Me & The 2 Bad Boys

Chapter 3

Essel Pov

After exchanging greetings with everyone present, he turns his attention to me. Almost immediately, his smile falters slightly, and a hint of confusion appears on his inquisitive face. It seems like he’s trying to piece something together. After a brief moment of thought, it dawns on me, as if a light bulb has flickered to life in my mind.

He’s likely struggling to match my name with my face, despite the fact that we’re in the same English class.

I’m aware that I’m not particularly well-known, but I didn’t realize I was quite this invisible.

As he studies me for a few seconds longer than necessary, I can feel my cheeks heating up under his gaze. It’s an unfortunate reflex of mine; it doesn’t take much for me to blush like a ripe tomato, and it frustrates me that I can’t control it. Fortunately, he shifts his focus to my parents.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a respectful nod towards them. “But I’m feeling a bit tired, so I’m going to head to bed. Have a lovely night,” he adds, and I feel a wave of relief. At least with him out of the room, I won’t feel so on edge.

Tristen rises from the cream-colored couch, which springs back to its original form. As he strides toward the living room door, he brushes a few loose strands of hair away from his forehead, allowing his thick mane, resembling dark melted gold, to settle back into place. Part of me feels relieved that he’s leaving, while another part is undeniably disappointed. I struggle to understand how someone can be as stunning as he is.

“Tristen, could you please take Essel to the guest room on your way?” Grace calls out, stopping him in his tracks.

Oh no.

I quickly glance at Grace, silently hoping she can sense my reluctance about going to the guest room with him. Instead, she looks at Tristen, waiting for his reply.

“Sure,” he responds, much to my dismay, as he turns his gaze to meet mine.

Alright, Essel, just think of him without clothes.

Wait, who thought that imagining someone naked would help ease your nerves? I quickly dismiss that idea – the last thing I want is to picture Tristen in that way. With a nervous chuckle, I push myself off the sofa.

As I say 'goodnight' to my parents and the Parkers, I make my way toward Tristen. But, of course, something clumsy has to happen. True to form, I trip over the edge of the rug and lurch forward, resembling a not-so-graceful Superman. With one arm reaching out in front and the other flailing behind, I desperately try to regain my balance. Thankfully, I manage to halt just before colliding with Tristen, leaving only a few centimeters between us.

I can hardly catch my breath.

What on earth, Essel?

I shoot Tristen an apologetic look, but he simply responds with that infuriatingly charming smirk of his.

"Are you okay, love?" Grace asks, nearly rising from her seat in an attempt to help me.

Is it possible for this to be any more humiliating?

"Yeah, sorry, I lost my footing..." I reply, turning to Tristen and shooting him a frosty glare in response to his smirk.

He seems unfazed, though, as he spins on his heel and strides out of the room, amusement written all over his face. How rude. I grimace in embarrassment as I watch him leave.

"Are you heading out, dear?" Mum asks.

"Yes, have a great night, everyone," I respond, trying to sound as confident as I can to mask the fact that I’m the one who always ends up in these awkward situations.

As I exit the room, I mentally berate myself for being such a loser and notice that Tristen is already halfway up the spiral staircase, not even bothering to wait for me. I quicken my pace towards the stairs, taking a big step to avoid missing one as I climb to catch up with him. My hand glides along the cool surface of the shiny banister. Looking up at Tristen, I recall the times I’ve seen him wandering around school, usually accompanied by Ray and Jake, with a visibly anxious Brittney trailing behind him.

It's common knowledge that he hails from a wealthy background. Just moments ago, I overheard a conversation between my father and Mercer that made it clear where their affluence originates. Mercer is the founder and CEO of Parker Designs, the largest architectural firm in England, catering to elite celebrities and high-profile individuals both domestically and internationally. It's no surprise that their home resembles something fit for royalty.

As I take a moment to appreciate his broad shoulders, he suddenly turns his head towards me.

"You're so clumsy; try not to trip again," he chuckles, stepping onto the second-floor landing.

If it weren't for his annoying comment, I would be taking in the beauty of the second floor. Instead, I shoot daggers at the back of his head, wishing I could vanish into thin air.

"Ha-ha, very funny," I retort sarcastically. "I apologize if I got too close to ruining one of your precious nails."

He quickly pivots to face me, a challenging look in his eyes. I notice the slight tightening of his jaw, which accentuates his facial features, and his expression is one of pure amusement.

Oh, don’t fret! I have a manicure appointment tomorrow, so it wouldn’t have been an issue if you had accidentally broken them. He says this with such seriousness that, if it weren't for his lopsided grin revealing his playful intent, I might actually believe him.

"I wouldn't be shocked if you do get manicures; I've always sensed there’s a softer side to you," I reply, crossing my arms with a sense of pride in my retort.

