The Secret Rebel (Rough Draft)

Chapter 29 *completely unedited*

SometimesI think about that moment, and I can't help but sniffle. I wonderwhat Gray thinks when he thinks of thatmoment.Is he sad? Does he feel judged? I don't think I'll never know; but atleast I can say I tried.

Staringout the large bay window, I nearly felt my eyes roll out of my head.Is that snow? Pulling out my phone I snapped a picture, feverentlytyping 'since when the hell does it snow california.' Sending theimage, I watch in wonder how the thick flakes fall then immediatelydisappear once they hit the ground. Blooplookingdown at my phone I watched as a fish emoji popped up, swiping up thephone I opened the ghost app. Feeling just a hairline excited I openthe message. It's a picture of his feet. Gross why does he think Iwant to see his feet? Crunching my face I read over the text, 'itsnows sometimes, but this kind of rare.' clicking the message close,I watch as another mesage instantly appeared. But this time, insteadof it just being an image, it's a video.

"Watchthis."

Watchingthe video, I watch as he backs away from the phone that he propedagainst something, maybe his desk, then back away. Stalking towardsthe beat up punching bag, I took in the fact he's very much soshirtless. More or so oggling his shirtless form, I watch as hequickly moves, doing some weird punch, kick, then spin routine. Makethe bag look like its enduring the worst abuse of its life. Then oncehe decided he had thoroughly beaten the bag he walked back over tothe camera, and with a shake of his hair, I watched as the sweat flewoff. With a cocky smile looked at the camera, and with a wink said-

"whatabout them apples" then the screen went blank.

"showoff." I spoke aloud to no one.

Snappinga picture of my face confused, with puffed cheeks, I wrote, 'hm, IdkI think the punching bag had a little bit of life still in it.'Sending the image, I pressed my palms on the side of the floor andstoof up.

Todayis a good day; because today is christmas eve. And that meanstommorow is christmas. Which means I get to go to Italy to visitNonna. Images of the grape fields flooded into my mind. The sweetsmell they gave the air was something I can only describe asserenity. Smiling I walked down the latter like stairs and out theplexiglass door that is almost never locked anymore. I dont thinkanyone can be bothered to lock it. Walking into the office, I stareat the random dress suits.

"igotta say this isnt dads most impressive work." i fumbled withsleek mix matched striped blazer. It's texture coarse and itchylooking. Yet somehow still undeniably modern in every sense.

Decidingto ingore the rest of the business suits, walking out of the room, Imake my way down the warm hallway and stairs. Trekking into thekitchen I look around. To eat or not to eat, is the qeustion. Givinga quick glance at my legs, i all too quickly avert my eyes. Maybesomething small wouldn't hurt. Sifting through the fidge, notice arather big jar.

"Pickles!"happily grabbing the oversized jar, I waddle my way back to my room.Noticing some thing weird I give an awkward glance around the room.

Where is everyone?

Curlingmy lip I walked around the house, chomping on a pickle I let out a"hello.... Is anyone home?" and just like I had expected, noresponse. But why? Maybe everyone is just doing some last minuteshopping? Shrugging my shoulders, i try not to overthink it, theyalways leave me home alone, what's another day? Right? Turning backaround, i walked up the obnoxiously wide stairs and to the left wherei enter the office. Then to the right, weaving through the same suitthat almost give a life like aura to them. It's kind of creepy, howstill the suits are. Shivering off the feeling of being watched byclothes, i opened the glass door and quickly close it behind me. Andas quickly as i close it, i run up the stairs as if the suits aregoing to get me.