Seal The Deal (Brooklyn Beckham)

Chapter 16-Kinky Shits

Chapter 16

Brooklyn's hand were 'dearly'-sarcasm-wrapped around my wrist in attempt of prying me off of my place. My mouth was agape, because, still in awe of the house, I can't help but stand here dumbfounded by everything that surrounded me. A large flat screen TV? Beckhams got it. A crystal-looking table lamp? Check. A white and sophisticated couch? Check-and yes, a couch that is probably prettier than I am exists, and it can be found in the home of the Beckhams. Of course. Brooklyn gave me another irksome tug, obviously impatient. "Hey, hold your horses. I wanna look at your house."

"You got plenty of time for that when they accept you."

My eyes widened at his words. "Really? You think they'll accept me?"

"Sadly, yes." Brooklyn frowned at the thought then tugged at me again. "Just go home and stop embarrassing yourself, will yah?"

Oh, yes. The embarrassing encounter with his mother. "Is that why you're tugging the life out of me? Get rid of the embarrassment in your house?"

Brooklyn did an eye-roll. "Do you think I'm tugging you for a tea party?"

"That sounds so british." I pulled my hands free, rubbed my wrist, and went back to staring around the house. "No offense," I added.

"I thought we're having a fight."

"I'm done with it. Forgive me or not, I don't care."

"Is that so?" Brooklyn's gaze felt like a challenge, and I merely nodded.

"Alright. Can you seriously handle this by yourself?" Again, his gaze felt the same and so as his words.

"Sure I can." Can I?

..

Tristan's stare is wildly vivid enough to question my whereabouts. His blue orbs dug into my brown ones, and so I start feeling conscious. But when I told him where I was, he stopped talking only to stare once again. "Tristan?"

"You went to the Beckham's house?" he gasps, forcing down the sandwhich he was chewing before I got to tell him I went to see Brooklyn. It seems hard for him to believe that I went into the Beckham house, and so he tries to stare through me to look for a sign of a lie. He licks lightly at his bottom lip, and coughs twice. "How was it like?"

I am never sure where to start describing their house-or mansion. My fingers tapped distinctively on the table, and I started thinking. "They have a freakishly large dining table. Then their living room is filled with technologies you never thought existed. It's what you really picture with a filthy rich family's house."

Tristan shifts on the stool he sits on, and drops the sandwhich to his plate. "So, you also got to see the Beckhams, right?" He looked eager to know, and I honestly assumed he is going to be agitated when I tell him I went to see the boy he did not wish for me to see. The way his eyes asked, he looks far from being agitated.

I shrug. "Of course," and my hands went to fumble with my shirt. Shit, that embarrassing encounter with Victoria. And I still have to tell him that I will be applying as Harper Beckham's personal babysitter. "I only saw Victoria, though," I add.

"That's freaking awesome! Was she gorgeous?"

I'm starting to build up my mind with questions. Tristan is not giving me the reaction I thought he will give. Instead of being curious of why the hell I was in Brooklyn's house, he asks this entirely different queestions. "Tristan, aren't you gonna ask me why the hell I was there?"

Tristan's face crumples into a look of realization. "Yeah, the question quite plays in the back of my mind. Care to tell me why?"

"Late, much?"