Beauty in the Ashes

Three in the morning? Who the fuck would be throwing a party at this time?

I had finally fallen asleep, only to be roused by this? Great.

With a high-pitched groan I thrust the bed covers off of me. I slipped my feet into my bunny slippers—complete with ears, of course—and stormed towards the door.

I yanked it open so harshly that it banged against the wall.

The music and other noise was coming from the apartment to the left of me. With a fire simmering beneath the surface of my skin, I stomped down the hall, raising my fist and pounding on the door.

The sounds of people laughing, talking, and having a jolly good time met my ears.

The door finally swung open and I looked up into the dark eyes of a very good looking Asian guy. His dark hair was longer in the front and shorter on the sides. The wisps that hung in his eyes were dyed a neon green color. A lip ring adorned his plump bottom lip—and those lips were currently turned into a smirk as he watched me, leaning casually against the door with arms crossed over a chest that I was sure was well sculpted. I wanted to laugh at the fact that he was dressed in black slacks and a white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It seemed too fancy for a party being thrown at three in the morning—and for a guy with green accents in his hair.

“Can I help you?” He asked, boredom lacing his tone.

My sass instantly returned as I pushed all thoughts of his attractiveness out of my head. “Yeah, you can, actually. Turn the music down.”

A single brow rose on his forehead. “No.”

I wanted to roll my eyes.

The irony in this conversation didn’t escape me, and I now understood how Caelan felt anytime he asked me to turn down my music—which he had done several times in the past week. I always refused.

What made the situations different however, was the fact that I was playing my music at a reasonable hour when people were still awake.

“It’s three in the morning!” I cried, the sounds of an upbeat party song drowning out my words. The poor music choice was enough to make me gag.

“So?” He looked down and studied his nails like they were way more interesting than anything I had to say.

I bit down sharply on my tongue, but was saved from answering by Caelan storming out of his apartment.

His eyes were wide with anger and his jaw was tight.

Without saying a word, he surged forward, cocking his arm back and ramming it into the man’s face. I saw blood spurt out before the man covered it with his hands.

“I fucking told you, Cyrus,” Caelan seethed, spit flying past his lips with his words, “if you ever disturbed me while I was working again, I’d break your fucking nose! I always keep my promises!” His face was red and he breathed heavily as if he’d just run several miles.

Cyrus, I assumed, slid his back down the door, glaring up at Caelan.

“You’re a fucking prick, Gregory.” His voice was thick.

Caelan spread his arms wide. I noticed for the first time that he was unsteady on his feet and his eyes were slightly glassy. I assumed the way he’d come flying out of his apartment had distracted me from the obvious fact that he was raging drunk. “At least I own what I am,” he slurred and then curtsied, I kid you not.

He stumbled back to his apartment and I looked from his door to Cyrus.

“I’ll turn the music down.” The lump on the floor finally spoke. “You know…from down here, your ass looks real nice.”

My mouth popped open and my cheeks colored as horror filled me. I was in my underwear and a tank. That was it. In my haste to scold the party thrower, I’d forgotten clothes.

“Oh, and nice slippers.”

I closed my eyes.

Those damn slippers!

“I’m Cyrus, by the way,” he continued to speak from the floor, acting like his nosebleed was perfectly normal, “and yoooou must be Sutton, my new neighbor. Welcome, love,” he waggled his eyebrows while mimicking a fake British accent.

“Oh, so you’re British now?” I crossed my arms over my chest—trying to act like the fact that I was standing in front of him practically naked didn’t bother me.