Reckless

Chapter 4

reck·less (Adj) [ rékləss ] without thought of danger: marked by a lack of thought about danger or other possible undesirable consequences

________________________________________________________________________

The double doors loomed over me. "Uh, you can go in and then I can stay in the car," I turned around quickly and smashed my nose into Quentin's chest. "Ouch," I grumbled while rubbing my nose.

"Come on, they aren't that bad." Quentin's eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, blowing his cover of confidence.

"Oh yeah I bet, especially after all you said in the car ride over here, I shouldn't worry about a thing!" I decided to quit playing cool, these doors were like the Dementors in Harry Potter, sucking out all happiness and hope . Quentin smiled evily and leaned over me, he grew closer and closer. Was this his way of easing my nerves!? By trying to kiss me? Well it definitely wasn't working, "What are you.." I became increasingly nervous as his mouth grew closer to mine, this was not part of the plan! My worry subsided after I heard a faint bell inside the house. He had rung the bell.

"Oops, too late to let you get back in the car." Quentin smirked.

"You little," I started but instead just shook my head and started walking towards the car.

"Oh, no, I don't think so." Quentin wrapped his arms around my waist and swung me back around so I was in the same place as I was before. I tried again but this time Quentin spun me around a few times, I started laughing giddly. I was finally put down but depsite my laughing, I hit Quentin playfully on the arm. He raised his eyebrows, challenging me to hit him again. I mocked his facial expression; not the smartest thing to do. He picked me up and slung me over his shoulder!

"Quentin! Quentin, put me down!" I was still spinning on his shoulder. "Put me down, now." I started punching his shoulder awkwardly. Most of the time I missed and only punched air so I decided to give up.

My laughing was cut short when Quentin practically dropped me and his arms moved to his sides like they were magnitized. I looked to where he was staring and my face grew solemn when I saw Mrs. Barnett.

"Who is this?" Mrs. Barnett sneered.

"Uh, my girlfriend," Quentin spoke calmy and grabbed my hand. There were a few seconds where Mrs. Barnett just stared at me.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Quentin has spoken so highly of you." I put on my brightest smile and held my other free hand out.

"Has he?" Mrs. Barnett looked to Quentin while she shook my hand.

"Oh, of course." I smiled even brighter. Mrs. Barnett stared at Quentin a little while longer before finally stepping aside to let us enter her home.

"Welcome," She said as we passed. Quentin still held my hand and led me down the hall. Immediately my nostrils were filled with the delicious smell of chicken. The house was huge but welcoming and warm. I had expected a sterile and completely white house with a hint of metal. But instead, there were plush carpets and leather couches and candles lit in every room. The deep reds and browns combined nicely into a homely house. A few steps down the hallway and a left turn led us to the kitchen where Mr. Barnett, as I infered, stood in an apron while cooking the sizzling chicken.

"Well who is this lovely lady?" Mr. Barnett's voice resonated through the house.

"Quentin's girlfriend, honey!" Mrs. Barnett was all too excited to let Quentin respond. Through the awkwardness of it all I managed to smile brightly and straighten my back to add that touch of professionalism. My motto for rich families: Don't do anything you wouldn't do in a castle. And so far it had been working out.