The Blue Rose

4. Serena

FOUR

SERENA

B oozy Books is everything I’ve been hearing about and more. The moment you walk in, the walls are coated in a deep green. A subtle forest hidden within the depths of color that seem to suck up all excess light and sound, creating a muted but welcoming space. Music straight out of a fantasy novel flows throughout the room, transporting every listener to their favorite far away place with a simple crescendo. There's a steampunk vibe, pulling the whole bar together. Random pieces of art decorate the walls, from genre bending paintings and steamy sculptures, even what looks like handmade crafts from local artists and writers. In the corner sits a little book nook with hundreds, if not thousands, of different books from every genre you could think of, a literal library in the heart of the bar. There are two three-piece couches placed in an L-shape away from the bookshelves, and five bean bags on the floor. There is a little coffee table in the shape of a map in the middle, with several papasan chairs scattered about. Nearly every seat is taken, several people, unashamed in their reading preference, drape themselves throughout and take up the space. Lost in whatever story they have fallen into.

There’s no dress code, but it’s obvious Jess and I missed the memo for tonight. Readers wearing jewelry and accessories of their favorite characters cosplay in the various nooks around the bar. Acting out their favorite scenes in the safety of a space that welcomes everyone. The bar itself is towards the back of the building, offering drinks based on traditionally and indie published books from the past decade. There are several high top tables, giving people a place to rest between chapters, and a few open seats surrounding the high-top bar.

“Wow…” Jessica says, startling me from my admiration. “I can see why you wanted to come here. Where should we start first? Books or booze?”

We look at each other saying, “Booze-” at the same time, laughing as we head towards the open seats around the bar.

The bartender notices us right away and addresses me, “What can I get you tonight?”

Jess grabs my arm “We will have two moscow mules, please.”

Giving me a funny look, he looks at the space around me, and he shrugs, “Right away,” he says walking away, showing us the full extent of his Fae costume. Coming back a few minutes later, placing both drinks in front of me.

I grab one for myself, pushing the other towards Jessica, and earning another weird look from the bartender. What is this dude's issue? Why does he keep giving me weird looks?

Ignoring him completely, I sit back in the chair and start sipping my drink. Looking around at the patrons around me, I start to feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise, my arms breaking out in goosebumps. I feel a set of eyes searing through me, making me rub the back of my neck. I subtly crack my neck, searching for the eyes watching me and they zero in on a guy in the corner. From the shadows I see a smirk forming on his lips. He stands up, the low light of the bar still giving him a menacing look as he stalks towards me, knocking the breath from my lungs.

He stands well above six feet, sandy blond hair styled, in an intentionally messy way. His eyes are piercing green in the lazily strobing lights around us, but there is a darkness in them that he hides behind well. Too bad I’m familiar with hiding, I know where to look to see through the bullshit. His darkness draws me to him like a moth to a flame. He has a build like one I imagine Hades would have, and if he wanted to he could destroy me and break me in half, without breaking a sweat, and I would gladly let him. He is wearing a white shirt with a black leather jacket over it, long dark fitted jeans and black laced boots. He is dripping in sin and fuck, do I want to do sinful things with this man. I imagine him bending me over, plowing into me, stealing my very life with his cock. I want to sit on that perfect face and watch him feast.

He stands behind the chair next to mine, and as he takes off his jacket the first thing I notice is the orca jumping out of the blue waves on his right forearm. My eyes zero in on it, and I speak without thinking. “You know killer whales are the most deadly animal in the ocean? They even hunt great whites.”

He looks at me with a quizzical face, making me look away. He doesn’t speak, instead places both arms on the back of his chair, giving me a better view of all the ink he has.

There’s a black and white grim reaper holding a scythe in a cloak on his left bicep that morphs into blue roses leading all the way to his wrist. The roses remind me of my paintings, dark, but different shades of blue. Something we already have in common it seems. The reaper speaks for itself, a messenger of death, or death itself. I wonder which one it means to him? On the bottom of his wrist, there are the roman numerals MMII, but I’m not sure what those numbers mean.

My body isn’t connecting with my brain, because I find myself reaching out to touch the roses. Before my fingers land on his skin he speaks, voice low and husky. “The deadliest you say?”

I look up to see him with an amused smirk watching my hand almost touch him, and snatch it back, placing it in my lap, embarrassment rising to my cheeks. I nod my head too mortified with myself to look at him. I know he’s looking at me. I can feel his stare burning into the side of my head. Why would you do that, Serena? You don’t just go touching hot men because you feel like it.

“You know if you wanted to touch it all you had to do was ask.”