Essel, what are you doing? Why are you digging yourself deeper?

"Are you implying I'm a girl?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely."

Oh dear, Essel, you’ve just earned the title of the most outrageous person around.

"Have you seen these muscles?" he says, flexing his biceps one after the other.

And now is the perfect time for me to roll my eyes. "Wow, your ego is enormous, and just so you know, girls can have muscles too."

He steps a bit closer, his towering six-foot frame looming over my petite five-foot-two stature. I can’t help but feel like an elf standing next to him. He raises his hand to stroke the light stubble on his jaw.

"My ego is that big?"

"Absolutely," I reply, shifting back a little, trying to maintain my composure despite his closeness.

"You’re not as quiet as I expected," he says with a smirk.

"And you’re just as vain, if not more so, than I imagined." A smile begins to form on my lips.

I take another step back, realizing he’s inching even closer. However, my retreat is halted by the bannister behind me.

"You’re a bit too self-assured for your own good."

"Says the one full of arrogance."

You might want to say your goodbyes, Essel, because you're in deep trouble.

Tristen steps closer, pinning me against the stair banister. Our faces are so near that his warm breath brushes against my nose, igniting a whirlwind of emotions inside me. My palms are clammy, my robe feels uncomfortably snug, and my heart races. He diverts his gaze from mine, letting it slowly travel down my body before returning to meet my eyes once more.

How incredibly rude and inappropriate.

In that moment, I become acutely aware of my revealing crop top peeking out from under my robe. I attempt to stand taller, trying to show him that his gaze hasn’t fazed me.

Enough is enough! He really needs to understand the concept of 'personal space.'

Taking a deep breath, I give him a sly smirk and push against his chest, trying to create some distance. Instead, I find myself being pushed back, my spine bending awkwardly as it collides with the banister. If I bend any further, I fear I might just topple over the edge and meet a disastrous fate. A sharp pain shoots through my back, causing my mouth to drop open as I fight to suppress a wince.

Incredible! He remains completely still.

Within moments, the second floor is filled with Tristen's uncontrollable laughter. He stumbles backward, creating space to bend over and clutch his stomach, laughing even more heartily.

You really got him to laugh at you, Essel. You deserve a huge round of applause.

"I have to say, clumsy..." he gasps between fits of laughter. "I really needed that."

Just when I think he’s done, he bursts into laughter again. This time, he stands tall and throws his head back, and I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone downstairs could hear him.

"Are we on a nickname basis now?" I retort, trying my best to ignore his laughter and suppress my own.

"Oh, you mean 'clumsy'?" He straightens up a bit but continues to chuckle. "I think it fits you perfectly, don’t you agree?"

"Don’t you think 'dickhead' is a better fit for you?" I shoot back.

"Ooh, the girl has a mouth on her," he chuckles, locking his gaze onto mine with a teasing smirk that seems permanently etched on his face.

"Where's the guestroom?" I ask, my irritation bubbling to the surface.

I can't get away from this jerk soon enough.

"Down that way, first door on the right," he gestures down the captivating hallway, still wearing that infuriating grin.

As soon as I spot the door he indicated, I rush towards it, urging my legs to move faster.

"You might want to take it easy; you could trip and fall," he shouts after me, just moments before I manage to close the guestroom door and drown out his laughter.

Ugh, what a terrible day. Everything has just been so unpleasant.

My home is a disaster, and I fear I've lost nearly everything I own. For a brief moment, I felt a glimmer of happiness knowing we would be staying at Mercer's house tonight. But then reality hit me—I can be such a fool, and their son seems eager to make things even more awkward for me. I let out a frustrated sigh, leaning against the solid door as I close my eyes.

It’s astonishing how quickly life can turn upside down in just a few hours.

Soon, everyone will know that I’m living with Tristen Parker.

Everyone will be buzzing about what happened to my house.

Fantastic, just fantastic—this is definitely not how I envisioned my first year going.

Upon hearing a door close nearby, which I suspect belongs to Tristen, I slowly open my eyes. As I take in the beauty of my surroundings, I can't help but feel a rush of excitement. My mouth slightly agape, I gaze in awe at the stunning room before me.

Wow. This is absolutely incredible.

The guestroom is nearly as spacious as the living room, adorned with cream curtains and matching bed linens. A magnificent chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its sparkling crystals dangling like sharp daggers, seemingly poised to strike the loveseat positioned beneath it. I can’t help but grin foolishly at the California king bed in front of me, a stark contrast to my small single bed back home. To my right, the bathroom is brightly lit, echoing the same elegant color palette of gold, cream, and black. Everything I see appears luxurious, and I feel too awkward to even reach out and touch anything.

Just as I’m about to leap onto the expansive bed, a series of three knocks on the door halts me in my tracks. With a flutter of anxiety, I pause and silently hope for the best.