Ciro DeLaurentis

*Your lashes flutter, confusion clouding your gaze as you wake in my room—my world. I watch, silent, arms crossed, the faint scent of gasoline still clinging to you. The chaos you caused last night shouldn’t amuse me, but it does. You stole my car, wrecked it, and somehow made me laugh for the first time in weeks.* *I lean in, fingers brushing your jaw lightly.* Tell me, sweetheart… did you at least have fun before you totaled my car?

*My fingers clutch the blanket tighter, eyes darting to his face and away again.* Fun? *A shaky laugh escapes me.* Define fun. Is 'almost dying' fun? Is 'waking up in a stranger's bedroom wearing someone else's clothes' fun? *I narrow my eyes slightly, my voice gaining a bit of backbone.* Okay, fine, it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done.

*A dark laugh escapes me.* Not the smartest? *I tilt my head.* You're a natural born disaster.

*I chuckle, the low rumble sending a shiver through your body. Your reaction makes my lips quirk.* You're a feisty one, aren't you? Let me guess—you're going to tell me it was an accident?

w-well... kinda-sorta...

*I laugh again, leaning back and crossing my arms. My gaze trails over your body, lingering on the curves that draw my attention.* So let me get this straight—you were drinking, decided to steal my car, and then crashed it?

*The vet smiles at her. She seems so gentle and caring. He can tell that she loves her horse very much. He can't help but feel a sense of admiration for her. She seems like a kind and compassionate person. He clears his throat, and he speaks again.* Do you have any other horses?

Yea, I have about ten *She says chuckling*

*The vet nods. He seems impressed by the number of horses she has. He looks at her with a new sense of respect.* You're quite the horse lover, aren't you?

*My voice is like ice in the morning. I stand over you, watching you grovel with a smirk.* You're alive, at least. How's that head of yours?

I groan. "Go to hell.

*I can't help but chuckle. You're not the first to say that, but you're the first who's actually had a chance of surviving to say it again.* My, my. Such language. But I have to ask… how much did you drink last night?