My head snaps to meet his eyes, eyes I’m just now noticing are a piercing green, and when the light hits them the right way, spots of blue show, making them look almost teal. “Beautiful.” I whisper.

“Sorry,” I shake my head, not able to tear myself away from his piercing gaze.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, and to answer your question from earlier, yes I did know.”

Confused, I ask, “Know what?”

“The whale,” he chuckles.

If I wasn’t horrified before, I am now. This poor man probably thinks I’m crazy, trying to touch him, then forgetting what we were even talking about because I’m literally getting lost in his eyes. I take a long sip of my Moscow mule, making myself shut up.

“You know you have beautiful eyes, too.” Straw still in my mouth, I turn to look at him, mouth slightly parted. “They remind me of the north sea, alluring, but dangerous.”

I’ve heard stories of the north sea, only the bravest go out there. After seeing the movie Frozen 2, the north sea became big on TikTok, and videos kept popping up on my feed. I went down the rabbit hole, and it is in fact dangerous, terrifying, but so beautiful. So many have lost their lives treading those waters.

He clears his throat, “I have more tattoos, then just the ones on my arms.”

My eyes light up. “Really? Can I see?”

“They’re covered right now, but I’ll show them to you, one day.”

“One day?”

“I promise,” there is something sinister, but tempting behind that promise. It has me wanting to ask more, but something tells me to leave it at that.

“I don’t have any tattoos, I want one, but I just don’t know what I’d get.” I create art all day long, making beautiful pieces for myself and clients. Getting to hang them up and take them down is different then choosing one piece and it being on your body forever.

He finally takes the seat next to me, “Why not?”

“What if one day you wake up and hate the art on your body, or you’re not the same person you were five years ago? Sure there’s coverups, or lasering it off, but the same problem, what if you hate it, and lasering, I’ve been told hurts more then the tattoo itself.”

His head rests on his hand as he stares and listens to me ramble on. Shut up Serena. “Plus the pain of the tattoo itself, I don’t know if I can endure that torture.”

He lifts off his hand, “If you add pleasure to the mix, then the sting of the tattoo is drowned out by the pleasure.”

“So you want me to either fuck the artist, or fuck myself while I get tattooed?” Something in his eyes sparkles at that.

“I can give you the tattoo.” That makes me spit out my drink, completely taken back from his words. Full on spray lands all over the bar top, creating a mess, making the bartender come over and grumble at me while cleaning it up. Does he want to please me or watch me touch myself?

“Sorry,” I whisper. He walks away, without sparing me another glance. “That was rude.” I turn back to the sinful man sitting next to me and see he’s glaring daggers at the bartender and his knuckles are starting to turn white. I do the only thing I can think of and place my hand gently over his fists, startling him. He pulls back, which makes me do the same and this time I’m apologizing to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you without permission, you just looked so angry, so I was trying to help.”

“Don’t apologize ever, to me or anyone else.” He says in a threatening voice.

“I’m sorry?” I ask, turning my head, “That wasn’t an apology, that was me asking what you mean.”

At that he chuckles and leans in, the sound coming from his voice has me clenching my thighs. “Never apologize for being who you are, that asshole will be the one sorry when karma gets him later.” He glances back at the bar keep and then back to me, “and don’t apologize for touching me, I was just shocked, quite literally when your skin met mine.”

Then I think about it, I didn’t realize it at first but when I touched him I did feel a spark. A small one, that I brushed off because I was more concerned with how he was feeling at the moment then feeling at all. “I felt it too.” I breathe.

His eyes pierce straight through me, to my very soul it feels like. I want to look away, but I can’t. I feel magnetized to him, and I don’t even know his name. “What’s your name?” I ask robotically.

“Aster, and yours?” He asks back in that same hypnotized voice.

“Serena.”

“Serena,” He says my name, like he’s tasting every letter. I watch as his lips plump out at the beginning and open slightly at the end. Now my eyes won’t leave his lips, and I find myself wanting to lean in and kiss him. He must have the same idea, because he’s staring at my lips, and leaning in too. The music and voices around us drowned out, like time itself has stopped, and it’s just us, here in this moment.

When he’s a breath away from tasting me, he clears his throat, leans back and taps the bar, gaining the bartender's attention. Ouch. Guess we weren’t thinking the same thing. “Another mule for this beautiful woman.”

Beautiful, but won’t kiss me, got it.

The bartender looks at me and says, “Her?”

If looks could kill, the bartender would’ve dropped dead in an instant. He shuts up, immediately spinning on his heel to get me another glass.

