Legacy

04| I'd rather sell my soul to the Devil

Chapter 04| I'd rather sell my soul to the Devil

\\"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."- Benjamin Franklin//

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        "Aspen, you home?" Ashton inquired loudly, his feet padding loudly across the foyer floor.

        "I'm in the kitchen," I called out loudly, before cursing beneath my breath as I burned my index finger on the tray of cookies I'd just yanked out of the oven.

I shoved tresses of coffee colored hair from my shoulder as I narrowed my gaze on the batch of chewy chocolate-chip cookies accusingly. My bare feet slid across the marbled, slate-gray floors as I sauntered around the kitchen island to grab a plate and glasses from the cabinets.

An enormous array of sunlight descended from the millions of gargantuan windows inset into the elaborate walls. Not surprisingly, the light barely caught onto any specks of dust due to the superb cleaning of the housekeeper Dad had hired.

I heard Ashton's muffled footsteps echo across the foyer, before he crossed the extravagant living room.

        "Did you bake something?" He inquired loudly, sniffing as he entered the kitchen.

        "Yeah, I made cookies." I mumbled, still straining on my toes to reach the glassed that stood at the top shelf.

        "Man, you've got to taste them. I don't know what she puts in them but they're addictive." Ashton demanded exaggeratedly around a mouthful of cookie.

        "Ash," I turned around, surprised. "Who are you talking-?" My voice halted as I caught sight of who was with Ashton.

        "Oh." I muttered, pursing my lips at the sight of Grant.

Audaciously, he winked at me as a taunting smirk crossed his features. "Nice to see you too, princess," he greeted. Infuriatingly, I couldn't figure out if he was being sarcastic or not.

I felt a scowl contort my features as I crossed my arms over my chest.

        "What is he doing here?" I directed my question towards Ashton, while eyeing Grant as if he were nothing but a pest. Which admittedly, he was.

I'd gotten away with avoiding him for the past two nights since that eventful dinner. And I hadn't expected to see him, unwillingly of course, until Monday.  

An infuriating smirk adorned Grant's countenance, yet his eyes seemed to flash with several different emotions.

        "I invited him over for the weekend, Aspen. Relax its nothing major," Ashton rolled his eyes at me before pinning me with a firm stare, and swiping the crumbs from his hands.

        "What about our plans? We were supposed to go to the game tonight, and the mall with Harper and the girls?" I inquired, feeling a bit insulted that he'd forgotten about me so easily.

Ashton looked regretful, "Sorry Penn, I forgot. But we can still go with Grant and give him a tour of the city." He offered.

I'd rather sell my soul to the devil than hang out with Grant Reynolds, I sniped with attitude.

        "No thanks." I declined.

        "Penn," Ashton groaned. "You promised you'd help him out in school, and be friends." He reminded me.

        "No," I snapped. "Technically, you were the only one who said anything about doing that. Not a word about helping Grant ever came from my lips." I was miffed.