I believe in love at first sight...
But it's not the first moment you lay eyes on a person, it's the moment you first see the person they truly are.
~Ranata Suzuki
A/N
Any guesses on whose a Taurus?
Chapter 9
Ryder's POV
"You have a girl coming over to your place for a sleepover," Mateo repeated for the hundredth time.
"I am aware." I set the phone down on the counter, putting Mateo on speaker phone while I shuffled my homework back into my backpack, trying to clean up the mess I had managed to create in the last half hour of trying to study before Mateo was bugging me.
The maid had thankfully cleaned up the remnants of my sister's last escapade, which left the entire house in ruins. I almost felt bad for Azariah, the maid, but mother paid her enough money that she could retire in a few years.
"What are you gonna do?"
I raised my eyebrow despite the fact that Mateo could not see me. We could be FaceTiming right now if Mateo didn't refuse to give up his android. "Normal stuff? It's just Beatrice."
He clearly was not seeing my point. "Just Beatrice? You mean the girl you're supposedly trying to get to fall in love with you."
"Look, I'm just trying to make Tanaka mad. I just need to show Beatrice a good enough time that it drives Tanaka completely insane."
Mateo groaned. "Please don't tell me you're planning to..." he trailed off, not finishing my sentence.
I rolled my eyes. "Dear goodness, Mateo, I am not going to try to seduce her if that's what you're implying."
"Well I'm aware of that," he scoffed. "You only have meaningless sex when your mom upsets you, and last time I checked your mother is away on business."
"Exactly." Beatrice was safe from my cruel ways, as most would put it, as long as my mother is nowhere near me.
Mateo continued, "And don't roll your eyes at me!"
How did he—
"I did not—"
He didn't even let me finish my sentence. "Oh bull, I heard it."
He has to be joking. "You heard me roll my eyes?"
He spoke with the utmost confidence. "Yes."
I don't even want to know. I crumpled up my papers, tossing them at the bottom of my bag, knowing full well I was going to have to reorganize them later.
Mateo reverted the subject. "Alright, back to the girl—"
"The girl?" And I thought I was the one who was bad with names.
"I am aware her name is Beatrice but that's beside the point." I could only imagine the hand gestures he was using right now. Mateo always talked with his hands, especially if he got invested in something and by the tone of his voice right now, his hands are getting a workout. "You need to make tonight memorable."
Memorable? What does he want me to do: lay out a path of roses around the house, light a few candles, tell her how pretty she is? He tried all that with Maria and it clearly didn't work. I don't think he's the best guy to be taking relationship advice from considering the girl he's 'in love with' hates his guts.
"And what are you suggesting?"
I swear I'm hanging up if he suggests any of that sappy romance stuff like you see in the movies.
He didn't miss a beat. "You should make her your ratatouille."
I chuckled, knowing full well why he wanted me to do that. "You just want me to make her ratatouille so that you can eat the leftovers."
"Good to know we're on the same page."
Weirdo. I sighed. "Ratatouille it is."
Mateo had some odd obsession with ratatouille ever since we watched the movie. I've made it about a hundred times just so he can devour the whole pan by himself.
I made my way into the kitchen, the house completely silent considering I was the only one home. Where in the world my sister, Alexia, was, I had no clue. If people thought I was a player, Alexia was worse. Unlike me, Alexia slept around for the fun of it and not just when she didn't want to deal with her feelings. I swear she's never home anymore. Her bed hasn't been slept in in weeks.
I knew way more about her sex life than I ever wanted to but considering I was always the one who had to cover for her when Malik, our step father, asked about her whereabouts, it came with the job description.
"If that stuff doesn't make her fall in love with you immediately, then I don't know what will." Mateo joked.
"Ah yes, ratatouille: the secret to love."
"Finally, you're understanding." His voice trailed off. "Maybe I should give Maria some of your ratatouille."
I could hear Mamá Garcia shout on the other end of the phone before I could comment on his last remark. "Mateo Juvernón Garcia!"
