Baking With Boys |✔

25. Cheese Fondue

"Tyler please stop!" Francis called out from behind me but it only made me speed up. My hands curled up into a fist when I thought back on Bella's words. Furious would be an understatement. I was prepared to bring the house, or in this case, the hotel down.

Ignoring Francis's advancing steps, I stopped before the elevator shafts and pressed the buttons in succession.

"Tyler is a good friend of mine and she is being bullied by her schoolmates..."

I scoffed. Bullied? What the hell was she trying to say? Everything had already died down since my sophomore year and this would simply aggravate the issue more. I didn't need the focus of entire school on me or worse, get sympathy pats from my teachers. They did nothing in the first place why bother now.

With one floor left for the elevator to reach mine, I sighed when Francis caught up to me. Even in my hurry I wasn't stupid enough to take the stairs and tire myself out. You had to be consistent if you were not working out.

"Mon Dieu!" Francis gripped my arm, and tried to turn me towards him.

"Mon Dien? Mon Dieu, will you stop it?" I hissed, irritated at his consistent use of French. I pulled my arm back, and to my relief no one witnessed my snappy mood. Francis huffed out and swept his hair away from his face in disbelief. When he realized that it won't work, he tried on with a pleading look.

"Tyler it won't do you any good. Please believe me," Francis said, and I mirrored his initial expression of disbelief.

"Francis it's of no use. I can't let this slide. They are practically spreading malicious rumors on the national television! What if they aired that Roger and you were a couple, huh? Would you stay still? You won't."

"That is something different Tyler. You don't--" Francis stopped as the elevator opened, and I quickly took a step away from him. To my displeasure, Stephanie, the infamous mastermind behind the casting stood behind the sliding doors.

I watched as she absent-mindedly stared at both of us from her crooked glasses. She arched her eyebrows at my state. I knew those damn tears would have left horrible trails with bloodshot eyes, and not to mention my pyjamas. You had think one would wear some fancy stuff in a foreign country. Not me.

"Tyler Anderson," she stated in recognition, "Francis."

Francis looked a little flustered, not recognizing her. But I saw this as my chance to get information out of her and boldly stepped inside the elevator. Francis gave me a disappointed look but followed me in without a word. He grabbed my arm to drag me to a corner as the elevator closed and began moving.

"Listen Tyler, I have only made problems for you all this time and I admit it. But believe me, you'll be helpless down there. You don't know how scary they are." I thought back on how helpful the crew was back at the party, and I couldn't imagine them as the scary people Francis was talking about.

"I don't know Francis. Either way--"

"Is something wrong?" Stephanie interrupted us, and Francis stepped back, giving me the eye to not tell her anything. I did the opposite.

"Yes. Something is really wrong with the production crew." I deadpan, and her eyebrows shot through the roof at my admittance. The look on her face and the way she avoided my eyes, hinted me that she knew what was going on.

"Come with me," she whispered, and ushered me out of the elevator as it opened a few floors above ours. I was surprised at her offer and tried to ward away some of my anger, and followed her.