CHAPTER 447: ROSE WITH THORNS (8)

After escaping the chaos of salesgirls and swooning staff in the clothing section, Rose felt like she’d just survived a war. Her cheeks were still red from embarrassment, and Loki—of course—was enjoying every second of it. He strutted beside her with shopping bags in one hand and his ego inflated to the size of the mall itself.

Just when she thought her humiliation was done, they reached the next horrifying stop: the men’s underwear store.

The moment she saw the neon signage that screamed "Confidence Starts Inside", Rose’s legs stopped working. She stared at the storefront like it was a crime scene.

Loki blinked beside her. "What now, pheasant?"

Rose snapped out of her trance. "I... I am not going in there."

Loki raised a brow. "Then how am I supposed to buy—"

"Here!" she shoved her card into his hand like it was a live grenade. "Just—just go buy whatever brand or size or style you wear. I don’t care about whatever price is. Just go. Alone."

Loki stared at the card, then at her, then at the glowing sign above.

He smirked slowly. "Are you embarrassed, pheasant?"

"No!" she said, voice two pitches too high.

"Oh, you are," he purred, leaning in. "Are you imagining me trying them on?"

Rose clutched her jacket like a shield. "Buy. Them. Now."

He winked. "Anything for you."

Then he turned and walked into the store like he owned the place, leaving a steaming, flustered Rose behind—who immediately spun on her heel, stomped off toward the smoothie stall across the hallway, and told herself over and over, he’s just a guest... a very annoying, smug, ridiculously handsome guest... who better not come back wearing anything weird.

After the endless shopping ordeal finally ended, Rose exhaled the biggest sigh of relief in history. She leaned back into the car seat like a soldier returning from war.

"That’s it," she muttered to herself.

Beside her, Loki looked perfectly pleased with himself. He was leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, new sunglasses pushed up into his dark hair, wearing a smug grin like he’d just won something.

"Today was fun," he said, stretching like a lazy cat. "I enjoyed watching you explode every ten minutes."

Rose shot him a dry look. "You are literally the most annoying person I’ve ever met."

He turned to her, beaming. "You flatter me."

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost gave her a headache.

***

When they reached Rose’s apartment, she unlocked the door, stepped in, and tossed her shoes off with the energy of someone about to collapse onto the couch for the next six hours.

Unfortunately, her guest had other plans.

"Turn on the TV," Loki said, already plopping down on the couch and snatching the remote like he lived there.

Rose didn’t even blink. She turned around slowly, cracked her knuckles, and pointed toward the shopping bags.

"Bathroom. Now."

Loki blinked. "What?"

"You’ve touched every dusty hanger in this city. You’ve been outside all day. You’re still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. You even sniffed a mannequin at one point—I saw it. Go. Bathe. Now."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You talk like a mom."

"And you smell like a wild raccoon," Rose snapped, grabbing the remote from his hand.

He frowned. "You wound me, pheasant."

"Shower," she said, walking away.

Loki pouted like a sulky cat, grabbed a towel from the bag, and finally trudged toward the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, Rose collapsed onto the couch, hugging a pillow.

"Why me?" she whispered to the ceiling.

****

When Loki finally stepped out of the bathroom—barefoot, damp hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped lazily around his neck—Rose looked up from her spot on the couch and immediately narrowed her eyes.

He looked too pleased with himself.

"You used my body wash, didn’t you?" she asked flatly.

Loki grinned, that same slow, smug grin that made her want to chuck a throw pillow at his head. "Your bodywash smells like you," he said with a satisfied shrug, like he’d just discovered something profound.

Rose rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt. "Of course it does," she snapped, "because I use it."

"Hmm." He plopped down beside her on the couch, making himself entirely at home like this was his personal spa retreat. "Then I approve. You have good taste."

Rose scooted away an inch. "I had bought you your own stuff."

"Yeah, but yours was already there." He leaned back, arms stretched behind his head. "Besides, it’s more fun to use your things. Makes me feel closer to you."

She gawked at him. "That is not how hygiene works!"

Loki just looked at her with those golden-brown eyes that gleamed with lazy amusement. "Relax, pheasant girl. I smell like flowers now."

