Forget about me

Chapter five

Alexandra

What the actual fuck?

The rumbling of Jem's truck grows quieter as we reach the sickenly rich part of the city. As we  slow down I watch the giant houses with green gardens roll past. Wondering what the hell we're doing here, because they can't actually live in one of these houses, I scowl at the world. We come to a stop outside of a gate. Behind it sits a beautiful white house. It takes me a moment to realise which house this is and why it seems so familiar. Stpping, we wait as a wolf sitting in a little box house exchanges a few words with Ryder before pressing a couple of buttons to let us in. The gate slides open and we roll inside.

My heart beats out of rhythm as my gaze falls on the entire house. Big black double doors sit above a small half-moon staircase that leads to the front door. Jem veers the car to the right and a black garage door opens. A narrow road tilts down and leads us underground to a massive garage. Multiple cars and bikes, all expensive as hell, is lined up facing the wall in a neat extremely expensive row.

The engine turns off and Jem hops out pulling my door open with a flourish.

"My lady," he drawls and bows at the waist.

Tentatively I scoot to the edge of the jeeps seat peering out. Ryders jacket is still around my middle I climb out of the jeep and walk along the line of vehicles looking at them all with wide disbelieving eyes. 

They're rich. The four boys who used to steal croissants from the small bakery down by the beach for me are fucking rich. My mind can't really wrap itself around them here. In this house. That looks exactly like the one I always imagined. It's the same house. The one I wanted to buy and renovate. They bought it. Renovated it. Live in it.

Without me.

They took my dream and made it their own.

A fist wraps itself around the organ slamming against my chest protecting it from any further harm.

Four pairs of eyes watch me closely as I move closer to a door at the end of the line. The air is thick with tension and when Jem slips past me to hold the door open, he looks almost nervous. Silently I move through the basement. Noting the gym on the right and a closed door to the left of a staircase that leads up into the house.

Jem walks ahead of me. He swiftly enters a code on the keypad which blips and opens the door. Jems tall lithe frame blocked my view of the pad keeping me from seeing what numbers he pushed. Mentally cataloguing to find the number combination later, I step into a living room.

To my right, there's floor to ceiling windows looking over a dark wooden deck with a pool, bar and grill. The ocean sits beyond it and I can see the cliff peak to the left from here even in the dark.

Inside to my left is the wide expanse of the living room. White couches sit in front of a flat screen TV with a massive speaker system. On the TVs right side is another door that, if this place is built like I imagined it to be, leads to the office/library.

Ahead of me is the dark brown and white kitchen. Isle, barstools and all. Mouth open and body numb I take in everything from the wooden floor to the large photograph hanging on the wall next to the staircase that leads to the second floor. It's a blown-up polaroid picture.

Of me.

Hunter took it years ago with a stolen instant camera. The body twirling in the blue ocean is blurry. Blonde strands block out the young girls face but a hint of a wide smile can be seen. Worn jean shorts and a white flowy long-sleeved top covers her skin. There's a bandage around her left thigh starting at her knee and disappearing behind the shorts.