The Trouble with Love

❝ and it hurts remembering ❞

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He maintained a stern expression but his green eyes had a teasing edge to them. That was another thing that separated Mr. Sullivan from the rest of the teachers- he wasn't scared of the Elite. Or, if he was, he didn't show it since he didn't give them a special treatment.

Vanessa shook her head. "We were just talking about our weekends plans."

I bit in a groan at the stifled gasps from around the room. Strike three. I had been seen with the Elite three times. First Jacen had called on me during class. Then Vanessa had shown up to class and sat beside me. And now we were apparently spending the weekend together.

"Ten more minutes Ms. Merrick, Ms. Evans. Then you can talk all you want," Mr. Sullivan said. We both nodded. When he went back to writing, I turned to look at Vanessa.

"I never said I could come!" I exclaimed, keeping my voice quiet.

"Elena," she said, biting her lip. She lowered her voice and shot a quick glance around the room. "When Jacen said you don't want find out what could happen if you don't play along... He wasn't kidding." There wasn't a threatening edge to her voice, Vanessa was too innocent for that. But something about the way she said it made me want to listen to her.

I nodded reluctantly.

Her face changed instantly. She grinned and clapped her hands together quietly, drawing some looks from the students around up. "Jacen will pick you up around six, alright?"

I nodded again and looked at the board, ending the conversation. She didn't seem to mind. As I turned to face the front, Jenna caught my eye. She shot me the same perplexing troubled look, then turned away. Me talking to the Elite meant something to her. Not curiosity or envy like the other students.

Something different.

♡ the trouble with love ♡

There was a man waiting at the front door when I got home. Or maybe not a man, since he didn't look much older than me. His dark hair was short, cropped close to his head. He wore black jeans and a white button down, a thick folder rested in his right hand. He also looked vaguely familiar, though I knew for sure I had never seen him before.

I got off my bike and approached him slowly, keeping an eye on my surroundings for any paparazzi. He didn't look like a reporter, but you know, looks can always be deceiving. "Who are you?"

"I work for Kaden," he replied, flashing a small smile.

"Can I verify that?"

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Kaden's cell, alternating between looking at the guy, my phone and around us.

"Hey Elena," Kaden answered. "We'll be home in half an hour, okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I glanced at the stranger who was texting on his phone, looking a little bored. "There's someone here for you."

No response from Kaden.

"He says he works for you," I tried again.

There was another beat of silence before Kaden finally replied. "What does he look like?"

"Dark brown hair, blue eyes, about six feet. Weird looking scar above his eyebrow," I said. The guy glanced up and shot me a scandalized look, pretending to be offended. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I know him. He's fine, you can let him in and we'll be back in a bit."

"Okay, see you soon." I hung up and moved my bike into the garage. "Looks like you're safe," I told him when I stepped back out. I unlocked the door and walked inside.