refusal to apologize to me, and that’s fine, but I can’t help the pang of remorse I feel, knowing that Rory and I are taking his friends out and he’ll be left alone tonight. I tack on, softer at the sudden guilt I feel, “You can join if you’d like.”

He looks up from his artwork, settling those beautiful eyes on me once more. Their coloring rivals that of a grassy knoll, waist-high strands that I could see myself frolicking in.

Although he doesn’t know it, Slate comes to my rescue, sliding out of his room while he tugs a shirt over his head. I allow myself to be distracted by the muscles of his abdomen that are sadly being covered up.

I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take his shirt back off if I asked.

Slate shakes his wet hair out like a dog and Knox grimaces when a droplet hits him in the face. I smother my smirk, tucking my lip between my teeth.

“Oh, time for Tipsy Canvas already? Please tell me there are going to be naked ladies.”

I roll my eyes because he already knows exactly what happens at Tipsy Canvas and that nude models are a no. But Slate truly loves nothing more than a naked body. “I don’t think they’d like it if you got naked at Tipsy Canvas, Slate.”

Ace emerges from the single door on the left side of the apartment. It must be his room, and even without having seen Slate enter from his own, I would know who the last room belongs to. The loud ass music that I share a wall with. It’s surprising, actually, how Knox isn’t in there right now with the noise amped up to astronomical.

“Wrong,” Slate answers flippantly, flicking me on the nose as he passes, making his way towards the door for his shoes. Knox frowns. “Everyone would love that, don’t kid yourself, Quinnie. Although, you already know what I’m working with. You can put in a good word for me if I see any pretty girls, right?” He bats his eyelashes at me. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Before I can snark back, Slate’s plucking his keys from the bowl by the door and sauntering out of the apartment. I hear him barge through my door a second later, shouting for Rory.

I take a breath to steady myself. I can feel eyes glued to the back of my head and I know that it’s Knox because Ace is following Slates steps and grabbing his wallet from the counter. I don’t want to be left alone with either of them, so I crane my neck over my shoulder, making direct eye contact with Knox. “You in?”

Ace’s steps falter as if he’s surprised that I’m extending the invitation. It makes me wonder what exactly Knox told his roommates about me that night we met.

He doesn’t break my gaze as he contemplates, and after a moment, he nods, standing from his chair and following Ace and I out the door.

I can’t help but feel like we’re moving a step in the right direction.