Me & The 2 Bad Boys

Chapter 5

Essel Pov

After a quick shower and using the toothbrush and toothpaste that Grace left for me last night, I carefully tiptoe back to the bed where the clothes are laid out, trying to avoid making the floor wet. Unfortunately, I leave a trail of water droplets from my long, damp hair. When it's wet, my hair clumps together, giving me the appearance of a drowned rat. However, when dry, the wavy strands showcase a blend of chestnut brown with blonde highlights. I push my wet bangs away from my face to get a better look at the clothes.

Tristen's girlfriend certainly has a taste for high-end fashion.

The white top is from Chanel, likely costing a small fortune despite its simplicity. The skinny jeans appear to be freshly purchased from Armani and pair perfectly with the off-white sneakers. As awkward as it is, since I don’t have any underwear of my own, my mother had to borrow a few pairs from Grace, who assured her they were brand new. With a sigh at the embarrassment of borrowing someone else's underwear, I let the towel drop and begin to get dressed. Once I’m done, I glance in the dressing table mirror and smile with satisfaction. Everything fits well, and the outfit looks quite nice.

Quickly glancing at the clock above the bed, I start tidying up the guest room. I neatly fold my clothes and place them in the wardrobe, hang the towel back in the bathroom, and remake the bed just as it was yesterday. As I approach the door, I take a deep breath, turn the golden handle, open the door, and make my way across the landing toward the stairs. While descending, I ponder what to share with Liz about my situation. She knows I spent the night at Mercer's house, but she has no idea who his father is.

Should I tell her?

Once I reach the downstairs hallway, I find myself a bit disoriented in the spacious entrance, glancing at each door and corridor leading to different parts of the house. There are ten doors and three corridors, but I have no clue which one leads to the kitchen or dining room.

"This way, clumsy." It dawns on me that Tristen has been quietly following me down the stairs.

He strides past me, heading through the corridor right behind the stairs, and I rush to keep up with his brisk pace. Dressed in tailored grey trousers and a blue-striped shirt that fits snugly, I can’t help but notice the way his muscles flex as he walks toward the open-plan dining room. I swear, boys' backs are my weakness.

Stop fixating on him, Essel. That's just creepy.

"Good morning," I say with a smile, reluctantly pulling my gaze from Tristen to Mercer, Grace, and my parents.

"Morning! Did you sleep well?" Grace inquires, her smile revealing her bright, white teeth.

"Yes, thank you," I reply. I almost mention how I slept soundly, but with Tristen in the room, I decide it’s best to keep things vague. I really don’t want him to tease me again, especially now that I know he has a girlfriend.

Who is she? I can’t help but wonder.

Tristen settles into a seat at the dining table, closer to his parents, while I take the last available spot next to him, nearer to mine. As we both sit down, our arms brush against each other. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but those silly butterflies are setting off tiny explosions in my stomach. I quickly glance at the array of food spread across the table to distract myself: cereals, bread, butter, marmite, jam, orange juice, apples, bananas, and more. As I untangle my fingers from my lap and reach for an apple, I freeze when I see Tristen doing the same. I quickly pull my hand back, feeling a rush of heat in my cheeks. To my surprise, Tristen picks up an apple and places it on the empty plate in front of me before grabbing one for himself.

Isn't that just the cutest thing?

In an instant, my heart races just a little faster.

He takes a big bite of his apple while mine remains untouched on my plate. I hesitate to reach for it, worried that if I do, it might vanish, leaving me to wonder if it was ever there at all. Yet, my stomach growls, as if responding to my inner thoughts. Slowly, I lift my hand and grasp the shiny red apple, bringing it to my lips. I finally take a bite, reassured that the apple is indeed real.

Thanks, you jerk; this apple is delicious.

***

"I should get going; I'll catch you later." He nods at both sets of parents before leaving the apple core on his plate, pushing back his chair and sliding it under the table.

