Living With The Bad Boy

Chapter 2 || You Look Like A Greek God

▲ Chapter 2 || You Look Like A Greek God ▲

"And this is your room," Marisa states, pushing the door open to reveal a small, cosy bedroom.

The walls are a soft, cream colour and there is a big window that lets the bright afternoon sunlight lighten the room. Standing centre of it is a queen-sized bed draped in a cream quilt and accessorised with hundreds of colourful, decorative pillows, and sitting at each side of the bed are two wooden bedside tables with old-looking lamps sitting on each of them.

"This is lovely, Marisa," I smile, dragging my suitcase next to the bed as my eyes dance around the room. Marisa brings the other suitcase next to the one I'm holding and props it up onto its wheels.

"There's also an ensuite," she informs me, opening the wooden door and flicking on the ensuite's light switch. "Is there anything you need?" she spins on her heels to turn back to me, "Any toiletries, food...?" she trails off and raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"No, I'm good, thank you," I smile.

Satisfied, she departs the room, allowing me some time to settle in. I flop onto the bed and sink into the mattress, breathing in the fresh coconut scent of washed sheets.

Staying in this house will be a breeze. Well, with one monumental exception, that is - Blake. However, that might not be such a problem if I can somehow get him to open up to me. It'll be hard work, I imagine.

For the next ten minutes, I begin to unpack my suitcases, placing all my clothes into the wooden chest of drawers. I then put my makeup bag and toiletry kit in the ensuite, a laptop on my bedside table, speakers and my favourite perfume on top of my chest of drawers, and a tired me plopped on my bed.

Once my heart beat has slowed to a normal pace and I don't feel like I'm going to pass out any second, I sit up and grab my laptop. I haven't done much work over the week, which means that I have a fair amount of homework and assessments to complete, especially since it's four weeks till the end of school and our teachers have ever-so generously decided to make all assessments due within the same week.

I hear muffled talking outside my room and freeze as I try to make out what they were saying. I could see two shadows under the door.

"I mean, she could've been in the other spare bedroom. Why choose this one?" I recognise that voice as Blake, and he sounds very irritated.

"Don't do this here," Marisa hushes, "I understand you're upset, but this is the only room with an ensuite. It's more practical. You have the main bathroom and she has the room with the ensuite. I thought you would've liked that. That way, you're not in each other's ways in the morning."

"Bullshit," he scoffs, "You knew I'd be annoyed, which is why you didn't bother telling me what room she's in until I find out now - when she's here."

Marisa gasps like she's never heard Blake swear before, "Mind your language!"

"Really? You're really gonna complain about my language right now when there's a much bigger problem to discuss?"

"You used to be such a nice, well-mannered boy, but you're changing, Blake, and I don't like it."

"I've been like this for a while now, mom, and yet you only seem to notice and care about my behaviour now."

"I've always cared, Blake. But things have been difficult for-"

"They've been difficult for all of us," he snaps, "That doesn't mean I detach myself from my family rather than care for them."

"That's so hypocritical of you!" Marisa almost laughs, "You never talk to Jay or I anymore even though we've trying so hard lately-"