Agent Rogue: Renegade

Chapter 3

The remaining few days of work leading up to Collins' birthday stretched into long hours of report-writing and Director-dodging, leaving Derek and I so tired that we barely said two words to each other as we dragged our feet to the apartment, silently falling into bed with barely a 'goodnight.' It was so tiring that the thought of a party was a welcome sight. The dress from Gabby, however, was a different story.

The facial expressions of Derek almost made me call an ambulance. His mouth had dropped open while his eyes had widened to the point where I could see more white than brown.

"You're...you're wearing colour!" He breathed. "Willingly."

"I can take it off if you want," I said, anxiously touching the hem of the laced sleeves.

"No!" He exclaimed. "Wait...no, keep it on."

I frowned. "Why did you...did you just—?"

"Please don't talk about that while I'm sat in your living room," Scotty called. "I might just vomit."

Derek lowered his eyebrows and poked his head around the bedroom door before closing it.

"How did he even hear that?!" He whispered.

I shrugged. "He's Scotty."

"So?"

"So, he's a mystery."

I grabbed my purse, filling it with my phone, money and a lip balm, before taking one last look in the mirror that stood in the corner of the bedroom. With a slight frown, I gently brushed my hair off my shoulder. Did I even suit the dress at all?

Arms wrapped around me from behind and I couldn't help but smile.

"Gabby did well with that dress."

"You think?"

"I know. But we better go before Scotty-boy freaks." 

He kissed my cheek and walked to the desk to pick up his phone. A smile remained plastered on his face for a moment until it suddenly faded as he stared at his dark reflection on the screen.

"Everything okay?" I asked. 

His mouth opened, hanging for a moment before he closed it again, straining a smile. "Yeah. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

I refrained from sighing. "You know, you can tell—"

"Can the two of you hurry up?!" Scotty yelled.

Derek glared at the door. "He really doesn't like me, does he?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

He blinked. "You're supposed to say. 'He does like you! Don't worry. That's just his personality."

"Would you want me to lie to you?" I said, raising my eyebrows. He frowned.

"No."

"There you go then."

The three of us sat in the back of a taxi as we made our way to Collins' so-called-house (that just happened to be bigger than my entire apartment building). The London skyline remained ignited like the orange embers of a fading flame as the clock struck seven, the chimes of Big Ben shaking London's bustling nightlife.

A Mercedes shot by. "Should I get a car?" I asked the boys.

"No," the two of them said. I frowned at them both.