Not All Blondes Are Dumb [EDITING]

Chapter 22: Uncovering Secrets and Spilling Tea With a Redhead

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You can do this, Jordan. Just pick up the phone. Just pick up the harmless phone that might lead you to your ultimate death. No pressure though.

"Stupid thoughts," I mutter angrily to myself.

I hold my breath as I finally pick up the ringing phone, carefully placing it over my ear. Tentatively, I release my breath and say, "Hello?" In a squeaky voice that makes me cringe.

"Jordan? Jordan!" Aunt Reyna's panicked voice comes from the phone, my palms become slightly sweaty as I feel my throat become dry.

"H-Hey, Aunt Reyna," I greet, cursing my slight stutter.

"Oh, gracias, dios mío," she sighs in relief, "You and Teresa are with Ruby?" She asks me.

"Oh... Here, right yeah," I mumble slightly as I try not to lie at her just in case Teresa appears at her front door.

"Speak up, dear, I do not have super hearing."

"Right, right, um, I'm here at Ruby's house," I answer louder this time as I look around the hall, begging for Ruby to get her butt over here.

Fortunately, someone up there finally answers my prayers as the redhead pops up in front of me and motions for me to give her the phone. I do as quick as I can.

"Hello, Mrs. Bradley," Ruby greets her in her gentle voice.

And that's my cue to leave.

You bet your butt I zapped myself out of there.

I hate lying. I don't know why but I do. Sure, I can lie but I choose not to because I fail horribly since I either stammer or become nervous. As long as there's no harm behind the lie, I'm chill. Usually, I use smooth-talking and my petty but very beautiful charms to get out of troubling situations.

Can't succeed one way? Find ways around it!

"Killers, killers," I sang softly as I waddle into the kitchen and make a little stabbing motion, "Mmhm, killers gonna kill, kill, kill, and axes gonna chop, chop– Ugh, I'm bored, can someone cure my boredom before I become an axe murderer–"

"Geez, what kinda twisted—" someone says, interrupting my disturbing song.

Alarmed, I turn around. Forcing a calm façade, I try to erase any traces of embarrassment from myself. I watch as Ashton pops a chocolate-covered strawberry in his mouth. He watches me give him an angry look as he grabs the bowl, hogging it to himself. Before I can tell him to get his own bowl of chocolate, he grabs a spoon and grabs one of the strawberries inside.

"Listen here, Dylan look-a-like," I start, a hand on my hip. "No one told you to grab my strawberries or chocolate."

He snorts, about to place another strawberry once more into his mouth. Agitated at his rude and hogging behavior, I snatch his wrist, forcing him to let go of the spoon and strawberry. He raises an eyebrow, watching me curiously.

Letting go quickly, I realize that he's not one of my brothers and I can't hit him. Not to mention, I'm feeling the effects of liking someone like him. Crossing my arms, I try not to think about the fact that I'm only feeling like this because he's attractive. In a way that reminds me of a celebrity. Unable to help myself from squinting at him, I can't help but notice that he just really resembles Dylan O'Brien.