I withheld my laughter at the use of Mateo's full name. I could still hear kids in the playground singing that stupid chant after they found out Mateo's middle name: 'Juvernón es un huevón'. I like to thank it for our friendship.
Mateo and I have been best friends ever since first grade after we landed ourselves in the principal's office together. Some kids were making fun of him with that dumb chant and I ended up trying to be a hero, getting my ass handed to me. But despite the fact that Mateo and I were the ones bleeding in various places, they sent the two of us to the office together.
My dad had never looked so proud of me.
Mateo cursed, shuffling around quickly. "Mate, I got to go."
I didn't even get a chance to reply before the call was ended. Someone's in trouble.
I continued cutting the vegetables, my mind getting lost in the process and before I knew it the dish was coming out of the oven and the doorbell was ringing.
I opened the door to find a very sluggish Beatrice standing on the other side. Her hair had been messily tossed up, she'd been decked out in sweats, and, at the moment, her eyes were barely open.
She gave me a half smile, taking another sip of the Red Bull resting in her hand as she nodded in a form of a greeting.
She looks like she got hit by a bus.
I had never seen one person look so tired and dead inside and yet here she was looking like a walking corpse. "Well someone's happy to see me," I teased, stepping aside and letting her in.
"That's just the three Red Bull's talking, don't get your hopes up." She patted my chest, making her way inside.
I stared at her in disbelief. "Three Red Bull's?"
She ignored my question, walking towards the kitchen. "I smell food."
I shut the front door, following behind her as she sniffed out the source of the smell.
"Here, I can set your bag in my room," I offered, taking the backpack from her hand.
She gave me a quick thank you, wandering around my kitchen, exploring her new surroundings like a lost puppy dog.
I was used to this kind of thing, everyone did it when they first came over, whether they were my friends, Alexia's friends or one of my mother's work partners, everyone was fascinated by the size of our house. It was far too big for four people, but everytime I make that point my mother goes on a long rant about how the house was supposed to be meant for five. And ignoring the fact that I was never going to live with Kavinski under any circumstances, this house is still too big for five. She thinks having Kavinski live with her instead of his father would magically shrink this place by a hundred acres.
Alexia spent months begging for mother to downgrade and get a smaller place. I had tried a couple times to convince her but the conversation usually ended in a 'why can't you be more like Kavinski' so, needless to say, I've given up. As lonely as this house is, the shot at a smaller place is not worth hearing that.
Alexia even tried to get Malik to convince mother to move but he was no help. He never is. Mother won't listen to a single thing he says. I'm fairly certain he only stays with her because he knows full well that if he leaves, mother will never let Alexia see him again.
I set her bag beside my bed, my eyes landing on the picture frame beside my nightstand, which I must have forgotten to put away. I knocked the picture down quickly, so fast I'm surprised the glass didn't shatter.
I headed back to the kitchen, leaving the miserable frame in my wake.
Instead of looking around, like most people usually did, Beatrice seemed to have no interest in the house and had already sat on a stool with her head laying on her book as she used it as a pillow. Her cheek was squished against the hardcover, her whole face wrinkled up like pudgy shar pei.
"Morning, sunshine," I laughed.
She groaned and, without even opening her eyes, attempted to reach out for me. Her hand landed on my face as she quickly inspected it to make sure it was truly my face and then proceeded to slap me. Clearly she was too tired to even try to actually slap me considering her hand barely made contact with my skin before flopping back down to her side.
"Is there a reason you've drank four Red Bulls?" I questioned, pulling two glasses from the cabinet.
"I didn't sleep much." She readjusted her book for more comfort.
I poured water into each glass. "Let me guess, you stayed up all night reading?" I figured considering the book she was carrying around today was not the same one she started yesterday.
