Gathering Water

Chapter 5+6

Unsurprisingly, I woke up fairly early the next morning. The method of waking, however, was surprising. Some girls might find the idea of being woken up by a good-looking guy appealing. However, being poked in the ribs by some monstrous feet while in a deep sleep is not my idea of a good way to start your day. I, of course, have had experience being woken up very suddenly by unwanted males. Immediately, I grabbed my still-on lantern by the handle and start beating the stranger as high as my arm would reach, and as quickly as my arm would allow. My arm just so happened to be just the right, or wrong, length to do some serious damage.

"Holy mother of—what are you doing? You crazy b—" Before he had the chance to call me a very ungentlemanly name, he collapsed to his knees, grasping at the very tender bits I had just pummeled with my light. I jumped up, my blood rushing while I held my bright yellow lantern like it was a loaded gun, glaring down at the yellow-haired fool who dared try to attack me. He looked about my age, and I clutched my lantern tighter when I saw he was in good shape and could probably overpower me if he wanted to. Looking back, I may have overreacted just a touch. Not that I'll ever admit that out loud.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" I managed to get out in between puffs of air.

"What am I doing here? You crazy person, what are you doing here? This is someone's home, not some empty warehouse you can squat in! Jesus, I can't feel my legs and I have a date tonight!" He started to stand up, hands cupping his delicate bits, and I felt a twinge of guilt. Well, I did before his grey, accusatory eyes met mine and reminded me I hadn't actually done anything wrong.

"I'm not squatting. This is my house. I own it. Do you always just barge into people's homes and wake the occupants for no good reason?"

"I know for a fact you do not own this house," he said.

"Well, you clearly need a fact-checker because I do, you idiot. Now, get out!" I pointed my free arm in the direction of the door, admiring the fierceness in my voice.

"You can't make me get out of a house you're pretending to own. There's no "finders keepers" when it comes to real estate. I'm gonna call the cops if you don't leave."

This guy was seriously starting to annoy me. The possibility this was just some huge misunderstanding finally crossed my mind, but he was acting like such a jerk, I almost wanted him to call the cops so I could get him arrested for trespassing. I came to my senses, though. Pulling out my VIF—very important folder—from where it sat on the side table, I shoved it into his hands.

"I'm assuming you can read," I said as he looked at me in confusion, the small frown on his face making me notice his chin was dimpled.

"Of course I can," he all but snarled at me, but he opened the folder and read.

I knew the paperwork for the house that proved my claim was on top and I expected him to hand me the folder back after he checked it out. I certainly did not expect him to keep flipping through the pages, perusing the rest of my private documents and letters, eyes widening in shock and disbelief as he read. Dummy move on my end, but I had just woken up and I wasn't at my best.

"Hey, that stuff's private!" I tried to grab it back, but he had crazy jackrabbit reflexes and pulled it away before I could get my hands on it. After a few more tries, I gave up, seriously wishing I had a cell phone so I could call the police to kick his butt out. He finally finished reading and handed me the folder.

"So, my bad...Della, right? Della Deare? You're Gabriella Deare's daughter? How long ago did she pass away? Does your father know you're back here?" he asked, breathless from talking so fast.