A Certain Not-So-Bad Boy

{three}

"So that's why he's coming over," I finished.

Noah looked pale after I told him what was happening. "He is on his way. To our house?"

Ding, dong. The generic double chime rang throughout the house. "Nope, he's already here." I got up from the kitchen table and went to open the door.

"Maya," Carson said with a nod. He peered over my shoulder to my brother. "And this is..."

"I'm...I'm, uh..."

"Noah," I sighed. "He's not gonna kill you or anything. Quit being such a drama queen."

Noah's face turned into a slight scowl. "Don't forget I still have that album with your baby pictures..."

"Okay! I'm sorry!"

Noah grinned and muttered something along the lines of 'works every time'. Carson stood at the side, watching us with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Sorry, come on in." I shoved Noah over despite him having a few inches on my 5'6" figure.

Carson stepped inside and his eyes scanned around the entry. "Nice place."

"Thanks. My mom was an interior designer."

"Was?"

My eyes widened a fraction as I realized my mistake. I just awkwardly coughed and began walking to the living room. Carson must've sensed my discomfort because he let it go and followed me. Noah had escaped to his room sometime in the middle of our exchange.

I sat down next to my backpack which was already on the couch. Carson followed suit on the opposite end of it and began to pull out a book.

"So... where to start?"

"Let's start where you begin any story," I suggested. "At the beginning."

* * * * * *

I perked up when I heard the front door slam shut. "I'm home!"

"Living room," I called back. I heard some shuffling, some thumps, and a single loud crash. My dad trudged into the room seconds later, muttering under his breath and clutching his elbow.

"I always run into that table in the entry," he said, examining his hand. He finally looked up and noticed we weren't the only ones in the room. "Oh, hello there."

"Hello, sir," Carson replied smoothly.

"Maya?" he asked, with a questioning gaze directed at me.

"This is Carson. We're working on a project together."

"It's the first day of school."

"That's what I thought too." Mrs. Warner wasn't kidding about her whole 'hard work' spiel.

Dad shook his head. "Alright then. Will you be staying for dinner?"

Carson glanced at the clock. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Martin, but I have to be home soon. In fact, I should get going." He began stuffing his backpack with his book, pens, and notebook.

Dad shrugged. "Okay, well it was nice to meet you." He left promptly, probably to order the pizza we were most likely having for dinner.

"Leaving so soon?" I asked, slightly suspicious of his behavior.

"I knew you wanted me around," he said, with his smirk once again plastered on his face. He was surprisingly serious when we were working on the project, and it was like he flipped a switch in his brain and the arrogant rich kid was back.

"Yeah, you scare my brother. It's hilarious." 

"Feisty as always. I like it." He gave a wink and slung his bag over his shoulder.

I followed him to the front door. "Bye, Carson," I said after rolling my eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous," he said, his smirk ever-prominent.

I rolled my eyes (again) and simply shut the door on his face.

A few seconds later my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Carson: Don't roll your eyes so much or they might stay that way. ;)

* * * * * *

I ducked, wove, and dodged through the sea of humans, all the way to my locker. I spun the dial right, left, and then right again, and pulled it open. Just as the door swung open on its hinges, it was slammed shut from my right by a purple manicured hand.

I knew who it was even before I turned to look at her. I could tell from the way it smelled like she bathed in perfume. "Brooke. May I be of service?" I asked in a monotone voice. 

I was late to lunch from having to stay back and talk to Mr. Tegman about tutoring someone in the class. He noticed that I was fidgeting and let me go to lunch, saying we would continue tomorrow.

"You can, actually. Stay away from Carson. Why don't you get that you're a bland, boring girl? You'll never give him the excitement he gets with me, face it already. So don't even try, or I swear, I will destroy you," she says, an innocent smile playing on her lips. But my mom once told me "Never trust lips. They're masters of deceit. Eyes are transparent; there's a reason they're called the window to the soul." She was poetic like that.

I shoved away the bubble of emotion rising in my throat and cleared the sadness from my head. My eyes tore to her icy blue ones. There wasn't anything innocent about them. There was a demonic spark to them, like she knew exactly how to tear me apart. The thing was she actually did. And a part of me knew she wouldn't hesitate.

Here's the thing about Brooke. She has the IQ of a peanut, or so she makes everyone think. I knew for a fact that she knew exactly where to hit me to cripple me. She's surprisingly clever, and in a dark way, I almost admire it in her.

But my subtle respect for Brooke, covering up things that I put behind me, nothing will ever go back to the way it was. I can only hope the universe won't take what I have left.   

{a/n}

Brooke's back! *eye roll* *realization that I actually do roll my eyes too much* *careless shrug*

I've been getting such positive feedback on this story and on my other story Lost & Found. I just wanted to say that reading comments is so much fun! Every time I see an email from Wattpad I drop what I'm doing and I get so excited. Someone cared enough to leave their thoughts on something I wrote! I love you, random human (or non-human, I don't discriminate)!

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-Seagull