She paused, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the back door. I took a drink, watching her as she took a deep breath, her face quickly morphing from her distant stare to a look I'd seen far too many times. But as awful as that look is, it was better than the one she'd had prior. She smirked, looking me up and down. "I was having hot sex with the mafia boss while he held a gun to my head and begged me to moan his name."
What did she say?
I never thought the spit takes in movies were realistic but now I have to reevaluate that decision because at the moment I was leaned over the sink with water dripping out of my nose and Beatrice sat on the floor giggling her head off, clearly pleased with herself.
Her and red bulls clearly don't mix.
"Yes I was reading," she managed to get out, as soon as she finished wheezing.
I wiped my face, finally settling my coughing fit, although my eyes were now watering from the fact that I just had water come up my nose. Not a pleasant feeling. "About a mafia boss holding a gun to your head?"
Her lips curved up as she sat back on the stool. "Hm, no, just about hot sex, the mafia boss was just my imagination."
And I thought readers were supposed to be innocent.
"Man, gorgeous, I don't think I can compete with a mafia boss. I should just give up now." I attempted to come back from the fact that she just managed to get me to take a spit take.
"You should just quit now, pretty boy, and declare me the winner."
My eyebrow raised. "In your dreams."
She grinned, "Don't worry, you will be."
My mouth fell open. That was smoother than most of my lines. I tended to the ratatouille, ignoring her, mostly because I wasn't sure of how to respond to that. Thankfully she was too high off Red Bull to even notice.
"Did you make that?"
I jumped, not expecting her to be so close as she suddenly popped up by my side, staring at the food. She really shouldn't scare the guy holding a hot pan.
I nodded. "Yeah, you want some?"
"It smells really good." She took a long sniff of it, sighing in delight.
I smiled at the sight, grabbing two plates.
"Here, I can make you a plate."
She shook her head, her mouth practically watering at the sight of the dish. "I wish. I'm allergic to tomatoes, so I can't. Although, that almost smells good enough to risk my life just to eat it. Quite tempting"
My face fell. Great. Mateo had one job. I know how to cook a hundred dishes that don't include tomatoes and he picks one of the few that do.
I bet he did this on purpose, so he can eat more himself.
"Okay, well, um-" I glanced around the kitchen, trying to figure out what I could make her instead that wouldn't take too long. "What else do you like?"
"I'm not picky; ramen, hot pockets, taquitos. I live with two boys and between the three of us, not a single one can cook, so I'm really not picky." She laughed, taking another swig of her drink.
I'm fairly certain I'd die if I had to live off ramen, hot pockets, and taquitos. "What's a hot pocket?" I questioned.
Her mouth fell open. "You've never had a hot pocket?" She practically shouted.
"No?" I hadn't even heard of one of those things, though they didn't sound appetizing, so maybe that's a good thing.
"That is a crime. I'm making you eat a hot pocket."
And before I knew it she was dragging me to the store to get an infamous hot pocket, which turned out to just be ham and cheese wrapped in dough, which I could have easily made at home within a few minutes.
The microwave beeped as she pulled out her own meal—if you could even call it that. She'd insisted we buy paper plates as well to 'get the full experience'. I can't remember the last time I ate something on a paper plate.
"Ready?" She asked, taking a sip of her one dollar coffee.
I'd offered to make her coffee myself but she'd insisted on dollar coffee instead, claiming that 'fancy French pressed coffee' would ruin the adventure of the hot pocket. What did I get myself into?
I led her to my room, opening the door for her. She wandered around, examining this room more carefully than she had any other room in the house. While she hadn't been interested in the rest of the house, she seemed fascinated by my room. Mine and Alexia's rooms were the only rooms in the house that didn't look like they were professionally designed by an interior designer, probably because they were the only two that hadn't been.
She finished her exploration, promptly flopping down on my bed, the bedding engulfing her. "You sleep with a lot of pillows," she commented.
"Yeah." Mateo made fun of me for it all the time. He claimed it was because I was 'lonely'. It most certainly was not. I just like pillows.