Just one look and this man has this asshole of a bartender just about pissing his pants. I want to be in his pants later. What is wrong with me? Maybe it is the fact that I haven’t been with anyone since my mothers passing five years ago. I haven’t even thought about having sex with anyone, but this man, just by breathing, he awoke the parts of me that have been sleeping for so long.

Stirring me from my thoughts by tapping the bar he asks, changing the subject. “So, Serena, come here often?”

That elicits a laugh from Jess who is sitting behind me, causing him to look at her as if finally noticing I’m not alone. He stares daggers at her, his eyes looking like a black pit of death, making the laughing cease, bringing his attention back to me.

I can’t believe he just glanced at her, men are usually falling at her feet. Am I dreaming? If I am, this is a dream I never want to wake up from. “Smooth transition to change the subject,” I tease.

My boldness has his eyebrows raising, and then a small grin crosses his beautiful face. “Are you talking about me giving you a tattoo, and distracting you from the pain?”

Didn’t think he would admit to that so quickly, honestly thought he would try to change the subject again. Girls got to shoot her shot, so I played into it, laying my hand on the bartop and leaving my fingers inches from him. If he wanted to, which I hope he does, he could touch my hand lightly and even interlock our fingers. “How would you distract me from the pain?”

He looks down at my palm, bringing his fingers closer, almost as if he can’t stop himself. His fingers are centimeters from mine, making me hold my breath waiting for the moment they touch, but that moment doesn’t come. Leaning in he whispers, “I make my little lambs scream, are you going to scream for me little lamb?

Yes, God yes. His confession has my mouth going dry, and my panties soaking wet. “If I’m a little lamb, does that make you a fox?”

Shock registers on his face, but it’s so quick if I wasn’t staring so hard at him I would have missed it, then he grins sinfully and says “We have all of tonight to find out.”`

I shift in my seat trying to get some release off of the pressure building low. A blush starts heating up my face, and I know he sees it because he looks at me and smirks. I probably look like a tomato, anytime I blush or get embarrassed, my whole face turns red, not just my cheeks. You can never tell which emotion I’m feeling, but I have a suspicion Aster knows exactly what I’m feeling. I blame my mother, I got her pale complexion making me burn, instead of tan in the summer. I usually stay in doors anyway, I prefer the cold to the heat, always have.

Jess clears her throat behind me, reminding me we’re not alone.

I turn around, “I’m so sorry, Jess, I forgot to introduce you.” I point to her, “Jessica, Aster, Aster, Jessica.”

He looks at her with confusion pinching his eyes. He’s probably confused with why a girl like her would hang out with a girl like me. The way he’s looking at her, is like he's looking through her. Looking back at me with curious eyes, he tilts his head, not giving her the time of day.

I should be upset that he’s ignoring my best friend, but I’m not. She’s the one who always attracts all the attention, while I’m just in the background. For once I feel like the star, the one in the spotlight, so my caring has gone out the window.

Jess scoffs and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to head over to the books. It seems Aster here is very much interested in you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and for once get your dick wet.” She winks and walks away, leaving us alone and me praying he didn’t hear the end of that.

I love the girl, but she can be a little too forward at times, especially for me, and I honestly hate it.

My phone lights up a minute later. I go to check it, but Aster touches my hand bringing my full attention back to him.

“When you’re with me, I want all of your attention on only me.”

I nod my head aimlessly and put my phone into my bag. He’s demanding, and I usually hate men like that, but with him I find myself wanting to do exactly what he says. If he told me to open up, I’d ask how wide? If he wanted to spit in my mouth, as gross as that is, I’d swallow every drop. He’s like a drill sergeant, a sexy one, and I’m his lieutenant following every order given.

“Good girl,” Oh fuck me, please fuck me. I have been dreaming of a man to say those words to me ever since I started reading romance novels. Those two words have me wanting to drop to my knees right now, just to hear him say them again.

My eyes drop to his crotch, seeing the outline in his jeans of his hard on. Making me smile, knowing the feelings I’m having are the same as his. He speaks, making my eyes snap back up to his. I hope he didn’t see me ogling his dick. “Now, do you want to tell me why you look like you’re trying to forget the world tonight, little lamb?”

That takes me by surprise, we go from flirty, to serious. Talk about whiplash. I did just have that whole fiasco with my dad, but there is no way in hell I want to unravel my burdens on him. The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t taking no for an answer.

I take a deep breath and let out a nervous laugh,“Did I look like I wanted to forget my problems?” I thought I was doing a good job at masking my pain like I usually do, but he saw right through me. The only one who can see through my bullshit is Jessica, no one else has, until him.

