'Stupid Lecturer, stupid moron."

I grind out as I continuously stomp my feet through the deadbeat hallway of my university building.

"He even has the decency to laugh, prick." I muttered to myself, before swinging open the door into the fresh air, the sidewalk littered with people stopping to stare, like watching monkeys at the zoo. Not like they've never seen someone covered in bright blue paint before. Rolling my eyes, I flung myself down the steps, head down and fast pacing myself towards the nearest shopping mall.

Oh my what happened?

Someone's looking a little blue.

Snorting at the comments I was receiving while travelling to the, luckily on five-minute walk away, mall, they seemed to be the most ridiculously slow minutes as almost everyone within touching distance of me stopped and turned to snicker at my looks. It's paint, get over it. It also wasn't my fault.

Damn Lecturer.

Stupid man for picking on me, just because I was looking out the window instead of at him, I was listening, promise.

Where you really Rayne?

Let's be honest, my mind couldn't stop thinking about that one night. The stupid date night which happened last week. For the past five days I've been locking myself away, rocking on my bed and blasting all sorts of heavy metal through my headphones.

It didn't go away.

No matter how much Jess comforted me, cried with me, screamed with me. No matter how much junk food she brought me everyday, his face never left my mind. I swear I saw it, I swear.

"Get over it." I spat at myself, pushing through the doors of the mall and heading straight to the most overpriced shop I could find. I felt like treating myself, when you're upset, you spend. And boy was I going to go all out today.

Sod my lecturer.

Screw walking back into that classroom looking like a Smurf.

I still couldn't' believe he had the nerve to yell at me to come back, he was the one who wanted me to go inside the art cupboard and bring out the new box of acrylic paints. He was the one who has balanced them on the edge of the shelf and he was the one who distracted me as I was going to pick them up.

Blue, fucking, everywhere.

"Hey, Rayne." Nicola's voice yanked me out of my annoyed state, her smile widening on her face at the sheer shock on mine. "Did I scare ya?" She laughed, jabbing me lightly in the side. Rolling my eyes at her, I lightly shoved her back.

"No," I mumbled, chuckling quietly. Her grin widened.

"Alright, alright," She held her hands up in surrender, "Let me know if you need help, okay?" I nodded, watching as she span around and wondered over to an older lady looking at a pair of shorts which would most definitely not suit her, I mean they wouldn't even flatter Beyoncé, those shorts were hideous. Nicola looked back at me a look of pure humour plastered over her face, it was quite obvious in all of her six months working here she hadn't seen a eighty-something year old wanting to try on gold hot-pants.

"Dear God." I couldn't help breathe out, she was mad. Those poor Grandchildren of hers must be devastatingly embarrassed. Well, that's if she had Grandkids.

Nicola was trying to steer her away from the shorts towards a better-looking pair of three-quarter lengths jeans but she wasn't having any of it. Cracking a smile I began looking around before I saw myself in the mirror.

Oh right, the blue.

Crap.

I fast-paced it around the store, picking up t-shirt after t-shirt and almost flinging pairs of jeans on my arms, before I knew it my pile of clothes had increased to about twenty items.

Goodbye, money.

"Is it okay if I go into the changing rooms?" I called out to a frustrated Nicola, still with the older woman. She looked up at me, pain lighting up her eyes, that woman must be taking it out on her.

"Go ahead." I nodded thanks to her before spinning around and heading past the neon sign that read changing rooms. The small box room consisted of four enclosed cubicles, each numbered one to four, oblivious to the fact that most people can actually count to at least five. Myself included. 

Closing the door of number three, I flung the clothing onto the small seat inside, almost slapping myself at the lack of colour I picked out. Black, grey, white and navy, I couldn't have chosen a more direct way of explaining my feelings. Sad.

Sighing, I picked out the smallest t-shirt I had ever seen. Was it cropped? Holding it up against myself, yep, definitely cropped, most definitely showy. Groaning I flung off my blue plastered jumper and wiped the sleeve, the only clean part of it, and wiped the dry crusty flakes off of my face.

Stupid lecturer.

As soon as I tried the crop top on I almost gave up shopping and walked straight out of the shop. It was disgusting. I was disgusting. How did I not realise it had two avocados on it? You know, over those parts.

"People buy this?" I mumbled to myself. "Next!" I exclaimed, pulling the top back over my head and almost tearing the only thing I could actually afford off of the hanger. A short black dress, well this is going to look bad.

I wiggled and I squirmed, and with a huff I realised the dress zips up from the back. The back. Do designers not think of the people with small arms, or those without partners to help them? Sighing I stopped trying extend, my obviously not super stretchy, arms and crossed them across my chest in a huff.

