Dedication: RChipsy for voting and literally supporting all of my stories. I love you girl!

Eraser; | i' raser| noun; an object, typically a piece of soft rubber plastic, used to rub out something written. – New Oxford American Dictionary

Chapter three; eraser

After rudely, but very happily, hanging up on Arthur I spent the rest of my morning watching cartoons and reading cheesy Nicholas Sparks novels while having a few more cups of coffee.

            So on top of being extremely ticked off at Arthur, I'm also really wired. To say I'm a little skittish would be the understatement of the century.

            My hands shake slightly as I walk to the park, thinking of about a million different ways to murder the little brat when I see him. I could rip his arms off and beat him to death with the gross ends. Or I could tie a weight to his ankle and push him into the lake. Or possibly go old school and throw a freaking big rock at his freaking ugly face and give him a freaking concussion.

            Take notice people; this is why you don't watch criminal minds. It just fuels the fire to moments like this. And I should possibly also probably lay off the coffee.

So no, I guess I won't kill him. I'll just scream at him until his ears bleed.

I glare daggers at the boy straight ahead. He hasn't noticed me but I have about three point zero seconds until he does – and he sees me.

I groan when he waves me over, patting the spot next to him on the bench as if we're old high school friends catching up.

Well guess what, you sick piece of-

"Hey, Lovely." He half smiles all innocent and it's almost believable. Almost.

"Alright, give it to me so I don't have to see your face for longer than necessary." I hold out my hand. He looks up into my eyes before glancing at my hand then back up to my eyes.

"Oh come on, Lovely, just sit and relax for a little bit. It can't hurt." He shrugs making me want to rib his arms out of their sockets. Okay, jeez, I've got to stop being so violent.

I lick my lips and close my eyes in attempt to find some peace of mind before they open again and I plaster a fake smile on my face. He, of course, doesn't know it's fake but that's kind of the point.

He smiles back, looking genuinely happy for my cooperation. I sit next to him, my skin itching with the need to scoot away. "Arthur, could I possibly maybe have my notebook please?" I give him my sweetest smile and flutter my lashes for good measure.

His usual smirk finally breaks through and I feel my violent tendencies fight to surface and I restrain from wrapping my hands around his scrawny little neck. "Oh but you see, Lovely, I don't have it."

I'm taken aback, confused and slightly panicked. My eyes widen slightly. "What? Then where is it? Where's my notebook, that's extremely important to me." My voice unintentionally breaks at the end and I clear my throat but by the look on his face, I'm guessing he noticed anyway.

"Calm down. I have it it's just at my house; hidden...safely of course." He assures me, licking his lips and swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

I feel slightly better at knowing it's not lying in a ditch somewhere or something. He doesn't understand why it's so important me. How could he? So I decide to take it easy on him. As far as he knows, it's just a notebook.

"Okay." I breathe, "And you haven't...read it or anything, right?"

His cheeks go red at my suggestion and he hastily shakes his head. "No! Of course not! I'm not as much of a jerk as you think, you know."

"I beg to differ." I mumble and his eyes narrow at me, "I mean you did steal my notebook and now you're holding it hostage to get me to do what you want. If that's not an example of a royal jerk, I don't know what is." I cross my arms over my chest.

I would have stood up and left by now if this idiot didn't have my notebook. I'd be long gone and at home, laughing with my mom on how I'd schooled the dumb guy at the park and gotten my notebook home safe and sound.

Sadly, life isn't that easy and the universe must hate me because now I have no choice but to succumb to this jerk bag's wishes. Ugh, that sounded even more horrible than I thought it would.

"Fine." I growl. No more Mr. Nice Guy...in female terms, of course, "What do you want?"

He looks rather pleased with himself with his hands crossed in his lap and a sparkling and triumphant smile planting itself on his face. "Look, Lovely, I'm not normally like this. You've just caught me at a very stressful time in my life."

I snort and roll my eyes, wishing he'd just keel over already so I can get my notebook and get on with my life. "Yes, because putting paint and scribbles on a canvas is so stressful."

He ignores me and continues, "So I'm going to apologize for my behavior and ask that we start over."

I raise an eyebrow, expecting some game show host to jump out with a camera and scream, "You've just been pranked!" but it never happens and I finally sigh.

"I don't suppose that means you're going to give me my notebook back?"

"Sorry, Lovely, it would be rather stupid to think you'd help me without having some leverage on you. And I'm pretty desperate." He gives me an apologetic look.

"Maybe I would." I shrug in a last attempt.

He gives me a dry look and studies me for a few seconds. "I highly doubt it."

I groan, hanging my head back and pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. "So...what - I just sit in a room with you while you paint? Like in a studio or something?"

"Nah, probably just in my room or here at the park. Maybe even your place if it makes you more comfortable." He gives me a small smile and I clear my throat.

"You could be a rapist for all I know." I spit out. The question had been floating at the back of my mind for the past few minutes and there was no way of stopping it from coming out.

He chuckles and stands up. "There's always that possibility, right?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"It wasn't a question, Lovely. It was an accusation...which I am highly offended by." He places a hand to his chest like I wounded his heart or something.

Good, he deserves it.

"When do we start?" I sigh, wanting to get this over with so I can go home and read.