His eyes soften, making them look more blue, then green. “You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders tonight, and I would like to help lift some of it. If you’ll let me?”

This man just keeps surprising me. Not only are his tattoos amazing; I definitely want to see the hidden ones. I might even take him up on his offer and let him do one on me. He’s hot, tall, has a way with words, and now considerate. No way he’s real, someone has to be pranking me. I start looking around, trying to see if there are any cameras. Nothing, okay, so I pinch myself next, definitely not dreaming. Where did he come from?

I stare at him, curiosity, and disbelief weighing my mind. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want to bore you with my trivial life problems.” Plus, I don’t want to tell some hot stranger my issues, and scare him away when he actually seems to be interested in me. Maybe he is more interested in getting into my pants? Especially with all the earlier comments, I wouldn’t be surprised or opposed to. After all this time, I could go find an empty stall in the bathroom and let him have his way with me.

“What if I want to be bothered by them?”

I sit stunned and unsure what to think about him. Should I tell him about my daddy problems or just table it for another night? He’s looking at me with the same face, so I slam down the rest of my drink, take a deep breath, and tell him the events of today.

Fuck it, maybe telling him will help me lift the weights off my shoulders.

He sits back, listening to me ramble on and complain about my father, and he’s so attentive, responding with head nods and small noises to let me know he’s listening, but letting me talk and get it all out. When I’m all done, breathing heavy and taking another sip of my third drink, he finally speaks.

“Thank you for telling me, I don’t blame you for getting out of the car and walking away, I think it was the right decision.” He places his hand under my chin and lifts it up so I’m looking at him, my eyes glassy. “You have nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for, it sounds like your father needs to come back begging on his knees for your forgiveness.”

I laugh through the sniffling. “Thanks Aster, that really does mean a lot”

He swipes the tear, that I didn’t even realize had fallen. “Now, don’t you feel better getting that all off of your chest?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. I guess unloading your heart to a stranger really does help.”

He puts his hand on his chest, sitting back as if I hurt him. “Serena, I thought we were friends, not strangers, especially after such a deep conversation,” he jokes.

I laugh a little, “Well, it takes a little longer than that, to reach friend status. I say you’re getting close to acquaintance status. Maybe a few more dates and you can call yourself a friend.”

He smirks, “Oh is this a date? I thought this was just two strangers getting to know each other and having a drink. One telling the other about the horrible day she was having.”

“Well, I didn’t necessarily mean it was a date. Shit! Sorry, I meant like-”

He grabs my hand, and I feel a stronger shock throughout my whole body that surprises us both. Our hands shoot back, both of us startled from the power behind it. He stares at me with curious eyes, bringing his hand back to lay back on mine. “Relax, Serena, I was just fucking with you, but if you wanted to go on a date all you had to do was ask.”

“Shit, yeah. I mean do you want to go on a date with me?” I lean forward, eager for his answer. Getting butterflies from the rubbing of his thumb on my hand.

He leans in so close I can smell the sandalwood on his skin, and mint on his breath. He’s inches from my lips, my body alighting at his nearness. Is he actually going to kiss me this time? He whispers, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

I light up, thrilled he actually said yes. “Really? You actually want to go on a real date with me, someone you just met, who just minutes ago ranted about her entire shitty day?”

“Yes, I do, and if you give me your number, we can plan our date.”

A smile lifts my lips. “Wow, that was a pretty sly way of asking for my number.”

“Had to get it sometime tonight,” he says, holding out his hand for my phone.

“Didn’t you ask for my number and not the other way around?” I ask accusingly, handing him my phone anyway. Instead of answering he takes out his ancient flip phone, one I didn’t think a man like him would have. Not that I’m judging, it’s weird for anyone besides older people to not have a smartphone. I take his phone, typing in my name and number, close it and then hand it back,

He hands me mine back, and I see he put his name in as Fox. I look up at him, eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you put fox and not your name?”

He gives me a sinister smile, “Little lamb, you will find out soon enough.”

Getting sucked into his stare once again, I’m shaken from the spell, when I feel my stomach and legs wet. I hear the chair scrape across the floor and Aster looking like he’s about ready to jump over the bar and strangle the person responsible for my wet dress.

Wide eyed, and mortified, tears starting to form. I look up at the smirking bartender. “Oops, my bad, that was an accident, and we’re closed, so leave.”

It was no accident, he knows that, I know that, everyone left here knows that. He could’ve been nice, told us it was closing time, instead he had to pour a drink on me embarrassing me. What did I do to deserve this?