I grabbed some of said pillows, tossing them on the floor to make myself a spot. She watched my every move silently.
"You know, you don't actually have to sit on the floor right?"
My eyebrows shot up. "And risk having your brother castrate me? No thank you. I'll take my chances on the floor."
She rolled her eyes. "He's not going to castrate you."
Clearly, she did not hear that guy's threat because he most certainly seemed like he wanted to. I was not taking my chances.
"Hey, I'm surprised he even let me sleep in the same house as you, let alone the same room."
She pursed her lips, nodding in agreement. "Yeah..."
That really doesn't help. That really really doesn't help.
I sat on the floor, scooting further away from the bed, where she'd already bundled herself in the blanket I'd set on there for her. Maybe if I sit far enough away, her brother will let me live.
She flicked on a movie, after spending a good five minutes trying to figure out how to work my tv remote.
"Okay, I wanna watch you try it!" She sat up from her spot.
"You want to watch me try it?" I glanced from the hot pocket to her.
"Yes! This is a very big moment in your life, pretty boy."
I laughed, shaking my head as I stared at the so-called hot pocket in my hand. I hesitantly took a bite, the synthetic cheese filling my mouth. I cringed, forcing myself to chew it. I practically swallowed it whole, trying to get it out of my mouth as quickly as possible.
This is quite possibly the worst thing I've ever eaten. I can taste the artificial flavor.
"What do you think?" She was practically bouncing in excitement, her smile stretching from ear to ear, her eyes lit up.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, waiting for my reply.
I may be a horrible person but I was not going to be the one to ruin her excitement. "It's pretty good," I committed myself to eating the rest of it.
Her smile widened—how: I have no clue. "I told you! They're amazing."
I practically had to swallow the thing whole just to get it down.
She didn't speak for the majority of the movie, or perhaps she did and I just couldn't hear her from the sheer volume of the television. We had lost the remote somewhere along the line and now neither of us can turn it down.
She turned, looking me up and down before tilting her head in confusion. "Where's your blanket?"
"I don't use blankets." I answered, still watching the movie.
"You don't sleep with a blanket on?" She stared in disbelief.
"No."
"Then how do you cover your feet?"
This got my attention. "I don't?"
"Well, what do you do about the monsters?"
I couldn't tell if she was serious. "You still believe in monsters?"
She looked at me like I had just asked her if gravity was fake. "No, but I mean when you were a kid. What did you do about the monsters when you were a kid?"
"I didn't believe in monsters."
"Well didn't you feel safer with a blanket covering your feet?"
I laughed. "No, I mean it's not like a monster is going to run up to your bed and be like 'ah man, her feet are covered' and slither back to its hiding place. What is a blanket going to do?" I'm fairly certain if there were monsters, they could rip that blanket off pretty easily.
"It just makes you feel more protected. Only psychopaths sleep without a blanket," she informed me.
"Then I guess I'm a psychopath, because I get hot at night."
She shook her head, getting up from the bed before grabbing her jacket off the chair. I watched as she crawled over to me, promptly draping the jacket over my feet.
Did she really just cover my feet?
"What are you doing?" I struggle to contain my amusement.
"I'm trying to keep the gremlins from stealing your toes, Ryder. You should be thanking me—" she paused— "psychopath."
I grinned, tossing my hand up. "What is so wrong about sleeping without a blanket?"
"Psychopath!" She yelled, crawling back to her spot where she bundled herself in her blanket like a burrito. "Goodnight, psychopath."
"You're the one who has to sleep in the same room as the psychopath."
A/N
Hi lovies!
I hate how long it's taking me to get chapters out to you all. I've had way to much stuff to do lately and I miss writing :(
But anyway, how did we feel about this chapter? Did it have too much fluff? And please comment, I love seeing all your guys comments, they're honestly the best part of my day.
What's been your favorite of this book so far?
Also I hope you all are having a great summer and a great fourth if you celebrated.
Lots of love,
Rachelle <3