Changing the Script -ON HOLD-

Chapter Three

I groan and flop back onto the bed. My door swings open and I'm pretty much blinded by her white dress. Underneath is very obviously her navy blue bathing suit.

"Dude, did you, like, just wake up?" She asks, standing in the doorway.

"Nah, I'm just sitting here."

Cheyenne sighs and walks into my closet. I hear her moving racks around and suddenly, she throws a bathing suit at me. It's a black bikini.

"Get dressed. Come tan with me outside." Cheyenne orders.

I sigh and stand up, the bikini balled up in one of my fists.

Cheyenne smiles and says, "I'm hungry." before turning around and walking back down the hallway, probably going to the kitchen. I have no doubt that one of the cooks has already made something for us to eat, they expect to see Cheyenne.

I slip the bathing suit on, slide my feet into flip flops, pull a strapless silver sundress over my bathing suit.

Sighing, I run a brush quickly through my tussled hair and leave it down.

Slowly, I make my way down the hall and get in the elevator. After the elevator takes me downstairs, I enter the kitchen. Cheyenne is seated at the island in the center of the room. Next to her is a plate for me. I sit down on the wooden stool. The steel appliances glitter with the sunlight coming through the windows.

"Smells good," I comment, "What is it?"

"Cinninon rolls." Arthur, the cook, says to me.

I pick up the fork set at my place and start to eat.

"Wow," I say, nodding in approval. Arthur laughs, used to my reaction to his cooking.

"Art, I have to say it, you are INCREDIBLE!" Cheyenne says, shoving another bite of cinnimon roll into her mouth.

"Mornin' ladies, morning Art." A deep, male voice says. I turn my head to see Brandon walk in.

"Hey," Cheyenne says, unfazed by his sudden appearance.

"Morning." Arthur says, rushing about the kitchen to find something to clean.

I, however, stare at him. I don't think about Garrett and what he did to him, or what Garrett told me last night.

Butterflies fill my stomach and I just about drop my fork.

"Uh..." I stammer, blinking rapidly.

Do I say 'hey'? Or 'good morning'? Should I ask how he slept, or would that sound weird? Okay, I'll just say 'hi'. I won't draw it out and say 'Hiii' or something, I'll just say 'hi'. Would that sound dorky? I CAN NOT sound dorky in front of Brandon. So what do I say? I can say hello, but then that would sound too formal. Or salutations. ..Wait, what? Salutations? Did I honestly just consider saying that? Oh God...I'll just say hi. Hi is fine, not too formal, not too flirty, kind of neutral. Neutral is good, isn't it?

I need to stop thinking, I'm going to drive myself completely and utterly crazy.

Okay, I got this. Breathe. In, out. Deep breaths. I can do this.

"Hi." I say, smiling weakly.

 Brandon seems to notice the deep, red blush that flushes my cheeks. I can feel the heat.

Brandon nods once, real smooth, and exits the kitchen, obviously going to the gardens. He's been doing a pretty good job, if you ask me. The gardens - and there are a TON of them around the house - have really never looked better.

Oh, look at me. I've turned into his cheerleader.

I walk outside with Cheyenne a few minutes later and see Brandon struggling to carry a bag of grass seed, a bag of bird seed, a watering can, and a case full of gardening tools across the big yard.

I unthinkingly sprint over to him. When I reach him, I say "Need some help?"

He nods, a bit sheepish and says "Yeah, thanks."

I take the bag of bird seed and the watering can from him and we begin to walk toward the garden.

"So, enjoying the job so far?" I pray I don't sound stupid.

"Yeah...you've got a pretty nice house here. Your dad's a good guy, too." He replies, looking down at me.

"Haha...thanks. You know, I think you might be the only gardener we've ever had under the age of seventy-five."

"Well, then it's an honor." His voice takes on a kind of seductive tone.

I know this wouldn't be happening if Garrett hadn't left this morning. I wouldn't be talking to him right now. But I can't help it.

We reach the garden and Garret takes the things from my arms. His hands brush over mine very lightly. Can he feel the sparks I do?

I shake my head and hand over the load in my arms. Brandon sets them down on the bench and begins to work on the garden.

I can't bring myself to leave.

Suddenly, he says, "So, tell me about yourself."

I sit down on the bench, tucking my legs underneath me, "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Pretty young," he laughs, "Uhm...do you prefer to be called anything?"

"Not really. I mean, Liv's the usual nickname, but my dad and Gail call me 'princess'."

"Princess, eh?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, it's kind of embaressing."

"I think it's kind of cute. Like you."

WHOA.

Back up.

Did Brandon just call me cute?

I giggle and say, "Thanks."

There's a comfortable silence for a few minutes before I say, "So, what about you?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out." He smirked.

What's that supposed to mean?