I probably spent about an hour and a half clearing out Kaleigh's stuff. She only had a few pieces of furniture (which were all mine), a closet full of clothes (three-fourths of which are mine), and a ton of trash scattered around the room. Several trash bags and a vacuum later, I had Kaleigh's (old) room clean and the remainder of her clothes out on the curb. I changed the gate code and waited by the front door, peeking through the window. Around two o'clock, her black Acura pulled up in front of the gate. She got out and flew straight over to her bags. Ransacking through them quickly, Kaleigh screeched. She raced forward, punching in the old code a few times. I turned on the intercom.
"It's not going to work, Kaleigh."
She crossly replied back, "What happened to all of my clothes?"
I snorted. "Oh, you mean my clothes? I kept them."
I watched her eyes widen slowly on the intercom screen. "You can't do that."
"I can and I did. You have five minutes to leave my property, before I have someone remove you from it. Goodbye, Kaleigh."
She screamed once again and threw her stuff in the backseat.
Not wanting to see her go, I started back upstairs to take a shower. I didn't know what was taking Chanel so long, but I did know that I had about thirty minutes to get ready before Chanel barged in and dragged me out by my ears. I walked into my master bedroom, leaving the door open simply because I could. I stripped down on my way to the bathroom, cranking up the music.
My guilty pleasure is rock. We all have them. Chanel insists that the only "elegant" music ladies should listen to is classical (though I know she has a secret affection for jazz). Of course, Paris, Prada and I think think that ridiculous but we abide by her rules- when she's around. Paris loves pop and Prada, a peculiar fondness of "screamo" music.
"Red Lights" poured out of the speakers as I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down my body. My bathroom was constructed by a friend of my father's and he did a wonderful job. The design was all tile, glass, granite and wood. The shower walls were made of glass and were becoming cloudier by the minute as the condensation crept up the door.
After what felt like a few hours, I decided to get out before I looked all pruned. I turned off the shower and stepped out onto the cool, tile floor. Wrapping two fluffy, white towels around my body and hair, I started towards the door- and stopped. The music had ceased.
Was someone in the house again? What should I do?
I reached for the candle stand in the corner, holding it in my grip like a baseball bat. I rounded the corner, swinging open the door and- dropped the "bat" to my side, rolling my eyes.
Chanel sat in a winged chair in the corner of my room, head held high and ankles crossed, like a queen on her throne. Dylan leaned against the foot of my bed, and in his eyes, a look I couldn't quite identify.
Tugging my towel tighter around my body, I asked, "What is he doing here, Chanel?"
Dylan clutched his hand to chest in mock offense. "I'm hurt. Is this how she greets all of her guests, or is it just me?" He asked, pointed towards the candle stand.
Chanel ignored him. "Sorry, I'm late. I had to pick up this one and he takes forever."
She got up out of the chair and walked into my closet. I followed suit. Chanel rifled through my racks of clothing while I put on my underwear. As soon as I turned around, she thrusted an outfit towards me, expectantly. It nearly matched what she was wearing. Instead of a white blouse, black pencil skirt, and black Chanel pumps, she held out a skater dress with a white top and black bottom, and black Louboutin stilettos. She finally got the hint when I didn't reach for the stack.
"Oh, yeah, sorry." An apologetic expression crossed over her face as she set the clothes down and bowed out of the closet, closing the door behind her.
Ugh! I'm so tired of her trying to dress me up like some doll.
You know what? Forget classy; I'm going sporty.
I ran to my gear-of-failed-sports chest and pulled out a pair of black basketball shorts, a black Nike shirt, Eilte socks, and black Nike Benassi sandals. After putting on the outfit, I pulled my brunette locks into a high, sleek ponytail. Comtemplating whether I should go out or not, I searched around the room for a sign; my eyes landed on my shirt.
Just Do It.
And I did. I grabbed the gold-plated door handle and swung the door open. Dylan smirked at me. Chanel's jaw dropped to the floor as I casually strolled out of the closet. Her jaw tightened- and then relaxed.
"There's been a change of plans. I apologize for my flakiness, but I have to accompany my parents at a business brunch today. They need the whole family to be there."
"Should I go too?" Dylan asked.
Chanel froze. "You know it's best if you don't, Dylan."
I saw the changes immediately. Miminimal changes, yes, but noticable. He nodded but his jaw had tightened, making the nod stop short. The spark in his eyes had dimmed and he folded his arms lossely across his chest. The small fake smile sat on his face.
Here we go.
~ ~ ~
God, I want to scream.
"Dylan, slow down, for God's sake!" Chanel screeched as Dylan swerved around various cars, haphazardly driving down the highway.
The sun was set high in the sky; the Californian summer heat blazing. At least the mall has air conditioning. I was kind of relieved though. I really don't feel like following Chanel around in one hundred degree weather while she struggles to find the perfect man (and shoes).
"Chanel, the speed limits sixty five, I'm only going seventy ." He rolled his eyes. He was still acting a little distant.
"The speed limit is fifty five and you're going seventy. Are you trying to get pulled over?"
Dylan slowed down to only ten miles over the speed limit, mumbling under his breath.
I peeked through the rearview at Chanel. She sat, staring at Dylan with a pouty expression, her colossal designer sunglasses, shading her eyes. She glanced over, looking at me and I was glad Dylan let me borrow his extra pair of RayBans. I stared back, studying her reflection. From behind the shading of her glasses, I thought I saw Chanel narrow her eyes-
"And, we've arrived." Dylan announced, turning off the engine.
Chanel slid out of the backseat indignantly, throwing a kiss over her shoulder at Dylan. She didn't look back once.
Yeah, you have fun, too.
As we pulled away from the curb, Dylan turned towards me.
"So, what do you want do?" He asked monotoniously, not looking up.
Go home and sleep.
"I don't know. What did you have in mind?"
He finally gave me a big, wolfy smile and sped off down the street.
~ ~ ~
Song: Red Lights by Tiesto.
Sorry we have't updated in forever. We wrote a chapter and then it accidently got deleted so we had to start over. :( We have quite a lot of events that will be taking place soon so don't go anywhere. We'll try to update another chapter as soon as possible. We could use some feed back so maybe we could get the chapters rolling a little more.
We'll update every 30 reads!!)
Who do you ship? Kenzington and Dylan? Or Kenzington and Harry?
Thanks for being patient and for the 507 reads! Also, Thanks for your support and hopefully we'll have a chapter up in no time!
~ M. Claire & AK
