be quite honest, it’s pretty damn far.
The things they did to me are unfathomable. For years, they tortured and ridiculed me, picking at the scabs, never allowing them to heal properly. Even when I escaped them five years ago, the memory of their torment lingered with me, haunting me. I couldn’t escape it.
Shaking my head rapidly to clear the fog residing there, I jump out of bed and grab a dark gray dress with a sweetheart neckline out of my closet. The sleeves run just to my wrists, and the skirt itself cinches around my waist in a tight belt. The outfit as a whole is gorgeous, especially when paired with my white-blonde hair, honey-colored eyes, and a light application of blush and mascara.
I don’t bother looking at the clock on the wall. Based on the trickle of light ribboning my room in sheets of golden white, I would guess it’s around seven. I’m running slightly behind schedule, but it’s no matter. I can easily skip breakfast.
Climbing down the ladder, I dance inside the bathroom and finish getting ready for my day. When I emerge less than ten minutes later, it’s to the smell of bacon wafting in the air. My mouth automatically waters as I glide forward, as if in a daze.
Polo is standing in the middle of the kitchen, just as he was the day before. He sings softly to himself as he scoops freshly scrambled eggs and two slices of bacon onto a plate. My to-go cup of coffee is ready as well, filled to the brim with cream, just the way I like it.
“Um…wow. T-Thanks,” I stammer as I shove a piece of bacon into my mouth.
On second thought…
Maybe I won’t skip breakfast this morning.
“You’re welcome,” Polo says with a friendly smile.
“Is Nana still sleeping?” I query, just to make conversation. Polo has his back towards me as he slaves over the stovetop, his bronze skin lathered in a light layer of sweat from the heat.
“I swear that woman could sleep through a nuclear explosion,” he says fondly, before tacking on, “Another piece of bacon?”
“No thanks.” I pick up the fork he placed beside the plate and stab the fluffy eggs. “This is delicious, by the way.” I practically moan at the myriad of flavors—a combination of various cheeses, pepper, salt, and something I can’t quite name. A secret ingredient, perhaps? “How did you learn to cook so well?”
“I have years of practice,” he admits with a teasing wink.
“Oh, come on.” I take a tentative sip of the coffee, my eyes rolling into the back of my head when I find the perfect proportion of creamer to coffee. “This is damn good coffee, too. But I’m serious. You can’t be older than twenty-five.” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I amend, “Twenty-six?”
Another dry look.
“Are you in your thirties?” I gape openly. None of the men look a day over twenty-five.
“A gentleman never reveals his age,” he jests as I shovel the last mouthful of eggs.
“That’s a lady.” I point my fork at him, which he stealthily steals from my fingers. He takes my plate too and puts both in the dishwasher. “Oh, come on. Tell me! Thirty-one?”
He presses his lips into a thin line, as if he’s trying to contain a smirk.
“Nope. Not telling. I’m going to let you sweat on it for a little while.” He glances over my shoulder, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Peony, are you expecting someone to drive you to school today?”
“No, why?” I follow his gaze out of the kitchen window towards where a strange Jeep lingers in the driveway. I squint, peering through the windshield, until I spot a familiar shock of brown hair with purple highlights. “Oh, come the fuck on.”
“You know him?” Polo asks suspiciously, eyes narrowed and hands twitching. A small part of me wants to deny and have Polo race outside and spell Elias’s ass to kingdom come. But then I remember my dream, and the urge abates as I scramble to my feet, picking my backpack off the ground.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter, too softly for him to hear. Louder, I add, “He’s a classmate.” I grab my to-go cup and hurry towards the door. “Tell Nana that I have cheer practice and that she shouldn’t worry if I get home late!”
“All right. Be safe!”
“You too.” Giving him a two-fingered salute, I grab my coat off the hook and hurry outside.
My irritation exacerbates when Elias rolls down the window of his Jeep—a Jeep and