The Boyfriend Factory

Chapter Four

I stared at the red faced girl in the front room mirror with the little crack in the right hand corner.

Yeesh, who knew I could blush this much? Sure, my skin went red on normal occasions from a rush of blood or when I was over heated but this had to be a new record.

I guess guys like Ethan Stone had that kind of effect on girls like me.

I groaned inwardly. Jerk-wad, was all I could think as I began to stride to the living room. How did I let a guy like him disarm my whole wall-of-safety policy? Usually when with strangers I'd be much more composed and quick to hide my emotions, but in a mere ten or maybe even five minutes he'd managed to pull me apart. I mentally scolded myself. Next time I'd have to step up my game.

"Mum? I'm home," I called into the house, nearing the door that lead to the sitting room. As my feet shuffled in the direction I could feel the queasiness at the pit of my stomach. I slowly craned my neck round the frame of the door, like in one of those horror movies. Like I was waiting for a chainsaw massacre guy to jump out from somewhere and slice my neck off.

I know you're all screaming - no! Don't go into the room! The killer's in there!

But at least then I wouldn't have to face Ethan again.

But as I looked into the musty dull living room there was not a single presence. It looked just like how it had been left in the morning. Slightly messy, rusty old chairs and couches, an outdated TV with an unsteady wooden table a meter or so in front of it and a lamp that had been knocked off the cupboard a few inches next to the chair. I could still see a couple glass shards, but I decided to ignore them.

They weren't home.

Mum and Jared were probably out somewhere again. Jared. Still even thinking of his name sent shivers down my spine. I pursed my lips. Though I could never quite bring myself to say a word about him, his presence or even leftover aura made me feel uneasy.

I walked quietly over to the kitchen. It was in a similar state. I glanced over at the bin, looking to see a few shards of broken plates like I'd expected. The dishes were unwashed, half of them in the sink, and the tap was still running with a soft drip. I took a sigh of what sounded like relief and screwed the tap handle to off.

No one home.

Muscles in my body relaxed slightly. I took a calm breath and headed upstairs, across the hall and into my box sized room. I took off my school uniform and slipped into a night shirt and a mismatched and a little too-tight pyjama trousers. I jumped onto my bed, tons of old romance novels tumbling off the edge, and pulled out dell laptop that everyone in school would have cursed on if they'd ever seen me bring it in.

The first thing I did was take out my bag and notebook and begin typing in all my new found information. I scrolled to a new section and typed in the words E . . . T . . . H . . .

Ethan Stone – Client #43

Seeing his name on my screen felt odd. I'd never quite expected him to be on my matchmaking profile . . . it was sort of surreal.

I started to type in all the information I'd gathered. The situation, the relationship, and I had to mention 'Brianna Kent' whether I liked it or not. Even her name looked misplaced in my documents. After a while I stopped writing and stared at the screen, under Ethan's category.

My fingers began to trace over the keyboard.

And in big capital red block letters, I typed:

Enormous jerk-wad.