deeper shades // bridgit mendler [DISCONTINUED]

[two]

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[two]

[bridgit]

Lola sat me down on a stool at a kitchen island in a kitchen that didn't seem to be used at any point in time. She went to the fridge and opened the door, almost immediately shutting it afterward.

"That is the emptiest refrigerator I've ever seen," she joked lightly in an attempt to make me feel better. However, I just groaned and rested my head on the marble.

"Should I call Garrett?" Lola laughed as I rose slightly and gave her a look.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"No you don't," she assured me. "You love me. That's why you're going to let me take your credit card and buy about four boxes of Papa Johns' cheese pizza."

I rolled my eyes and lifted myself a couple of centimeters off of the stool in order to slide my credit card out.

"Knock yourself out," I told her, sliding it across the island. Lola caught it and grinned at me.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the summer?" She asked, picking up a landline next to the sink and dialing the number for LA's best Papa Johns. How or why she has chosen to memorize it, I don't know.

I shrugged and began to flip my phone in my hands. "Tour resumes in September and ends in October. Between now and then, I've been thinking about charity work. Maybe do some fundraiser performances."

Lola smirked as she held the phone to her ear and waited for the pizzeria to pick up. "Bridgit Mendler, the philanthropist. You know, I don't say this often but I'm really proud of you."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "You never say that."

"True but-" Lola held up a finger and began to talk on the phone. "Hello? Yes, do you guys deliver to Beverly Hills? Perfect..."

The doorbell rang and I looked toward it. From the glass framing the wooden door, I made out a male figure. Maybe the spontaneous key that Harry had given me was his only one. So, I got up and answered it.

Once I opened the door, the guy, who wasn't Harry by the way, smirked at me.

"You are hot," he told me in a Scottish accent, accompanied with a seductive-like grin. I was caught off guard, so all I could do was stand there with my mouth slightly open like a dead fish. The dude was a bit handsome, dark hair that fell in curls a bit more impressive than Harry's about his face. However, he had just proved himself to be a douchebag.

"Jeremy, that's Harry's fiancée," another guy behind him hissed. This new character had blonde hair and a Southern British accent (don't even ask how I've learned to distinguish that). His eyes were dark blue and didn't seem as abrasive as his friend.

"So?" Jeremy asked with a small shrug, his eyes leaving mine to look at the other guy. "I used to flirt with Wren all the time and Harry didn't give a damn."

I frowned but no one noticed.

"Yeah, well Wren and Harry weren't engaged," the other guy reminded him. Jeremy just shrugged.

"Okay, one question," I piped. "Who in the hell are you?"

Jeremy winked at me and opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by his friend.