Hey, Billionaire

four

I was grounded. I was no longer allowed to go outside without any of my father's bodyguard.

After the breakfast, my mom and I talked. Of course, with Dad on the phone. I sat there, in my father's office for an hour and half, listening to them. I was told to never go outside without company and accept a drink. I spent that hour an a half staring at the grey curtains in the room.

I was now at my room. Lying on the bed that I had asked one of the maids to change the covers. For extra measures, Mom even told them to sanitize every corner of the room. She told me she wouldn't want me to get sick from a bacteria I possibly got from going in a club.

"Mom, that won't be necessary," I whined as she dropped a liter of antiseptic on the floor, with the maids hot on her tail. In their hands were cleaning supplies.

Mom patted the top of my head. She turned around to face the maids, ignoring what I had just said. "Okay, I want every corners clean. Don't wanna get my angel sick."

Everyone nodded their heads. And I was horrified. Mom had a serious expression plastered on her face and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold her back.

Glancing at Harry, I saw him wiping the cabinets. He wore a pastel green sweatshirt— the sleeves were folded up from his wrist. He must have felt my eyes on him as he stopped what he was doing and greeted me silently with a smile. I shot him a look that was asking for help.

But like the good friend that he was, he shrugged and continued wiping the things clean.

Why would he do that? It was obvious he knew what I was trying to say! I stomped my feet, stopping when Mom walked towards me. "Did you take a bath this morning?" She asked with a questioning glare.

I felt my cheeks heat up with her accusation. "I-i did. Of course, I did!" I shouted but with my naturally hushed and soft voice, it only sounded like I was trying to say something as I would normally do.

Mom chuckled seeing my reddening face. Wrinkles became visible as she did. Nonetheless, she was still beautiful. "Alright, darling."

I watched her from the doorstep as she applied alcohol in her hands before tying her hair dyed in auburn color. Mom took a disposable gloves and wore it.

My eyebrows were so close to forming a single line. What is she doing?

Making her way to the bathroom, she carefully went inside as if she was afraid of catching a disease. I stared confused at the bathroom door as it closed. It took Mom a couple minutes to find whatever she was looking for. The door swung open, revealing my completely disgusted Mom standing straight as she clutched my clothes for earlier. My eyes grew wide that I thought it was going to pop out of its socket. "Mom!"

My clothes! It was still crumpled in a ball, the state I had put it in when I took it off. Mom's gonna see my underwear! And there's other people in the room!

I reacted like what any other normal people put in this kind of situation would do. I panicked. I darted towards her and tried to take my clothes from her. But before I could do, she lifted it and glared. Mom rose her eyebrows at me, her lips in thin line. "What are you doing?!"

"I-i can handle that. Uhm, uh. I'll...wash it?," I suggested without thinking. I don't even know how a washing machine works!

"No." I extended both my arms sideways just as she attempted to walk past me. Mom exhaled loudly. "Green, don't be stubborn."

"But I can wash that myself, the maids don't have to," I said, jutting my bottom lip out slightly. I sent her the best puppy dog eyes I could muster. I hoped I didn't look stupid.

"Who said someone's gonna wash this? Darling this is going straight to the trash." And then she threw the dirty clothes in the black garbage bag in the corner of the room while I stood right at the doorstep, watching her with my mouth agape.

Staring at the phone sitting on the table beside my bed, I pondered whether to call Evan. I was still upset and a little disappointed. Why was he not calling me first? Didn't he realize what was wrong with what he did?

I unconsciously bit my lip. Should I call him? What if he answers and I find out that he's not sorry? The last thing I wanted was to lose a friend.

We've been friends since we were 11. It was funny how we even got along when we were completely opposite of each other. He was outgoing but I was not. He says what in his mind and I don't.  Sometimes, I wonder how he could do that.

I dialed Evan's number, at last. For every ring, I was starting to question my decision. What if he doesn't want to talk?

After 3 rings, he finally answered. Or I thought he did.

"Hello?" I whispered through the phone. I checked my phone screen and saw that the call was on going. Yet I didn't hear him talking. I could only hear heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

"Evan, are you there?" I was getting more and more upset for every second that he didn't speak.

"He's passed out," I heard a voice. It was Kian. Eh? "Kian?"

"Yeah."

Oh. "U-uhm, is he alright?"

"He is. He's sleeping right now."

"..."

"Look, I know you want to talk to him but he's out cold. I also know very well that this sly friend of yours owes you an apology and I'll make sure he gives it to you when he wakes up." Wow those are a lot of words, given that it's Kian that I'm talking to.

"Uh—"

"And don't worry. I was the one who took you home. Fortunately, I got there while you were still in one piece. So, yeah, rest assured."

"You did? Thank you," I said, somewhat feeling more at ease.

"Yeah."

"So...bye?"

"Bye."

"..." Do I end the call first?