Unexpected Love

Chapter 12 - Bailey

The Beaufort house was much larger than I expected. I mean I knew it would be big, considering there were four very large men living here. I didn't expect it to be this big.

That's what she said-

It looked like a two-story house from the outside, with a large attic. The house was bricked white, with a white fence going around it. White and red flowers decorated the front of the white fence. The windows were large and long, the shutters black which matched the front door.

I was standing behind the white gate and staring at the freshly cut lawn. I just stared up at the large house with my mouth hung open in pure amazement. I'd never stepped foot in a house this large before. It made me envy them in a way. I lived with my father for seventeen years and lived in a semi-furnished two-bedroom apartment because every paycheck would go down the drain.

Until I was eighteen when I finally was able to get my own place. Shitter than the apartment I shared with my father. It was a one-bedroom smaller than the one I was in but it was mine. The walls had cracks that lead from the ceiling to the floor. The kitchen was struggling to stand upright. Half the time the oven didn't even work.

After the first rain, the bathroom ceiling started leaking and the landlord of course, could care less. The apartment was small but convenient. It was broken down, crumbling, but all I wanted was a place to sleep and a comfy mattress to come home to. All I needed for the time being was shelter until Riley came around.

When I bumped into Riley, literary crashed into her which made her coffee spill all over my already late body. She was conveniently looking for me too and wanted to interview a culinary student for her school paper. From that moment on we became best friends.

As our friendship progressed we eventually rented a better apartment together, bigger than the one I was already living in. The apartment we rented was bigger and far brighter. I had the kitchen space to properly bake and Riley had a brand new desk, computer, and a comfy chair to write in.

She was a writer. She started writing when she lived with her grandma. Her first job was at Raining books with Mrs.Crawford.

She had written a couple of pieces for major companies while we were in the city. Before me, she even made the paper on her article about how people usually watch more shows than they do movies even though tv shows are the equivalent and even more to a movie.

After a few more entries to articles she had written about different controversial things, she never heard back from them which made her feel awful. I watched her sit in her bed and migrate to the couch for months. Everything I would bake she would eat in record time. I hated watching those feelings erupt and bury her in complete misery.

It was horrible, and cornering watching her eat her weight in cake and drink her body weight in wine. Then watch her vomit repeatedly on the bathroom floor, while I held her hair back running back and forth between her and the kitchen. I always had something in the oven the moment she decided to barf her guts out.

Then one magical morning she read the paper. For the first time in months, she had the black and white paper in her hands sitting on the couch, dark spots decorating under her eyes. She was reading the margin on page three, I remember because that was the day she started a blog.

The article that Oliva James wrote was about the difference between women and men and how Olivia believes women were being too confident nowadays, but you didn't want a feminist like Riley to read it, because when I tell you she was red-faced, steam coming out of her ears angry, she was that and so much worse.

Riley started her blog a reply to Oliva's article and it went viral. From that moment on she continued to write her opinions on this website on the internet and she was happy. Anything and everything she wrote which people started to read and pay to read. She found herself and so had I, without her I think I would still be in that god-awful apartment, and she would be starving. God knows she has no baking or cooking skill.