"You and I both know that any girl would kill to be in your position, with me, right now." He smirks, knowing that what he's said is completely and utterly true.
Lea Wilson and River Parker don't mix; they don't like the same things, their lives are...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lea
My parents and I climb out of the car, my father locking it as we start towards Malcolm's huge, black BMW. Malcolm had led the way to his house, the journey taking only fifteen minutes, yet the neighborhoods are utterly different. Around this area of town, monstrously large houses stand detached with enormous gardens separating one from their neighbours. In their driveways stand only the latest and most expensive vehicles, putting our beat up Volkswagon to shame.
Be grateful you're alive, Lea. This materialistic stuff means little.
I look up at the beauty before me, the mansion that belongs to Malcolm and his family. Does he have any children?
"Well, this is my house," He says, climbing out of his car. "How about I get you all inside." He smiles at the three of us.
I realise I'm still in my pajamas; short shorts and a crop top. Not that I had any time to change unless I wanted to get swatted by my bedroom ceiling, but it's still embarrassing.
At least I have my robe, I think to myself while wrapping it even tighter around my shivering body. Today's cold night isn't being kind to us. We trail after Malcolm, making our way up the stairs beyond the pillars and wait in front of the tall main door. Malcolm fiddles in his pocket before pulling out a key that's locked onto a set of keyrings. One yellow, rectangular keyring, in particular, outshines the others, attracting my attention - it's our school one that parents are handed during parents evening.
Well then, he probably does have a kid. I mentally scan through the possible people in my year that can be related to Malcolm, kind of hard since I don't know his last name.
Finally, Malcolm unlocks the door, pushing it open and gesturing for us to walk in first. Politely, dad nods at him and steps onto the marble floors covering the hallway, followed by my mother, then me. I have to stop my mouth from hanging open in awe of this place.
"Welcome home." He grins at us.
A comforting lukewarm feeling overwhelms me as he smiles at us; what a lovely person he is. I applaud you Malcolm. As soon as I feel the need to clap, which I wouldn't do anyway because that would be weird, we hear the tapping of the heels of slippers hitting the cream-coloured marble floor of this spacious entrance.
"Welcome!" The chirpy voice comes from a brunette woman, who is approximately the same age as Malcolm. "My name is Brenda." She outstretches her hand to shake my father's.
After hugging mum, she shuffles to me and hugs me with the same hospitable, yet painful bear-hug. Squeezing me tightly, I try not to gasp because of the pain caused by her bracelets pressing against my spine. After pulling away, she pinches both my cheeks with her index fingers and thumbs, wiggling my face slightly as if I were a toddler.
