Me & The 2 Bad Boys

Chapter 4

Essel’s Pov

The doorknob turns slowly, and the door creaks open as I remain perfectly still. My father peeks into the room, his expression mirroring the surprise I felt when I first entered.

"Hey, Dad," I greet him with an awkward wave.

He pushes the door wider, exclaiming, "Wow, this is impressive, isn't it?" His eyes are still captivated by the room's beauty.

"Yeah," I reply, glancing up and finally noticing the intricate leafy designs etched into the ceiling. I wonder if they were crafted by hand.

"Have you gotten settled in?" he asks, shifting his gaze to me as he takes a few steps forward to sit in the chair by the dresser against the wall.

"We're only here for one night, Dad. I don’t think settling in is necessary."

"Mhm..." he responds with a grunt, followed by an awkward silence. Conversations between my father and me have always been brief and challenging.

"About that..." He begins, clearing his throat. "Your mother and I have come to the conclusion that it would be best for us to stay here while we search for a new place."

"Excuse me?" I lean in closer, wanting to ensure I heard him right.

"We believe it’s best to remain here until we find another house," he reiterates.

I'm torn between feeling thrilled at the prospect of living in this mansion a bit longer and worrying about sharing space with Tristen Parker. Don’t get me wrong; the family is incredibly generous for offering us their home, but their son can be quite unpleasant. Just a little.

"How long do you think we’ll be here?" I ask, trying to push aside the memory of Tristen's earlier comments.

"As long as it takes—could be a few weeks, or even a couple of months."

Oh no.

A couple of months. Under the same roof as that unpleasant guy. This is going to be quite the experience.

"How about the house? And our belongings?" I ask, immediately regretting it when I see the anguish on my father's face at the thought of the damage.

"I'll talk to the insurance company tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about it. Just concentrate on your studies," he responds, scratching the back of his neck—a telltale sign of his stress.

Naturally, that's his go-to advice for everything. Focus on school. Don’t let anything interfere with your studies. Aim for the highest grades. While I value their commitment to my education, it becomes a problem when it overshadows genuine parenting, especially when there are issues more significant than academics. I understand their perspective; they've faced challenges and want to protect me from making the same mistakes.

"Try not to stress too much," I reassure him, a phrase I've repeated to him for as long as I can remember.

That night, I experienced the most restful sleep imaginable. Curled up with my knees tucked to my chest, my cheek resting on the pillow, and my backside elevated, I felt as if I was floating. The mattress enveloped me in a cloud-like embrace, making it the best sleep I've ever had. The duck feather duvet was just the right weight—neither too heavy nor too light. I had never felt so grateful to wake up at seven in the morning, but that joy quickly faded.

School is a challenge.

I push the duvet aside, letting the warm sunlight streaming through the three large windows and the balcony to my left touch my bare arms and legs. I let out a sigh filled with mixed emotions. It’s bittersweet; while I adore the subjects, the classmates I share the room with aren’t really my crowd. Yet, the bliss of my cozy morning still lingers.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I balance on my feet as they meet the soft rug below. I leap up from the mattress and head toward the balcony, excitement bubbling within me—this is my first time on a balcony. After unlocking the door with the key dangling from the lock, I turn the handle and breathe in the fresh air that rushes around me as the door opens. Carefully, I step onto the cool tiled floor, hopping slightly as the chill touches my toes, and I reach for the railing. Leaning forward, I gaze at the vast expanse of vibrant greenery stretching out beneath me.

I am utterly amazed.

If I could wake up to a view like this every day, I would definitely become a morning person.

Lush, leafy trees are scattered across expansive lawns of freshly mowed grass, with a vegetable garden tucked away on the far left. Next to it stands a rectangular greenhouse, its glass panels shimmering in the morning light. At the heart of the garden lies a swimming pool, its blue waters sparkling like countless diamonds from my vantage point. I typically don’t feel envious of such things, as I recognize that having a roof over my head means I’m likely better off than many others in the world. Still, witnessing a scene like this in person, rather than just on screen, makes me curious about the lifestyle of the wealthy.

“Enjoying the view?” a familiar voice calls out from a few meters to my right.

Reluctantly, I shift my gaze from the breathtaking scenery to Tristen, and my joy diminishes slightly.

