A Bad Boy in my life

Two | Remember who you are

I gazed at the marvelous facade of the house, but little did I know that the true meaning of awe would hit me when I entered the pool area. It was a sight beyond imagination.

Inside the house, they had a massive pool, and I couldn't help but wonder if this place could get any better.

Sure, I had been to houses with pools before, although not as many as I'd like to. But even Jennifer Packerson's house, which boasted the most beautiful pool on our Seattle street, paled in comparison to the Stirling's pool. The pool area resembled a water park more than just a leisure area. To say it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen would be an understatement.

"Take this to Mrs. Stirling," My mom said handing me a tray filled with mouthwatering strawberries and other tropical fruits. "She's in the pool area. Ask her if she needs anything else and come back here."

I nodded and carefully held the tray in my hands.

As I walked towards the pool area, I couldn't help but be torn between admiring the path and the seductive allure of the perfect strawberries in front of me. The bowl seemed to overflow with an abundance of fruits, more than my stomach could handle. Would Mrs. Stirling mind if I snuck a strawberry? The temptation was hard to resist.

During my journey, I couldn't resist the urge and ended up stealing more strawberries than I had initially intended. But there were still plenty left.

And there she was, Mrs. Karen, basking under the shade of an umbrella, reclining on a comfortable lounger with a straw hat on her head. Serene and carefree, she exuded an aura of wealth, beauty, and good health, truly living the life she deserved on a sunny day like this.

I would give anything to have a life like hers.

"Thank you, dear," she said appreciatively as I placed the tray on the table beside her.

"You're welcome."

Unbeknownst to me, I found myself standing there like a statue, simply lost in contemplation of a life I would never have until Mrs. Karen addressed me once again.

"Do you want some?" she kindly offered, pointing towards the array of fruits.

More?

Feeling a bit uncertain and silly, I didn't know what to say. If I had known she would offer, I wouldn't have succumbed to the temptation of stealing the strawberries. Now I felt dishonest, but I ultimately accepted her offer.

"Sit there," she gestured towards the empty lounger beside her.

"I'm not sure if I should..."

"Nonsense! I could really use someone to talk to."

With her encouragement, I hesitantly settled on the edge of the lounger, facing her.

"You used to live in Seattle, right? Did you enjoy it there?" she inquired, initiating a pleasant conversation.

And that's how our conversation began, delving into different aspects of our lives. I shared snippets of my experiences, and we discussed various topics. Mrs. Karen mentioned how she had lived in Seattle for a few years during her adolescence, fondly reminiscing about visiting the Space Needle with her late father, which had been her favorite place.

"Now," she added with a tinge of sadness in her smile, "I don't find it as appealing to go back there. My father is no longer with us."

"I'm sorry," I expressed my sympathy.

She smiled, revealing a hidden sadness behind it.

"And are you enjoying Toronto?"

"I'm slowly getting used to it," I sighed. "The truth is, change is always challenging, but sometimes it comes at the right time."

"You'll adapt soon," she reassured me with a kind smile

, as if she knew what she was talking about. "In a few days, you'll go to school, make new friends, and it will feel as if you've lived here your whole life."

"Yeah... I hope I can embrace this change."

Just as the conversation took a pleasant turn, my mother abruptly appeared. Her deadly gaze fixed upon me, a look I remembered all too well. Even after spending 6 years away from her, that expression alone conveyed her message: "I need to talk to you, young lady."

Had she seen me stealing the strawberries?

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you need anything else, Mrs. Karen?" I hastily interjected, hoping to divert attention.

After Mrs. Stirling declined any further assistance, my mother turned her gaze towards me, her voice laced with irritation. "Margo, I need your help in the kitchen. Come with me."

Feeling awkward, I reluctantly followed her, leaving behind the inviting pool area.

Once we reached the veranda, my mother unleashed her frustration. "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice bordered on a shout.

"I don't know. Did I do something...?"

"What was that? I told you to leave the tray and ask if Mrs. Karen needed anything else. You had no business standing there as if you had nothing else to do!"

"She offered me some..."

"It doesn't matter!" she rudely interrupted. "They offer out of courtesy; you shouldn't accept. Things don't work the way you're thinking here. Remember who you are and who she is!"

I hadn't forgotten who I was, nor had I lost sight of my circumstances. I was acutely aware of my reality and the reason why I was there.

But my mother failed to grasp the magnitude of the changes that had suddenly upended my life. She couldn't comprehend that just last month, my only concerns were returning home, completing homework, and perhaps visiting Ashley's house to gossip about others. And now, I was thrust into a life similar to my mother's, taking on her responsibilities and expectations.

"Thanks for reminding me that I'm not at home," I retorted, my frustration seeping through my words.

Frustrated and overwhelmed, I stormed off in a random direction, desperately longing for my normal life. Why did my mother have to be so strict?

Navigating through the vastness of the house, I found myself entering a bathroom without realizing someone else was inside. Startled, I recoiled at the sight of a half-naked girl.

"AAHH!!!" I let out a scream.

The girl glanced at me, seemingly unfazed, and continued brushing her teeth as if nothing had happened. Her attire consisted of a loosely-fitted black shirt, along with a disheveled hairstyle that defied the laws of nature.

She appeared to have just engaged in some intimate activities, to say the least.

"Sorry, I... didn't know someone was here," I stammered, embarrassed by the awkward encounter.

"Then maybe you should knock next time," she retorted, brushing past me rudely and entering the adjacent room.

Confused and bewildered, I couldn't comprehend what had just transpired. Who was this girl, and what was she doing here? I didn't even know what I was doing there myself.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked through the crack of the door to catch a glimpse of the room she entered. Inside, I witnessed her and a boy locked in a passionate embrace. Ah, I recognized him. He was the brooding bad boy who had walked through the doors the previous day. What was his name again? Maven, Max, Mark? It didn't matter — I was getting out of there.

I have always found it difficult to comprehend what exactly attracts girls to that particular type of guy. It seems that such relationships often result in nothing but heartbreak, profound regret the following day, or even worse consequences.

Personally, I have made up my mind never to engage with individuals of that nature.