The dress didn't look too bad. It fell to about knee height and practically wrapped itself around every curve I owned, or lack of, I should say. The material itself was made of velvet, soft to touch I almost couldn't help myself running my hands along the hem, suddenly wishing it was someone else hands.

His hands.

Nope.

Speak, or think, of the devil and he shall appear.

"Oh I like it, is it for me?" He purred, quite literally appearing from nowhere. His hair dishevelled looking like he was in a rush getting ready.

"Holy sh-" My profanities were cut of as Thorns hands clamped around my mouth, one across my lips the other grabbing my hair, almost locking my head in place. I looked up into the mirror, his eyes locking with mine, the blue almost shining with excitement.

I heard shuffling outside of the changing room. The person hung around outside, all the while my eyes never wavered from Thorns, his hands still keeping me in place. We both listened as footsteps began walking away.

"Do you want to get caught?" He growled in my ear. I rolled my eyes. No, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind it, prick. He pursed lips turned into a sinister smile. "Will you be quiet?" He asked. I nodded.

Very slowly Thorn began to remove his hands, my hair running through his fingers as he released the hand in my hair. As his tight grip on my mouth loosened, I screamed.

"You bastar-," within a second his hands where back to his original position. This time, however, they were even tighter, painfully so. He pushed my against the mirror, his body flattening mine. I could feel all of him. And I mean all of him.

"I swear if you try that again, sunshine. It will be your last sound." Thorn had turned sour. His blue eyes had darkened so deep I couldn't tell where his iris met his pupil. I stopped breathing. There was no sound. Just us, smashed against a mirror, eyes locked in a battle, willing the other to back down.

It was me who gave up. With his rock hard self-trapping body holding me against the cold mirror, I couldn't take it. And for that, I hate myself. It was too much, too much Thorn.

Just too much.

"Let me go." I whispered, eyes dropping from his. Thorn knew I wouldn't try anything, of course he knew, he could read every thought, every lust filled thought. Slowly he stepped back.

"Get changed." He grunted before unlocking the changing room door and leaving me alone.

I wasn't sure how long I had stood still, staring at the closed cubicle door, but as my body began to work again, my movements were almost robotic. The dress, which at some point Thorn had zipped up, fell to the floor, along with a few droplets.

I was crying.

Today was not my day.

I must have taken at least twenty minutes psyching myself up to walk outside, still in my paint covered clothes by the way, and get ready to face the wrath that I knew was out there. I didn't want too. The tears had stopped a while ago but exhaustion had hit. I just wanted to go home. Without Thorn.

With one last breath I stepped out. It was like the cubicle was in a different world. Shoppers floated around the store, minding their own business, oblivious to what had happened inside the changing cubicle. I noticed that Nicola had left; her shift must have finished a while ago.

I looked around for Thorn, fully expecting to find myself alone, but he was there. His eyes locked on mine across the shop floor, almost willing me to walk towards him. He knew. He knew I had cried. Reluctantly I headed toward him, putting the pieces of clothing I didn't want back on the rails as I shuffled past them.

We met in the middle.

"What do you want?" He asked "The dress? Anything else?"

"I-umm-wha-" I stuttered out. It was like nothing had happened. He didn't let me speak; he took the black dress out of my arms and bee lined for the counter. The latest shop assistant on her shift almost beaming at Thorn as he practically catwalk modelled up to the till. Dick.

He looked back in question, whether at my thoughts or giving me a look to hurry my ass up.

Ah what the hell.

"Can I have that t-shirt?" I pointed at the dreaded crop top as he strolled past it, those two avocados standing out against the otherwise plain white tee. Thorn raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. Out loud.

I can't wait to see you in that. His laugh echoed in my mind as he took it of the rail and stepped up to the counter, the girl behind glaring at me. Don't look at me like that, bitch, he's not mine.

It was like he was in the mood to torture me. Contrary to my thoughts, Thorn wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed the top of my head. I wanted to punch him, crybaby Rayne had left the building, but instead of badass Rayne, that kiss had brought some other me in.

I was on fire; it felt like someone had poured boiling water over my head, as the heat of his kiss travelled from the roots of hair to the tips of my fingers and toes. It burned.

With a bright red face, I watched as the shop assistant backed down and allowed Thorn to pay.

With his arm still around my shoulders, Thorn grinned down at me and began to lead me out of the store, shopping bags hanging off of his other arm. But as I stared up at his smile, his genuine and inviting smile, I couldn't help but think...

Why was he being so nice?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

What's this? A new chapter? OH MY GOD.

I realised I must have written part of this chapter a while back so thought I'd finish it off and upload it for you guys.

Let me know what you think and Why is Thorn being nice?

Thanks you lovely bunch of cookies! :)