Irresistible

FIFTEEN

Caught up in the moment, Sage looks my way, a big smile on her face as we keep on singing. "And I got that red lip classic thing that you like," we yell out together, totally not sounding good but we don't care.

She's a swiftie too? Can she get any more perfect?

We finish the song without pausing for a breath, the melody filling the car until it's over.

"I didn't think you'd be a Swiftie," Sage remarks with a grin as we pull onto a secluded road.

"I didn't think you'd be one either," I reply, looking out the window. "Please don't tell me this is where you kill me," I joke.

Sage chuckles, raising an eyebrow playfully. "How did you know?" she teases, glancing at me sideways.

"I don't know, it's just quite convenient you're leading me down this quiet road."

Sage remains silent, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, which starts to unsettle me. "Sage?" I ask again, my voice tinged with concern.

"What the fuck?" I mutter under my breath, growing increasingly concerned.

"Sage!" I push her shoulder, and suddenly she breaks into laughter, catching me completely off guard.

"Oh my god, you should've seen your face," Sage says between fits of laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

I cross my arms and lean back in the seat, shooting her a glare. "You're not funny," I retort.

Sage just laughs, shaking her head. "Well, lucky for you, I'm not planning any murders today," she assures, her voice still laced with amusement.

With a gentle touch, she takes my hand, her fingers warm against mine, and brings it to her lips. "I'm sorry," she says softly, her gaze meeting mine with a hint of apology.

"Whatever," I huff in response, but as I meet her gaze, the corners of my lips twitch despite my efforts to stay stern. It's hard to stay mad at her when she looks at me like that.

Not long after, we turn a corner and are met with a large gated modern house.

My eyes widen in astonishment. "This is your house?" I ask incredulously, taking in the sleek design and imposing structure.

Sage hums affirmatively as she stops in front of the gate and rolls down her window, revealing a small card which she flashes at the machine. With a low hum, the black metal gates slowly swing open, granting us entry.

We pull into the 4-car garage where Sage has a few other cars—a G-Wagon, BMW, and Porsche.

I glance around, taking in the luxurious vehicles surrounding us. A house like this in New York City must cost an insane amount of money. I knew Sage was well-off, but not this well-off.

"Do you want to wait here or come inside? I'll be really quick," Sage says, unbuckling her seatbelt and casting a glance my way.

"Um, I'll come inside," I say, my curiosity getting the better of me, getting out of the car and following Sage as she heads through the garage.

As soon as we enter the house, I can't help but admire the grandeur of the foyer. My eyes are drawn to the two staircases leading up to the upstairs, their elegant curves and sleek design captivating me.

The atmosphere is modern yet incredibly cozy. The light wooden floors contrast beautifully with the bright white walls, giving the space an airy and inviting feel.

As an aspiring interior designer, I've seen my fair share of houses, but this one stands out as one of the prettiest I've encountered.

The attention to detail and the balance between modernity and warmth is truly impressive.

Suddenly, I'm bombarded by a big golden retriever pouncing on me.

"Bentley," Sage laughs, rushing over to pull the excited dog off of me. "I'm sorry, he gets really excited."

"It's okay," I giggle, feeling Bentley's furry coat as I bend down to his level. "Hi buddy," I say, scratching behind his ears.

"I'll be right back, please make yourself at home," Sage says, and I nod, watching her figure disappear up the stairs two at a time.

I walk further into the living room, which is an open floorplan with the kitchen. My eyes widen in awe at the sight before me.

A huge white leather sectional couch dominates the space, with a TV mounted in front of it. The room is also adorned with lots of plants and greenery.

Abstract art hangs on the walls, the same kind of art I have in my own apartment, adding a touch of personality to the space.

The kitchen's pretty spacious too, with white cabinets and marble countertops. There's a big island in the middle with a couple of barstools. I would die for this type of kitchen.

I sit down on the white couch, Bentley settling in front of me, his tail wagging excitedly. I stroke his soft fur absentmindedly as I take in the luxurious surroundings.

But then, like always, my mind starts to overthink.

I start to feel a little self conscious since I'm only 22, still in college, my parents still pay the rent for my apartment, I'm still getting established. I did grow up with money, but it was never mine, it was my parents.

And then there's Sage, with her own successful business, her own home, cars—the whole package. It's hard not to feel inadequate in comparison. She could have anyone she wants. So why me?

As I sit there, it hits me that Sage and I skipped over a lot of the typical getting-to-know-each-other part of a relationship.

I mean, how did I not know she was practically living like a Kardashian?

All the sneaking around and back-and-forth rejection didn't leave much room for sharing the little, meaningless details that nobody else knows. And now, I find myself yearning to know those things about Sage.

Even the small things, like her favorite color and her Starbucks order. I want to know it all.