"I was just here a few minutes ago before you arrived," a small, smug smile plays on my lips.

"Ouch, that stings. Right here," he replies playfully, tapping the left side of his chest.

He’s just rolled out of bed, his hair tousled and his eyes barely open, yet he still looks incredibly attractive. Why can’t someone like him share those amazing genes with everyone instead of keeping them all to himself? Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but notice his impressive arms, which are on display beneath his white tank top. He really does have some nice muscles...

What? No! Stop it, Essel. Ugh. Gross. Get a grip, you silly girl!

"Awh, sorry, did I bruise your ego?" I tease. Honestly, I’m trying to look away from his physique, but my eyes seem to prefer this view over the garden.

No! I told you to stop! Silly girl. I swear, once Tristen leaves, I’m going to give myself a good slap.

"A little," he smirks before turning to head back into his bedroom. He pauses at the balcony doorway, glancing back at me. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes, so hurry up." Then, he vanishes from sight.

"Wait!" I shout, leaping to the edge of my balcony to get a little closer to him.

He turns back, his head reappearing, followed by the rest of his body coming into view... Oh no. My "craving sight"? That can't be good. He stands there with his arms crossed over his strong chest, wearing a bored expression.

I take a deep breath and say, "I don’t have anything to wear to school." I add, "All my clothes are at my house." My house? More like the ruins of what used to be a home.

"So? Just wear your pajamas," he suggests, gesturing to my current outfit before turning to head back inside.

"Tristen!" I exclaim. "I am not going to school in my pajamas!"

His gaze locks onto mine once more, and there's an undeniable intensity in his expression. Even though he's standing quite a distance away, I can clearly see the warm hue of his eyes and the thick lashes that frame them. With the sunlight hitting them just right, they resemble the vibrant color of flames. "Why not? You look adorable," he suggests, studying me closely.

In that moment, I suddenly feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over me.

Tristen Parker just called me adorable.

Wait a minute...

He just...

After briefly scanning my legs, midriff, and arms, his eyes finally return to mine, but now they appear a deeper shade of brown. Could it be that they change color when he feels attracted?

Oh my God, Essel, you really need to talk to someone about this. Let’s be honest, you’re probably the last person Tristen would ever be interested in.

"Tristen! Are you checking me out? You creep!" I move away from the balcony's edge, trying to hide my flushed cheeks from him.

"Tristen! Are you checking me out? You creep!" He mimics my words in a high-pitched, exaggerated 'girl voice' that sounds more like a cat in distress or a seal gasping for air.

"You're so mature," I retort.

"Coming from the girl who thinks I was eyeing her," he shoots back, and for some reason, his words sting a little.

See? I told you! Tristen would never be interested in someone like you.

That annoying voice in my head is always spot on.

"So, do you have anything I could wear?" I ask, steering the conversation back to the original topic.

"Sure, I've got plenty, but it might make you look like a guy," he chuckles.

I let out a deep sigh, "Tristen, please. I have nothing left, truly nothing. Can you just lend me a hand this one time?" My tone is serious, and I can tell he picks up on it as his smile slowly disappears.

It's the truth; I've lost everything, and all my belongings are gone.

"Just a moment," he replies, rolling his eyes at me as if I’m an annoyance.

Alright, this is a step forward. Maybe he’s not as terrible as I initially thought. But after waiting patiently against the concrete balcony wall for a good ten minutes, I begin to wonder if he’s actually going to help me or if he’s just leaving me hanging. I lean over the railing, ready to shout at him for being inconsiderate, when a knock on my door catches my attention.

I rush back into my room, hurrying to the door and turning the handle before the person outside can knock again. A small gasp escapes me when I see Tristen standing in the hallway, holding a stack of neatly folded clothes.

"Look, I know I’m attractive, but you really don’t need to be so obvious about your feelings for me," he says with a smirk.

Was my gasp really that loud?

"Well, you must have some feelings for me since you went out of your way to get me those clothes," I reply playfully, gesturing to the items he’s holding.

He raises an eyebrow, "Did I mention these clothes belong to my girlfriend?"

Girlfriend?

Tristen Parker has a girlfriend?

Of course he does, silly. Why wouldn’t he?

"Please thank your girlfriend for me," I respond.

"Will do," he says, handing me the clothes before turning and walking down the hallway.