Midnight Muse

The nickname he uses constantly startles me back into reality and my immediate response is to scowl. “I’ll forgive you if you stop calling me that.”

“Unlikely,” he smirks. “Take the apology or leave it.”

I sigh. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

Knox seems surprised at how easily I accept his apology, but this is all I’ve wanted all along, a simple acknowledgement of the thing he did wrong. I’ve been tired of this hanging over our heads for so long, and I feel like a weight is lifted off of my shoulders now that this conversation is happening.

We sit in silence for a bit longer but it’s not as charged now. Instead, it’s quite nice.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Knox stuns me by asking.

“What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks again, as if he doesn’t understand how I’m astonished by his question. He’s only just apologized for fuck’s sake.

Has the elevator getting stuck somehow transported us into the Twilight Zone? Is this even really Knox sitting here with me or some sort of changeling?

“Um…nothing?” I respond and he quirks a brow at me.

“Is that a question or an answer, Princess?”

“An answer,” I glare. “I have no plans, yet. Why?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tipping his head back to rest against the wall, as if he’s contemplating even finishing his question. He looks like the perfect picture of casual with his hands folded in his lap.

Finally, he says, “I’m having an exhibition tomorrow night. Would you like to come?”

I blink, because this is definitely not the neighbor I know. An exhibition tomorrow night? And he’s asking me of all people?

“Who are you and what have you done with my douchebag neighbor?” I ask incredulously, shifting in my spot.

A wry smile cracks his lips and my heart stutters in my chest. “Still here, Princess.”

My mouth twists sourly and I narrow my eyes at him. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go to an exhibition with you—tomorrow night?”

He’s staring at me like he doesn’t know why I’m shocked at the suddenness of this question, cocking his head when he agrees to the echo of words I’ve just relayed back to him. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you ask your roommates to go with you?”

“They don’t know about it.”

Huh. I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t know why he wouldn’t invite Slate or Ace to an exhibition that he’s probably known about for months. Although, I could see Slate wreaking havoc and drinking too much champagne, but Ace? It seems like the perfect spot for someone like him, especially with his parent’s connections.

Or rather, why isn’t he asking the girl he was on a date with last night?

I don’t like the way my body reacts to that line of thinking, my stomach tightening and my fingers clenching into fists as jealously floods my system. I shouldn’t be feeling like this over him of all people, but I just can’t seem to help myself. My mind has always been drawn to thinking about Knox like he’s mine.

Maybe the date didn’t go well, if he’s asking me instead of her.

I mull it over, analyzing him while I decide. Knox allows me the moment, waiting patiently for my response like we have all the time in the world.

Right now, while we’re stuck in this awful elevator, I suppose we do.

The green of his eyes is bright. He’s never been easy to read, and even as I search them now, I can’t find a flicker of anything telling me that this might be some sort of joke.

I tut, crossing my arms over my chest to stop myself from wringing my fingers in my lap. He makes me nervous. Always has. “Why me?”

“No one better to go with than someone I’m not trying to impress,” he answers and I have to ignore the bite of hurt I feel from his words. He has a point though, we’ve been skirting around each other as much as possible up until this point, and I’ve just made it known that I’m unwilling to share my artwork with him.