Ditching Greek | editing

43| Worth Meeting

I peeled my body away from Clyde. I didn't have to move away all that much, because Clyde practically rushed off of me in breakneck speed as if I had some kind of disease, folding his hands behind his back and keeping his lips off mine. The seductive gleam in his eyes faded away, along with the smile on his face.

"Uh, um--"

She lifted up her head, eyes shut. "No." She walked around the island and threw a few paper bags onto the counter. Placing a hand on the corner, she pushed her hip into the island and eyed the both of us, seeming to try and digest what she just saw while taking out items out of the bags. Her mop of silver hair was tied into a messy pun. I'd say she dyed her hair gray and didn't rightfully earn it from old age considering the fact that she didn't look a day over thirty-four.

"What's your name?" She asked, not looking at Clyde or I. She was focused on the things she was unpacking.

I gulped and stepped forward, bringing out my hand to shake hers. "I'm Nabella."

"Okay, Nabella. Let me ask you something. I'd prefer if you answered it honestly." She stopped unpacking and faced me, crossing her arms over her chest. My hand remained in the air, sticking out. When I knew she had no interest in shaking it, I pulled back and shoved it into my pocket. She cleared her throat. "Do you do this often?"

"Do what often?" I asked. Try and shake people's hands?

"Enter someone else home, deface their counters, and not even go to say sorry?" She farrowed her dark brows, sizing me up and down. Oh, God. She hated me--I already could tell that by her death glare. "I know Clyde was never known to bring a decent girl home, but I thought at least he would've dropped that habit of his in college and only associate himself with classy ladies. Ladies who would introduce themselves in a respectful manor, with elegant and pose. Two things I believe you do not have. Clearly." Her look hardened, sending daggers to my throat.

I was still shocked that she had said "deface" her countertops. I wasn't some piece of trash thrown on the counter. I hadn't ruined anything. God, I knew why Clyde didn't want to come home now. This woman was extremely rude.

"Auntie Patricia." Clyde said, stepping between us.

"Don't Auntie me," she huffed and picked up the paper bag and threw it into the cabinet. "You know when you said you were coming to visit us, I didn't think you were going to bring someone along with you."

"I didn't think you'd care."

Wait, what? He didn't tell them I was coming? I could've sworn that he'd informed them about me tagging along with him for the trip to Vancouver. Why wouldn't he share this detail with them?

"You know I wouldn't care if you'd brought someone worth meeting."

Ouch. Okay. I took that back. The deface comment was nothing compared to what she'd just said. How much longer did I have to suffer through her death glare?

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," I began, starting to walk around Clyde and toward her. "But I'm not as bad as your painting me out to me. If you want to, we can start over."

Her brows arched. "What's your surname, Nabella?"

"Osmani." I supplied.

Her glare softened, disappearing entirely. A stunned look graced upon her features. "S...she's the girl?" She asked Clyde. "She's the one?"

"Why else would've I brought her here?" Was all he managed to ask in response.

"Oh, my," she rushed at me, scooping up my hand and shaking it frantically with both of her hands. "Forgive me. I didn't know. It's a pleasure to meet you."