"Tristen, you're taking Essel with you, right?" Mercer asks, raising his eyebrows in anticipation.

No, please, not at all. I really don’t want to. No!

I can already picture the uncomfortable and heavy silence that would fill his car; I don’t think I could bear it. So, I quickly shake my head at Mercer.

“Oh no, it’s really okay. I’d rather walk,” I reply, my voice wavering.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. You don’t know the way from our house,” Grace interjects.

Oh no, this is not good.

I’m gripping my hands together so tightly that I can feel the blood flow to my fingers starting to fade. Please, I really don’t want to go.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” Tristen says casually, as if it’s no big deal.

It’s not a big deal, Essel; you’re just being dramatic. Relax.

It’s just a short ride to school; it’ll be fine.

“I’ll be in the car,” he tells me as he heads out of the dining room and into the hallway.

I keep my eyes on him until he disappears around the corner, then I turn to my parents and the Parkers.

"Have a wonderful day, and thank you for breakfast," I manage to smile, though it feels forced.

As they bid me farewell, I rise from my chair, leaving my half-eaten apple on the pristine white plate, and slide my chair back under the table. Tucking a loose ringlet behind my ear, I decide to follow Tristen's lead.

Just as I’m about to step through the open front door, I catch a glimpse of myself in a large round mirror hanging on the hallway wall. Running my fingers through my damp hair, which makes me look like a drowned rat, I can’t help but frown at my reflection. Then, shaking my head, I let out a laugh at my own absurdity. I've never been one to worry about my appearance before; I’ve looked in the mirror in the past, but I’ve never truly cared.

The traffic lights in front of us shift from green to orange, then to red. Tristen slams on the brakes, and my body lurches forward, but thankfully, the seatbelt holds me in place.

"Could you please slow down? You were going seventy on a road with a forty-mile-per-hour limit," I say, shooting him a disapproving look as he keeps his gaze fixed on the car ahead. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel while the other hovers over the handbrake, poised to act when the light changes.

"Is the good girl afraid of a little speed?" he jests, pouting his lips in a playful mockery.

"Yes, I am scared! But if you keep driving like this, you won't think I'm a good girl for much longer!"

"Is that a threat?" He raises his eyebrows, finally turning to face me.

"Congratulations, Einstein," I retort with a hint of sarcasm.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks with a smug grin, clearly doubting that I would take any action. "Are you going to hit me?" He leans in closer. "Or maybe you'll do something only a bad girl would do." His smirk widens.

I can feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering wildly, as if they've taken something to amp them up.

"p*****t!" I exclaim, shifting away from his intense gaze. "Now go, the light's green!"

He laughs, "It was just a joke, relax." Turning his attention back to the road, he accelerates, and the car speeds through the streets so quickly that the scenery outside becomes a blur. I grip the edges of my seat as the speedometer climbs to seventy, then seventy-five, and finally eighty.

"Stop the car! Pull over right now!" I shout, my frustration boiling over.

The vehicle decelerates and comes to a smooth stop next to the curb as I hurriedly unbuckle my seatbelt.

"You're such a jerk!" I exclaim, trying to keep my voice steady despite my anger. I despise reckless driving and can't bear to think about the potential accidents it could cause.

"Are you really that frightened?" he questions.

"No, I'm just a fantastic actress. What do you think?" I tug at the passenger door handle, only to find it locked. "Unlock the door, Tristen." My tone is low but filled with irritation.

"I'll slow down; you don’t have to get out," he replies, but I shake my head in response.

"I’d rather walk. Just open the door, please," I insist firmly.

"Before you go, there's one thing," he shifts in his seat, turning most of his body toward me. "You can't tell anyone about staying at my place, alright?" His tone is condescending.

I hadn’t intended to mention it, but his words sting for some reason. I can’t quite understand why it affects me.

"I wasn’t going to say anything to anyone." With that, I exit his car and firmly shut the door behind me.