Riley's POV

Till now, I never knew I liked the smell of laundry so much. With the tampons out, the stinging ache from the nosebleed gone, every draw of breath doesn't have the lasting metallic smell of blood, but every inhale has felt like sniffing clothes right out of the dryer. It was the first thing I noticed since I woke up this morning- that clean, comforting aroma so unlike a floral perfume.... Her entire apartment smells like the inside of a laundry mat. Her bed, her clothes, her couch, the curtains hanging on the walls, and especially her.

"Should I make dinner for two?" Jamie asks, poking her red head in between the white curtains hanging by her tiny room. I'm lounging across her full bed back in my black hoodie and jeans, dazed by the smell emulating from her soft sheets. I prefer to relax in the nude, but Jamie looked she was going to pass out.

"Are you trying to wine and dine me?" I ask, raising a brow up at her. I love busting her chops. I've been saying suggestive one liners for hours now, and each time her ears kept getting redder with each one.

"N-no." Jamie answers nervously. Her nervous stutter makes the corners of my mouth twitch. I barely know this girl, but she's so amusing. I never have meet someone so genuinely decent in a long time. Everyone in this shitty world is either awful, selfish, fake or all of the above. Except this girl.

"What are you making?" I inquire. I can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal. It feels like years. It probably has been years.

"Vegetables, and tofu." She answers in her soft voice. It's like she's afraid of being loud, it's like she's terrified of being heard.

"Gross." I gag. My stomach growls for my usual burrito I get at 711. If it comes out of the ground, I don't eat it.

"You sound like a kid." Jamie sighs, her full pink lips frowning.

"You sound like a judging hipster." I counter with irritation laced in my voice.

"I'm a vegetarian, not a hipster. Being a hipster sounds too tiring." She clarifies. Huh, looks like there's some wit buried under all that sheepishness.

"Still nasty." I shrug.

"If you change your mind I'll leave a plate for you in the microwave." She says, disappearing from the curtains. God, I hate when she's thoughtful. It's so foreign to me that it drives me nuts.

"Aren't you scared of me, weirdo?" I question, following her into her small kitchen. I tried to rob her. I would have pointed the glock I have tucked away in my jeans, and she gave me a bed and a fucking cupcake. And it was the best damn cupcake I ever had, which made it even harder to eat.

"Should I be?" She asks, looking up at me with curious green eyes. That throws me off. I was expecting an absolute yes, not reverse psychology.

"Yes." I state, trapping her between the counter and my arms, glaring down into her green eyes. She doesn't look scared, and it pisses me off. Instead she squirms against the counter in an effort to put space between us. She just looks uncomfortable, if she's not going to be scared of me she should at least hit on me. Girls are either afraid of me or sleep with me, no in between. She's just adding insult to injury.

She has no idea who I am. She has no clue that's there's a gun between us. I'm a bad person who makes the world a worse place. Maybe I should whip out my gun, prove to her why she should be scared of me.

A sharp ring cuts between us, and I storm off to get my phone. Looks like I can't hide in this small apartment anymore. The big bad world is calling.

"Hey." I growl into my phone.

"Riley! Mate!" An Australian accent slurs on the other line. "I just made a new batch, it's time to work, mate." Nate yells in my ears. Sounds like he helped himself to some of the product.

"Okay, Nate." I sigh. A girl's moan sounds off in the distance, and my heart lurches. Of course Nate is with her. I hang up as fast as I can, my hands curling up into fists at my sides as my blood boils.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pipes up behind me. Don't ask me if I'm okay. Stop caring, it's putting me on edge.

"I'm out of here." I say. Jamie says nothing, but the pitter patter of her feet on my heels drives me nuts. I drown out her footsteps with the slam of a door, but the sudden quiet doesn't make me feel any better.

Riley mood board: