His Number

Chapter Four- Just Like Her

I hope this is long enough for yall! (: It's sorta a filler..

BUT. be sure to stick around!(: next chapter will..be interesting...how bout meeting with jerkface? (; working on it currently!

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ENJOY and do what you gotta do!~ (;

Ps. Please forgive any mistakes or errors made in this chapter!

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Chapter Four- Just Like Her

Charlotte Everley

I stared at the looming house in front of me.

It was regal. It was a classic, off white, color and with a wide, two door opening, four grand pillars, and shrubbery shaped to the leaf-it screamed prestige.

Or, in my words, rich. Very rich.

"You know," Stella says, snapping me out of my daze. "I'm starting to think that you love me too much to leave." Turning back to her, I see a lazy smile on her face. I laugh and apologize.

"I dunno why." She says, a thoughtful look on her face. "But you always seem to do that." A nonchalant expression pastes itself onto my face automatically.

"Do what?"

"Sit there and just.. stare at your house."

Shrugging, I get out and retrieve my sleepover things from the back of Stella's convertible. She follows me. Reaching for my pillow, she gets hold of it before me, forcing me to make eye contact with her.

"What?" I ask. Then I try to take the pillow from her hands. I'm successful.

But she just stands there, unmoving, and out of pure curiosity, I lifted my eyes to see her facial expression. It's a thoughtful one-like she's trying to figure out something.

Shrugging it off, I flash her one of my million watt smiles. She blinks.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She smiles, but it's hesitant. Then she nods.

"Like usual."

And then I turn around.

Taking a deep breath, I start walking, a hand on the strap of my tote, heading into the semi-dark house.

Hopefully my father wasn't still home.

Hopefully.

"Yes." I breathe out as I looked around. His study light wasn't on. Which could only mean one thing- he wasn't home. He rarely walked out of it; to the benefit of both mine and his.

"Hello Miss Everley," Jared, our butler, greeted. He was a middle aged man with an already balding head; his hairs styled and gelled to perfection. "How was your night at Miss O' Bryan's house?" He asks conversationally. I give him a small smile.

"It was good." He returns my smile, his eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"I believe Mary is waiting for you in the kitchen, Miss." My mood automatically brightens at the mention of our warm, grandmotherly chef. Setting my things on the side of the staircase, I scurry over to the kitchen. Reaching the doorway of the kitchen, I skid to a stop.