The White House

The White House- Chapter 10

“That’s good.” The conversation seemed to die into nothing but the pleasant hum of the jet engines. I was so tired that I felt like I was going to drop like rock any second, my eyelids being pulled together like Newton’s apple under the force of gravity.

It was a rough jolt of the plane that startled me, making my head snap up with awareness, my eyes roaming with animal like instincts for any danger.

“It’s okay,” a familiar voice cooed, making my head slump ungraciously back into the seat.

“That scared me,” I groaned, bringing up a free hand to wipe the sleepy dust from the corner of my eye.

“We are going to land soon, so it is probably a good thing you woke up. Not that I would have minded carrying you to the car, but that might have been awkward with bags, plus not to mention the fact you would have bitten my head off if I had.” Tom chuckled, shaking his head so that I had to focus my eyes in order to make out his features. Did I emphasise how built and good looking he was? Just to clarify. Kasper was hotter, it pains me to say, but Tom was broader, more physically fit. Kasper’s looks were more about his prominent jaw line and that diamond in the rough look, not too bulky, but not slim either. Tom on the other hand could never been given that ‘model’ status, he looked more like a rugby or football player who had endured countless tackles and blows to the face rather than a model. That was not to say that Kasper wasn’t strong, he enjoyed his sports as much as the next guy, but Tom could outclass Kasper in a fight any day.

“Too right I would have,” I scolded. “Good choice, I would have beaten you good and proper if you had.”

“I doubt that,” he smirked, reaching over to punch me lightly on the arm.

“Would not!” I chanted, bringing my own small fist to his stomach.

“Did you expect that to do anything, love?” he said in a fake Northern English accent, over-pronouncing the o in love.

“My mom is British, idiot. That was so bad, you sounded more Italian that English.”

“Whatever,” he snubbed, brushing my comment aside.

The jet landed smoothly at San Carlos Airport, the faint screech of the wheels signifying the slowing of the jet down the runway. It had been such a long day that relief consumed me. I was going to be able to curl up watch a movie and sleep. It was the most inviting thing I had ever heard.

Our trip out of departures was swift, only the quick collection of our bags, and those were handed to us personally. I felt like a million dollars strolling down the long hall, Tom at my side, as well as a new bodyguard who was to escort us to Tom’s room before leaving us on our own. I was looking forward to getting to know Tom. He was quiet at first, but I could tell that it wasn’t going to last, and we would be good friends in no time. He was already teasing me and laughing at my bad habits.

“So, you have any siblings?” I asked Tom as he stuffed our bags in the trunk of a rented shiny black Mercedes. We were to travel by car to Stanford, and then Tom was going to show me where he was staying. Apparently, considering classes started in a few days and it was already late at night we would not be shown around the university until tomorrow. In the meantime we would just arrive, be shown Tom’s room and then crash. Normally they would have been against Tom and I sharing a room for a night as that was against rules, but considering Kasper was involved we were overlooked as an exceptional case. That suited me just fine. I couldn’t be dealing with all the formalities anyways.

“Yes,” he called out, his head still buried deep in the midst of the unfamiliar blackness of the trunk.

“That’s cool, care to elaborate,” I called back sarcastically. I hated it when people answered in one syllable responses.