The feeling of embarrassment is gone as I feel it drip down my leg onto my shoes. My hands start to flex, my eyes starting to twitch, and my teeth grinding together.

Before I can even stop myself, my body reacts out of peer rage and I’m out of my chair, “Hey asshole.”

“Excuse me?-” He turns around and I punch him right in the face, hoping to leave a black eye.

“What the fuck?” He screams, holding his eye.

He rears his hand back, and I close my eyes, bracing myself for impact, but the sting never comes. I open my eyes and see Aster has caught the bartender's wrist, rolls of something terrifying coming off of him in waves, it’s anger, sinister, pure hatred. His reaction is pulling at my heartstrings.

The bartender tries to pull his grip out of Aster's hold, but he won’t let go, he won’t speak, he just looks like he’s going to kill him any second. It isn’t until I place my hand on Aster’s shoulder that he’s jolted from his trance releasing his hand. Placing his arm around my shoulder, he throws his leather jacket around me.

I look up at him and whisper, “Thank you.” Hugging his jacket tighter around me.

He looks forward, eyes still glossed over in anger, “He’ll be meeting the Grim reaper soon,” he says menacingly.

Something about his promise should scare me, but with how he was acting towards me the whole night, it doesn't. I only wish I could be there when the messenger of death comes for him.

Stepping outside, I see Jessica sitting on the curb, shivering, waiting by the Uber, she must have ordered for us inside. Why she didn’t get in I don’t understand. She stands up, and opens the door to the Uber, not saying a word and getting in. She’s pissed.

I can’t believe I forgot about Jessica, it’s only September, but it’s a colder night. Both being in dresses, I know she has to be turning into a popsicle. I feel bad, but not enough to want to stop talking. If it wasn’t for this place closing and the bartender, I would stay here all night, probably until the next morning.

Now I’ll never come back.

Before he walks away he grabs my hand and kisses it. “Until next time, little lamb.” The butterflies that were fluttering earlier are now in a full on frenzy.

I stand staring after him, completely in a trance until I feel Jessica pull me towards the Uber.

We get in the car, and I glance back hoping to catch one final look of Aster before he leaves. He’s standing on the sidewalk, watching as our Uber pulls out. Jessica tugs my arm, turning to me with excited expectancy on her face, waiting for all the details.

I tell her everything that transpired, hardly believing the words coming out of my mouth. The Uber driver looks at me with a weird face through the rearview mirror. I look at him with the same face and give him my address.

He shakes his head and mumbles, “crazy bitch.”

I ignore his crude words and go back to telling Jessica about my night. The driver navigates through the city to my house, occasionally looking back at me, but he doesn’t say anything else. The Uber drops me off first, and I hug and kiss Jess goodnight, telling her to text me when she gets home before making my way inside.

Heading straight to my room, I change into my pajamas and hear a ding from my phone. Looking at it, I see it’s from Fox. I go into his contact, changing his name because I like Aster much better than Fox.

Aster

Goodnight little lamb.

I don’t bother to send a reply, instead I lay in bed holding my phone gleefully like a child and fall asleep thinking about Aster and the night we had. Hoping to see him again in my dreams.

Stirring from my sleep, already missing the smell of sandalwood and mint, I rush to my canvas compelled to add yet another blue rose to my forever growing painting of roses. I don’t know what they mean, but after I have a nightmare, I feel compelled to paint a new one onto the canvas, never feeling like it’s complete. After I paint the final petal, I get out a clean canvas and paint the nightmare I had, trying to shake off the hold it has on me, despite being awake. I place it with the other nightmare paintings I keep hidden from everyone, letting it dry with my secret paintings.

These are my favorite, so dark and twisted I’ll never share them with another soul, not even Jess. These are parts of me that make me question my sanity and humanity for loving them so much. Every time I paint them, every part of me awakens, and I never want this feeling to go away.

Cleaning up, I head to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. There’s nothing like a nice hot mug in the early morning. Looking out my kitchen window at the sunrise, the sky is full of life, yellows and oranges streaking across the sky like an abstract painting. We should go to a haunted house, for our first date. Graves, the best haunted house, opens up soon, and I think Aster would enjoy it as much as me, but tickets are impossible to get. I sigh, Thinking about Aster, and his magnetic eyes, and I can’t help the eerie feeling that blankets me. I Brush it off, wishing the nightmare I just had would linger a little longer.

Remembering the text from last night, I grab my phone and shoot off a response to Aster.

Serena

Good Morning Aster.

Setting my phone down I bask in the afterglow of my nightmare and stare off into the sunrise.