Not Your Typical Love Story

Chapter Five

Chase

When I get downstairs, I find Bianca in the kitchen. She's ruffling through the fridge with such comfort and ease that you'd think it was in her own home.

I shake my head when I spot her, assessing the scene in front of me. I vaguely remember a padlock being put on their fridge during he party, but she'd clearly discarded it, though I have no clue how she'd known the code. 

"Damnit, why is it so unorganized," she grumbled under her breath, leaning further into their obnoxiously large refrigerator.

She's on her tiptoes, leaning into the fridge so much that half of her petite figure has disappeared inside it. My view of her is blocked by the door, but I can still get a vague idea of how funny it is. For a second I almost think that she's going to completely climb in there, and the thought of her doing so makes me chuckle.

"You good there?" She whipped around at the sound of my voice, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I rose an eyebrow at the sight of her, sputtering with laughter. "Um?" I said, failing to even come up with a question.

There was a piece of strawberry currently in her mouth, one she was still chewing on, and had barely eaten half of. Her hair had been tied up, assumably so that it wouldn't be in the way during her search for whatever. But the thing that was most hard to miss was the amount of Reddi Whip spray cans she held in her arms.

She relaxed when she saw it was me, hurrying to chew her strawberry so she could speak as she made her way over to the island to place down her whip cream cans, where there were already a few more waiting.

Bianca had organized he kitchen island was into two groups, one side covered in different fruits as well as sweets, the other side with an abundance of Reddi Whip.

It had taken me a little bit of time to find where I'd put my phone, but it had clearly been enough time for her to get organized.

All the lights in the kitchen have been turned up to their top brightness level, a vast difference from the previous dimness it had been set to for the party. All the beer bottles and cups have been cleared from the counter to make room for her project, and from the looks of it, she'd really just shoved a lot of it to the floor.

"Why do they have so much?" I asked in bewilderment, staring wide eyed at the seemingly endless supply of whip cream cans.

She laughed at me, opening one of them up. "Ryan just buys a lot cuz he always has whip cream on his ice cream." She sprays some of the fluffy deliciousness in her mouth, tilting her head back to get some in. "I'm sure the rich brat will just get some more once we use it all."

I can tell the "rich brat" comment is joking, but clearly a sign of their friendship. I mentally hesitate on whether or not I want to make a comment on it, but keep the thoughts to myself.

Ryan seems like an okay enough guy, but he was always more of her brother's friend than her own. He was rambunctious and often times pig-headed. Ryan was the kind of guy who's family name let him do a lot of things, and he was sure to take advantage of it. Not to mention the fact that he played girls like the guitar and then dropped them like a hot potato.

So excuse me if I'm not entirely trusting about their friendship, because Bianca had never been the type of person to run with that crowd. Never.