The Broken Werewolves: The Human Mate (BxB)

Chapter 10 - Nigel Quintin Ulysses

CHAPTER 10
NIGEL QUINTIN ULYSSES

To say that I'm not nervous is going to be a huge lie – sharing a car ride to my home with Mark isn't really comforting at all. I don't even know the reason why I'm nervous at all. Usually if I invite someone at my house, I will be, like, cocky about it because my house is big and pleasant. My house isn't really a mansion, but it stands up than everyone's houses. But for some reason, I'm afraid about what Mark would think about upon seeing my house. Would he like it? Would he love it? Why am I even thinking of this? Clearly it's just a house, and it's not like people gush a lot about houses when they see the beautiful ones.

My hands are getting clammy. Driving while I'm basically sweating isn't really a good feeling. It's unpleasant. Mark is eyeing the interior of my car, and even that has me thinking or asking myself what he thinks about it. Do I really have to impress him just to make him consider not to hang out with the school's basically outcast Blaine Maximus? Am I really that desperate? I mean, I don't even know why I'm suddenly hating Blaine Maximus. Perhaps it's because of my friends – they don't really like Blaine Maximus, but they don't hate him.

"Nice car," he whistles as he keeps checking the interior of my car; the interior of my car is customized, and I spent, like, a lot of money just to make it even more beautiful than it already was before. I let out a breath of relief once the answer to the dreading question that has been plaguing my head for a few minutes now.

I give him a brief glance, lips curling just a bit upwards. "Thanks." I reply, happy that he finds my car nice. "Spent a lot of money just to make it better than it was. Had to save a lot of money and had to get a job for it and in the end, it was all worth it."

Working as a cashier at an ice cream store isn't really the kind of job I dream or want – it doesn't have a good salary, but when I was working at an ice cream store just five blocks away from home, it added up to my savings when I got paid. Whenever weekends came, I would take an overtime. Sometimes I reported to work even though it was my rest day – I got two rest days. Saturday and Sunday. But I usually reported to work Monday through Saturday. Though the job as a cashier doesn't really use a lot of physical and intellectual skills, whenever I went home, I was always dead tired. So tired that my parents were questioning me if they were treating me right when I was the one who wanted to work really hard just to earn and save money so I could have my car customized. It was summer last year when I got the job, and I worked for almost three months.

"So you work?" he asks and by the tone of his voice, he's surprised to find that out. There's also something in his voice that makes me glance at him.

"Not anymore; it was last year that I worked as a cashier," I answer, swiveling to the right to my block. I can already see my house from here – a two-storey, Victorian style house. "But now I'm focusing in basketball and my studies. I want to go to a uni, you know."

"Oh," this time there's a disappointment laced in his voice, as if he doesn't want me to go to a university. Or I could just be misinterpreting it. Sometimes my head doesn't work correctly.

I have my future planned out already – Julia and I are going to attend the same university. She's going to take arts while I have yet to think what course I will take, then we'll study hard, and right before we graduate, we're going to plan our next move, the next chapter of our lives; we are probably getting married someday once financial is not a problem anymore – I mean, money isn't really the problem. We've got loads of those, but I can't just depend on my parents. I want to work hard for it so I can really consider it as mine. I just need the guidance of my parents and Julia. That's it. Sounds promising, and sounds easy, but I know it's going to be so hard.