Bainbridge Bride

Chapter 3

Kent is pictured above..

"I think I should go actually." I tell Kent. He hangs his head in defeat, then looks up, meeting me with his bright blue eyes.

"I'll see you around Paige." he says, leading me to the door. As he moves closer I catch his scent. A soft, yet manly cologne that I recognize. Calvin Klein One. Jasper's old favorite that he doesn't wear anymore.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks. I drop my smile and make my way down the porch steps.

"No reason." I say abruptly before I hear the front door close. I feel my heartbeat quicken when I see my mother sweeping the porch. I don't feel like explaining myself to her.

"I see you've met our new neighbors." she says emotionlessly. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Yes, they're- nice." I choke out. She sets the broom against the side of the house.

"Have some lemonade." Mom demands, motioning to the tray on the table next to the swing.

"Thank you." I say, sipping the cold liquid. I squeeze my face together when my taste buds recognize the sour flavor.

"I haven't gotten a chance to welcome them to the neighborhood," my mother begins."But we can welcome them with dinner tonight."

"What?!" I ask, spitting the lemonade over the rail. My mother scowls and scoffs in disgust.

"Paige! Where are your manners?" she demands.

"Which manners? The ones you were never here to teach me?" I say spitefully, instantly regretting it. Her scowl turns into soft wrinkles.

"Do as I said. Invite them over for dinner. I've taken the night off." she frowns and shakes her head before walking back into the house. Great. Now I feel like shit and I have to invite over some British guy and whoever is staying with him.

"I thought my stereo was loud." Kent yells from his porch. He gives a friendly wave.

"I'm sorry. Were we yelling?" I say, unconcerned. He seems annoying.

"My mother wants you over for dinner. She wants to give you a proper welcome." I tell him, making air quotations when I say 'proper'.

"That is very kind of her. Consider it a date." Kent takes his bottom lip between his teeth. I turn up my nose in disgust.

"Consider it not a date. This wasn't my idea." I deadpan. I grab my book from the table and head towards my front door.

"Be there at 6." I tell him.

"I'll see you at 6. My new favorite time of day." he says. I can't see him, but I see his foolish smile in my head. Today is off to a great start. A horrible family breakfast, argument with my mother, and now dinner with some British neighbor who is too flirty.

"Paige!" my mother calls from the dining room.

"Yes?" I say appearing at her side. She smooths the white table cloth.

"I need new candle holders. You're crafty." she says. I squint my eyes, pretending that I don't know what she wants.

"I'm crafty. What's your point?" I need you to make some candle holders. I see it on her face, but she can't let go of her pride and just ask.

"Figure it out Paige. You're smart too." she says, setting out the forks.

"I don't think I want to figure it out." I say, walking towards the stairs.

"It'll make a nice blog post." my mother yells from downstairs. She still reads my posts? I can see her victory smile, she still has her pride without asking for what she wanted.
******
"Inhaling spray paint isn't quite healthy." Kent appears in my garage where I'm working on the candle holders.

"Getting punched in the face for your unwanted opinion isn't healthy either." I tell him. He laughs.

"You have a bit of hatred for me don't you?" he kneels down next to me.

"No, hate is a strong word. I dislike you with a passion." I whisper. He takes my camera in his hands. Pointing the lens at himself, he bites his lip and snaps a picture.

"How childish can you get?" I ask, snatching the camera from his hands. He frowns at his loss.

"What are you making here?" he points to the glass jars that I'm splattering with gold paint. I debate on whether I should tell him about my blog.

"Candle holders for my blog entry. Any more questions?" I ask. He holds up his hands in defeat.

"What do you have against me, sweet Paige?" Kent's voice becomes soft.

"Well for starters we've known each other for less than twenty-four hours and you've interrupted my reading, ruined my night, and now you're here bothering me." I say, regretting my speech again. Damn Paige, you've got to work on the kindness thing.

Kent continues smiling as if I never said anything.

"Well you'll have to let me make that up to you, won't you?" he whispers into my ear, his breath traveling down my neck and sending goose bumps down my spine. To make matters worse, his cologne floods my nostrils a second time.

"I need to take these inside." I say, snapping the last picture of the candle holders.

"I'll help you." Kent insists. I turn my head side ways.

"Your British accent is the only reason I'm talking to you." I say.

"Swedish. I'm from Sweden." He says.

"I think I can do it on my own. Thank you." I deadpan.

"Paige. There's four candle holders. You have two hands and I have two hands. Two times two equals four." he rambles. His accent is cute if I had to pick one thing I liked about him.

"Basic math. Great job, Kent." I say grabbing two candle holders and going to the door.

"Are you coming or what?" I ask holding the door open.

"Oh," Kent picks up the two glass jars and follows me inside. I lead him to the dining room.

"Just set them down," I tell him. "Right here?" I motion to the buffet table.

"Alright." Kent brushes his hands together.

"Thank you." I exhale. My mother comes in with yet another new outfit on.

"Paige, would you like to introduce me to your friend?" my mother asks. I don't want to, but I know I have no choice.

"Not really, but this is Kent. He's British." I tell her. She extends her hand to him.

"Swedish," he corrects."Kent Bainbridge." he shakes her hand.

"Susan Aberdeen." my mother says. She glances over at the candle holders.

"Do you like them?" I ask, pointing to the candle holders.

"Do I like them? I love them! I like the rope you tied around them. The gold paint goes well with the blue color scheme." she pats my back. I secretly give myself a brownie point with my mother.

"Well Kent, you're welcome to stay for dinner with our new neighbor." my mother says kindly.

"I am the new neighbor." he laughs.

"Very well, make yourself at home Kent." she offers.

"Thank you Mrs. Aberdeen." he replies. She wrinkles her eyebrows.

"Please, call me Susan." she says. What a cliché Mom.