Grace

two - sweet revenge

           “I need you to do something for me please. This is an emergency, okay? Like legit emergency. And you seem to be the only one who’s willing to do this kind of—”

           “I’m not going to sell myself for sale, Arabelle. Shut up.”

           “Ugh, no, Grace, that’s not what—”

           “Hurry then. I don’t have time to listen to your outrageous ideas that includes me humiliating myself, especially in front of cute boys. Wow, now I can’t seem to get that one memory—”

           “Listen! You’re still up for that dream of yours wanting an adventure or something? Yeah, that, okay, I need you to pack your stuff, like a lot—as much as you can, or whatever. And then I’m going to text you an address. You take your stuff over to that place, okay? I’ll explain everything to you later when I meet you there. Meanwhile, have fun with Drew.”

           “Who the hell is Drew?”

          Grace stares at the confused looking man in front of her in curiosity with a spark of interest building inside her. Is he Drew? Something tugs the corner of her lips as she realizes that the man is still staring at her with a confused look.

           “I—”

          He stops abruptly to listen to whoever he’s talking on the phone. She just patiently waits in amusement. She’s no longer nervous like before when she was debating whether she should ring the doorbell or not. However, she’s quite confused as to why would Arabelle, her good friend, send her here. And why bring as much stuff as she could? She can’t wait to hear Arabelle’s stupid explanation. She can’t even believe she’s actually doing this, but if her friend promises her for a good adventure, then she’s ready.

          Just then, she uses her time to discreetly look over the features of Drew—she assumes—in front of her. The first thing that catches her attention is his milky fair complexion. She’s quite amazed at how smooth his skin looks like—somehow jealous, too, because she has to deal with unwanted pimples and such, but luckily there aren’t any at the moment. His eyebrows are knitted in confusion as he continues to talk on the phone. His hair, she notices, is ruffled messily; pieces of dark brown hair sticking up in different directions. She tries to hide a small smile that’s starting to form on her face. Her gaze moves down to his admirable gray eyes, landing on his now tainted pink cheeks.

          Is he blushing?

          She jumps a little when she hears someone clearing their throat. She then looks up at Drew to see that he looks a bit overwhelmed. She hopes that he didn’t see her scanning his face, because she doesn’t want to scare him away already. She hasn’t even stepped into the house yet.

           “Um . . . I take it that Bells—I mean, uh, Arabelle sent you here?”

          She widens her eyes as she finally figures what’s intriguing—and interesting—about him to her. He has an accent. He’s British. How can she have not figured that out when he asked her who she is earlier? Maybe she hadn’t heard him properly, because of the anxiety that was building in her.

          As if he can’t get any more attractive. Can he?

           “I—uh—wait—um—what?” she stutters, still can’t get over how she’s just right in front of an incredibly cute British guy. She can’t help but ramble, “You’re—you’re British. You have this accent, and, um, you’re British! How in the world—it’s not like it’s a bad thing, because I actually think it’s cool, you know? I don’t know why, but I just—” She stops when she hears him chuckle to himself. She closes her mouth instantly, pressing her lips tightly to stop her from saying anymore stupid things.