He rubs his hands together. "Anytime you're available."

"How about never."

"Cheeky. I like it." He jokes and I roll my eyes once again. "No but seriously, we can start the day after tomorrow if you're free."

I just give him a tight lipped fake smile and a nod before turning on my heel and beginning to walk away.

"I'll text you the details, Lovely." He calls after me.

Crap, I forgot that he has my number.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

                *          *          *          *          *

My first thought when I get home is to Skype Lila and vent but, sadly, when I check my phone there is a message waiting for me.

Lila:

Hey just wanted to let you know I'm headed out for a late night party with a few forieners. So I won't be able to talk for a couple hours. Love you! xoxo

I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and glance at the microwave to see the time. Five twenty nine PM. That makes it eleven thirty at night there.

I didn't realize I had been gone that long. But, then again, I took my time coming home and I stopped at Starbucks to grab yet another cup of coffee. I'm not sure that was the best idea but at the moment I could care less.

I decide to watch a little bit of television but after a couple episodes of Falling Skies, I get bored.

With a sigh I make the courageous decision to test my luck in getting Ray to hang out with me. Mom has already made it home but she's in her studio working on a demonstration piece for her college art class that she teaches. And when she's in the middle of a project she's practically a million miles away.

When I make it to his door I roll my eyes for the thousandth time at the KEEP OUT sign on the door. My hand comes up to knock but I pause, staring at the door knob.

I weigh my options. If I try to open this door myself it could very well be locked. Actually it's a very high possibility. Plus, Ray will for sure hear me trying to come in and be way to ticked with me to even consider hanging out with me. And right now I'm way too bored to give up the small chance I have.

Therefore, I decide to just knock.

I get no answer so I knock a second time, expecting Ray to snap at me for bothering him but I step away in surprise when the door swings open to reveal my brother in a purple college hoodie and a pair of grey and black cotton shorts.

"What." His tone isn't sharp but more bored sounding. Like he would rather be anywhere but here having a conversation with me. This type of attitude used to bother me but now I've grown a little more immune to it.

"I – um – was just wondering if maybe you wanted to-"

"No." He interrupts a flat look on his face.

I sigh, looking up at him and silently cursing him for being so tall. His five foot ten inches isn't exactly towering but me being five foot five it requires me to have to hang my head back a little. And he seems to grow another inch every month.

"Ray, I know you're bored too. You've been locked up in your room for a week. Come on, it's summer vacation why don't we go do something even slightly fun. Together?" I look him in the eye hopefully, silently urging him to say yes.

Turns out he doesn't even think I deserve an answer and his door closes quickly, leaving me standing in the hallway disappointed but not surprised.

I turn away from the door, not being able to look at that stupid sign for one second longer, and shuffle to my bedroom. I leave the door open in hopes that Ray will change his mind.

He doesn't. And I'm left to spend my night alone with my thoughts swarming in my mind and no way to get them out without my journal.  It's like I'm suffering from withdrawls, my hands shaking slightly and I can't seem to sleep when the time comes.

I lay awake only staring at my ceiling and I wonder if Lila would be angry if I called her. It's about five AM there and I don't feel like dealing with the wrath of a sleep deprived Lila so I decide against it.

Then my mind gets started on the whole "Arthur" situation. What kind of a name is Arthur anyway? Sounds like a cartoon character – oh wait, it is.

And what's up with his attitude? New flash, Arthur, you don't rule the world.

Not to mention his face expressions. Did someone glue that smirk on his face as a kid because it's always there.

And just when I don't think he could get any more annoying, he steals one of my most prized possessions. How did he even get it out of my bag? Is he secretly a professional at pick pocketing? If he was why would he steal my journal, I had like fifty bucks in my bag.

Plus he doesn't seem like the type. He's too...privileged. People who pick people's pockets usual have like harsh backgrounds or something. And he seems pretty preppy considering he goes to NCIA.

I wish I'd never gone to the park that day. If I hadn't, this never would have happened. I never would have met Arthur and I my journal would be here safe and sound.

I sigh and sit up in my bed. There's no use in whining about it and wishing things could be different. But I don't have to be happy about it.

My hands itch for me to grab a pen and vent out onto paper and I consider using one of the many journals my mom had bought me over the years in hopes that I would let go of my old one. But I can't. I've tried...but I just can't.

I need to get that journal back. And soon. I can't stand another who knows how long without it.

So I come up with a plan.

I snatch my phone off the bed, not caring about the time and typing out a message to the monster holding my journal captive.

Me:

Okay so I agreed to your stupid proposal but I can't meet tomorrow. Today at 2:00 pm sharp. Your place, send me the address.

I smirk to myself. It's simple really. I make Arthur think I'm perfectly fine with being in his nasty living quarters but as soon as he's not looking I find my journal and make a run for it.

I wasn't expecting a reply seeing as its past midnight but nonetheless my phone pings, notifying me of a text.

Arthur the Ever So Clever Artist:

Glad to see you're cooperating. We meet tomorrow at 2:00 pm...but we meet at the park. After all, you could be a rapist for all I know ;)

I glare down at my phone and make a point of not replying. With a huff I click on his contact to change his name.

LUCIFER