Bad Boy Religion

Chapter 2 - Ashton DeRose

Chapter 2

Ashton DeRose

I stared at the big house in front of me. Find his house in the first place had already felt eerie, but seeing the grey stone house in which he lived up close only added to the feeling.

His driveway had been long, and constantly curving...all to end up at an upscale manor at the very top of the hill. 

I looked at the two mahogany doors in front of me. Door handles painted a stone grey brassy color, they were antique and took on a mysterious looking shape. Swirly red patterns were painted onto the door, and then glossed over green etching. A gold plaque gleamed on the titled, DeRose with engraved rose etchings on either side of the name.

Everything was beautiful, and intricate, nothing of the home looked modern but rather vintage and antique. From an era deemed forgotten in comparison to the newer upscale looking homes that had taken over the rest of the town. 

The home looked welcoming enough, yet suffocating all at the same time.

I had rung the doorbell twice. I was very conscious of what I was wearing. A black spaghetti strap tank top, my favorite loose jeans with my run down black converse. Usually, I went to school in a random sweater and leggings. He was attractive, that's why you're dressed up, that's what it was I convinced myself. My curls were a few days old, peering at my reflection on the door knob I quickly fluffed up my curls.  

I tugged down my tank top and fiddled with my fingers. I wondered what he had been hospitalized for, what his parents did for a living, and whether he was good at literature or not. 

I broke out of my thoughts when I heard footsteps.

Ashton swung the door wide open. He barely glanced at me and walked away. 

I stepped inside then gently shut the door behind me.
Slowly I took off my shoes as I marveled at the house from the inside. 

Everything was like walking into a museum, frames hung up on every single inch of the wall. All medium sized frames covered every single wall. Pictures of different landscapes filled each one. A desert, a grassy hill, a beach and so many different pictures. They filled every single wall until the ceiling. 

"Wow, these pictures are gorgeous...who took these?" I couldn't help but blurt out. 

He was on the foot of the stairs waiting for me to finish taking my shoes off. His hair was messy and unkept, as though he had just woken from a nap. Like he forgot I was coming.

"My mom is a photographer for National Geographic," he said slowly and crossed his arms. 

I started walking towards the right wall, getting a closer look at the photographs I could see they were printed on a matte photo paper, with each frame being different...I couldn't help but be in awe.

"That's a cool job to have...she gets to travel a lot I'm guessing," I say looking over at him.

He shrugs, "She doesn't travel as much anymore."

"Why not?"

"Are you here to talk about my mother or do our english project?"

I stayed quiet. 

He was wearing grey pants and a white basketball shirt. As for shoes, they were black house slippers.

When we entered his room I couldn't believe what I saw. It was clean. Clean to a freak type of way. He had a black three shelved bookshelf all across his room. Wrapping it around and in it was books. Lots and lots of books. I even peeped a Bible on the top shelf.