choosing each and every word carefully. Considering what I know about him, I imagine that he is.
So when he claims he’s trying to woo me, he means it.
I push down the eager butterflies trying to crawl up my throat as I force my gaze away from his. I can never seem to think straight when he stares at me like that—with eyes that reflect desperation and need. I have only so many defenses around my heart, and they’re already beginning to crumble. With one eloquent look, he’s bombing the carefully constructed walls and slaying the fire-breathing dragon guarding the entrance.
“I think you’re doing it wrong,” I manage to choke out, quickening my pace.
He doesn’t speak the remainder of the trip.
When I pull up to the address Mariabella gave me, Elias waits until I’m through the front gates and knocking on the door before he pulls away.
I’m still confused over my interaction with Elias when Mariabella opens the door, one hip cocked to the side. Like me, she changed into a pair of loose sweats and a sweatshirt, her blonde hair still hanging around her shoulders like molten gold.
“Hey, what took you so long?” she demands as she pulls on my arm, dragging me inside.
“Sorry. Don’t have a car,” I mutter absently as I glance around the foyer with wide-eyed wonder. If I thought Nana’s house was big, this is something else entirely. I didn’t get to see the exterior—given that I was so eager to escape Elias, I barged right inside—but I can tell that Mariabella’s family isn’t lacking in the money department.
The white tiled floor is polished so meticulously, I can see my reflection. A three-tiered chandelier dangles from the ceiling, illuminating everything in a white-gold light. Numerous vases rest on small, decorative tables that sit against the walls, all lined with framed portraits. Two staircases connect above in a gorgeous mezzanine overlooking the foyer. Everything appears modern and new and so incredibly shiny, my head hurts just looking at it. I’m afraid my mere presence will tarnish it.
“You don’t have a car!” Mariabella’s shrill voice pulls me out of my musings as I turn towards her in alarm. She has one hand on her hip as she glares at me. “You bitch! I could’ve given you a ride. Why didn’t you…? Ugh! I’m mad at you right now.”
I smile sheepishly and take a step forward, before stopping myself and glancing at my shoes in dismay. Is this the type of place I have to walk around barefoot in? I’m pretty sure I didn’t step in a mud puddle or anything, but I don’t dare bring even a grain of sand into this perfectly cleaned house.
“Sorry. But I don’t mind the walk.”
Mariabella huffs before stalking towards the left staircase, her Mary Janes clacking against the floor. Well, I suppose that answers that question.
“Well,” she begins, “if you need a ride, I’m always free. Don’t ever hesitate to ask.” She pauses abruptly on the staircase, drilling me with a look over her shoulder. “Seriously, P, I mean it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t call me P. It makes me think of taking a whizz.”
“That’s gross,” Mariabella deadpans as we walk down a creepily-pristine hall. Seriously, how does a house even become this clean? She pauses at a door on her right, poking her head into a tiny office where a small woman sits at a desk. “Mom! I’m home. And I’m with a friend.”
“Karsyn?” her mother asks, turning to face us. I can see where Mariabella gets her beauty from. Her mother is a petite thing, with golden locks framing a delicate, almost elfin, face. “You know the rules—leave your bedroom door open at all times.”
“It’s not Karsyn,” Mariabella says with an eye roll and a blush, giving me a look that says, “can you believe her?”
But inside, my stomach muscles clench together like I’ve just run ten miles without stopping to drink water. It’s a painful sensation that has me rubbing at my abdomen absently.
Because the thought of Mariabella and Karsyn alone in her bedroom together…
I shake my head, attempting to violently clear the images that thought evokes.
“Oh.” The woman removes a pair of glasses and offers me a warm smile, standing from her chair to extend her hand. “I’m Lydia.”
“Peony,” I introduce.
“Peony…that’s a strange name,” she muses, and Mariabella groans.
“Mom! That’s so freaking rude!”
“It’s okay,” I say around a breath of laughter. To Lydia, I explain, “My mom went through a…phase.”