"You smell like my shampoo!"

"Exactly. We match."

Rose groaned and buried her face in a cushion. "This is going to be a long week..."

Later that evening, Rose stood in the kitchen with her arms crossed, glaring at the guy lounging on her couch like he paid rent.

"I’m not cooking," she declared.

Loki, still in the same smug mood he’d carried all day, lazily looked over his shoulder. "Then feed me some other way, pheasant girl. I’m starving."

"You’re impossible," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. There’s a restaurant five minutes from here. I’m taking you. But only because I don’t want to deal with you whining all night."

She grabbed her Jacket and walked to the door, not bothering to look back. "Move it."

Loki jumped to his feet instantly, grinning like a child who just got promised candy. "Finally! Real food."

"It’s not for you. It’s for my sanity," she said as she locked the door behind them.

The night air was cool, the soft streetlights casting a gentle glow across the sidewalks as the two of them walked side by side. Rose didn’t say much. She still felt awkward with him around. He was good-looking, sure—annoyingly good-looking but he was also weird, rude, and way too comfortable making himself at home in her apartment.

Loki, on the other hand, looked like he belonged on a runway, hands in his pockets, casually strolling like they were going on a romantic evening date instead of a reluctant trip to feed a stubborn stranger.

They arrived at a small corner restaurant, warmly lit with golden lanterns hanging outside. The windows fogged lightly from the steam of hot food inside. It wasn’t fancy, but it was cozy. Just the way Rose liked it.

As they stepped in, the bell above the door jingled. A few heads turned. One waitress paused mid-step when her eyes landed on Loki.

Rose sighed. Of course.

They got seated quickly, a booth near the window, and Rose shoved a menu toward him.

"Pick something simple. And don’t even think about ordering five dishes."

Loki leaned back with a relaxed smile. "You’re so controlling. I like that."

"Do you want to eat or not?"

He chuckled. "Alright, alright. One meal. But I get dessert."

"Whatever."

Once the food came, Rose watched with mild disbelief as Loki devoured his plate like he hadn’t eaten in days. He even made appreciative noises—soft, satisfied hums that drew a few more stares from nearby tables.

"You eat like it’s the greatest thing in the world," she muttered.

He licked sauce from his thumb and replied, "When you’ve gone without, you learn to appreciate the little things. Like warm food. A real bed. And pretty girls who pretend they don’t care." After all, he didn’t get human food like this back in Hell—it was so delicious! His servants only ever made him cat food. Fish! Meat! Just meat!!

Rose blinked. "Excuse me?"

Loki just grinned and took another bite, completely unbothered.

She frowned and looked out the window, hiding the fact that her ears were turning pink.

After dinner, the two of them stepped out into the quiet night. The air was cool, the streetlights casting soft pools of gold along the sidewalk. Rose walked ahead a little, arms folded, still pretending she wasn’t amused by how much Loki had enjoyed his food. He walked beside her with that lazy grin on his face, humming under his breath.

But just as they turned the corner near her apartment building, her heel caught the uneven pavement.

"Ah—!" she gasped.

Her ankle twisted, and before she could even hit the ground, an arm swept around her waist and another caught her wrist.

Loki.

"Careful," he muttered, pulling her against his chest like it was second nature.

Rose blinked, wide-eyed, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him. His golden-brown eyes weren’t smug this time. They were... different. Focused. Serious.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice lower, quieter than usual.

"I—yeah. I just... twisted my foot, I think," she muttered, still catching her breath.

"You’re so clumsy," he said, but there was no insult in his tone. He looked down at her ankle, still holding her like she was made of something fragile.

She tried to step back, but a sharp jolt of pain shot up her leg and she hissed.

"Tsk. Don’t move," Loki said firmly. And before she could argue, he bent down, one arm slipping under her legs, the other supporting her back.

"W-What are you doing?!" Rose stammered as he lifted her easily off the ground.

"Carrying you, obviously. You’re limping, and I’m not letting you crawl like a snail all the way home."

"But you—!"

"Shhh." He raised an eyebrow. "You’re making too much noise, pheasant girl."