Me & The 2 Bad Boys

Chapter 2

My parents and I step out of the car, my father securing it as we walk towards Mercer's impressive black BMW. Mercer had guided us to his home, a quick fifteen-minute drive, yet the neighborhoods we passed through were worlds apart. Here, grand houses stand alone, each surrounded by vast gardens that create a sense of space between them. In the driveways, only the newest and most luxurious cars are parked, making our old Volkswagen look quite shabby in comparison.

Be thankful for your life, Essel. These material possessions are insignificant.

I gaze up at the stunning mansion that is Mercer's family home. I wonder if he has any siblings.

"Welcome to my house," he says as he steps out of his car. "Let me show you inside." He beams at the three of us.

Suddenly, I remember I'm still in my pajamas—short shorts and a crop top. I had no time to change, as I was more focused on escaping the heat, but it still feels a bit awkward.

At least I have my robe, I remind myself as I pull it tighter around my trembling body. The chill of this evening is particularly harsh. We follow Mercer up the stairs, passing the grand pillars, and pause in front of the imposing main door. Mercer rummages through his pocket and retrieves a key attached to a set of keyrings. One keyring, yellow and rectangular, stands out among the rest—it’s the one our parents receive during parent-teacher night at school.

So, he must have a child. I mentally sift through the students in my year who could possibly be related to Mercer, though it’s tricky since I don’t know his last name.

At last, Mercer unlocks the door, swings it open, and gestures for us to enter first. My dad nods politely and steps onto the marble floor of the hallway, followed by my mom and then me. I have to stifle my gasp of amazement at the beauty of this place.

"Welcome home," he says with a smile.

A warm, soothing sensation washes over me as he beams at us; he truly is a wonderful person. I want to applaud you, Mercer. Just as the urge to clap arises—though I wouldn't actually do it since that would be odd—we hear the sound of slippers tapping against the cream-colored marble floor of the expansive entrance.

"Welcome!" A cheerful voice calls out from a brunette woman, who appears to be around Mercer's age. "I'm Grace." She extends her hand to shake my father's.

After embracing my mum, she turns to me and envelops me in a similarly warm, albeit slightly painful, bear hug. As she squeezes me tightly, I stifle a gasp from the discomfort of her bracelets pressing into my back. Once she releases me, she playfully pinches my cheeks with her fingers, gently wiggling my face as if I were a small child.

"Oh, how precious and beautiful you are! If only I had a daughter," she sighs, tenderly stroking my cheeks.

If they don’t have a daughter, then...

Oh no.

You know, Essel, it’s surprising how clueless you can be for someone who gets straight A's. It seems like the boys have caught your attention too.

"But I’m sure my sons will get along with you just fine; they definitely have a thing for pretty girls," she chuckles, lowering her voice for the last part, likely hoping my parents didn’t hear.

Fantastic, they have sons. I can’t believe she just said that.

"Shall we?" Mercer gestures toward the open door to the living room, and we follow him inside.

Their house is enormous; you can tell from a distance. The hallway is probably larger than our entire ground floor combined. In the center, there’s a stunning golden spiral staircase that looks like it would be fun to slide down—though I’m not actually considering doing that. The living room is even bigger than the hallway, featuring three cream sofas around a fireplace and a rectangular chestnut table in the middle. I settle onto one of the sofas with my parents, while Grace and Mercer take a seat directly across from us.

"What's your name, dear?" Grace inquires, her demeanor warm and inviting.

"Essel," I reply with a smile.

With a theatrical sigh, she repeats, "Essel... What a lovely name." Her compliment makes me beam with delight.

What can I say? It's not every day that I receive so many kind words in just a few minutes.

For a while, my father and Mercer take the lead in conversation, reminiscing and laughing about their school days together. After a few moments, we all turn our attention to the living room door as we hear the sound of a door clicking shut, followed by footsteps. I glance at Grace and Mercer, waiting for one of them to identify who’s coming.

"Ah, that must be our sons," Mercer explains.

"Honey!" Grace calls out. "We have guests!"

For some reason, my nerves start to kick in. I clasp my hands together and silently wish, please don’t let them be attractive, please don’t let them be attractive, please don’t let them be attractive.

The footsteps grow louder, reverberating through the expansive house.

Don't feel anxious; they're just guys, so keep it cool.

I turn away from the door just as I notice a shadow crossing the marble floor in the hallway, where the rug doesn't reach.

"Hi."

Oh my gosh.

I'm starting to pick up Liz's habits.

Alright, I know this might sound odd, but his voice is incredibly... captivating. It's deep, husky, and undeniably attractive. I can only imagine that such a mesmerizing voice belongs to an equally stunning face.

Why am I so on edge? He's just a guy. Just a guy.

Despite the overwhelming urge, I can't bring myself to look up and see the face behind that enchanting voice. Maybe the roof did collapse on me, and I’m actually in heaven, with this mysterious boy as my angel.

Seriously, Essel? Just relax.

As I focus on my shoes, I can sense his footsteps pacing across the living room floor until he finally settles onto the empty sofa. Yet, I still can’t bring myself to look up.

Look up, for heaven's sake! He’ll think you’re strange!

“Andrew, Katie, Essel, I’d like you to meet our son, Tristen,” Mercer announces with a formal tone as he introduces his child.

No. No. No. Absolutely not. Tristen is such a distinctive name, and I only know one boy named Tristen in my life, and it can't possibly be him. No way. I turn my head to glance at the stunning boy sitting just a few meters away, and my suspicions are confirmed.

It’s Tristen Parker.

Even though he appears a bit worn out, his tired expression does nothing to diminish his attractiveness. Yes, I just called him attractive, and I typically wouldn’t use that word for a guy, but it’s true; I’d be foolish to deny it. His soft lips curve into a slight smile, creating gentle creases around his eyes. He leans back against the cushion, one arm resting casually on the armrest. His tousled golden hair, combined with a hint of stubble on his chin and jawline, gives him a charmingly disheveled yet appealing look. I know I sound like a lovesick teenager right now, but it’s impossible to overlook how captivating he is.