ღ Finding Cinderella- 4 ღ
-Kylie-
"Tristan, you are the worst!" I yelled at the top of my lungs as he carried me through yet another parking lot.
I had refused to leave the car the minute I'd seen the Runaway Shoppe, but Tristan had overpowered me once again, tossing me over his shoulder without breaking a sweat. The store was exactly the kind of place I hated so whatever Tristan was planning to do there, it couldn't have been good.
When we stepped through the glass doors, though, I was stunned. The shop was so colossal; a Ferris wheel would've fit inside without a problem. Everything around looked so exquisite. The pink room we had entered contained a front desk, makeup displays, couture dresses, and accessory racks, along with a variety of other luxury items that I couldn't even begin to count. If I hadn't known any better, I would've easily mistaken this place for a mansion.
Tristan immediately dropped me on a pink squishy couch, leaving me to bounce off the hard part in the middle. Damn, my butt hurt! I had probably already broken twenty bones today because of his terrible manners.
"Tristan, I hate you," I muttered, gritting my teeth, "I hate you to the moon and back. You always make me feel like doing a roundhouse kick to your face." Pushing myself off the couch, I tried to make a break for it, but he just stepped in front of me in one sudden movement.
My eyes flashed. "Oh, for fuck's sake—"
"Stay here and keep quiet," he cut me off with a straight face, "or else I'll have to find a leash."
"What do you think I am, a freaking canine?" I shouted, making some of the customers look at me in shock. My face heated up, not with embarrassment, but with fury.
Tristan was about to reply when a woman seemingly in her forties emerged from the back of the store, calling his name in surprise. She was clad in a well-designed floral dress as if she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. I was a little confused until I realized she was probably the Runaway Shoppe's manager.
Oh yeah, Tristan was freaking rich—how could I have forgotten? His dad was a well-known engineer with affiliates practically everywhere, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had connections with the Yakuza.
"Tristan, welcome!" the dark-haired woman said, giving him a hug that he returned easily. "It's been a while..." she trailed off as her cat-like eyes noticed me. Then she smiled. "Oh, you brought a girlfriend, I see."
Hoo boy. Why did it always have to be like this? Whenever we went places together, people always saw us as a couple. How could they misinterpret such total enemies as star-crossed lovers? This was why I absolutely hated being around Tristan. Anything to do with him meant headaches, headaches, and more headaches.
Sinking down into the couch, I crossed my arms and sighed with impatience.
Meanwhile, Tristan was snickering as he shook his head. "No, Morgan, she's just a friend." He threw a cocky grin at me, and I scowled.
Morgan nodded. "Oh, all right. Well, what can I help you with? Is there anything you're looking for?"
"Do you have a ball gown that would be good on her?" Tristan asked, jabbing his thumb at me. "We need one that's super exclusive."
My eyes widened, and in a low voice, I said, "What?"
"Of course!" Morgan said. "We just received a batch of uniquely designed dresses from Paris and the UK. Wait just a moment, please, and we'll go get them." She clapped in the direction of some female assistants on the side, and they quickly strode into the next room, where I bet all the designer clothes were on display.
In the meantime, my eyes darted straight to the back of the jerk's head, and I gave him the worst glare I could muster. "What the hell, Tristan?" I grumbled. "Why are you picking out a dress for me?"
"Kylie, behave," he said, not even bothering to turn around. "And don't worry, I'll be the one paying. I'm only doing this to make you smile for a change," he added, looking back to give me a wink.
Oh God, somebody please restrain me from stabbing him with a pen.
"Shut up," I said. "Don't you dare try to use your charm on me either because we both know it'll never work. I want to get out of here. Now."
He sneered. "Aww, but don't you want a present? Plenty of girls would die to be honored like this, you know?"
"You think I give a shit?" I scoffed. "Anyway, if you're only doing this so I can go to the Valentine Ball with you, then no thank you"—I held up a hand—"because I'm refusing your offer."
"Wow. So you figured it out that quickly, huh?" he replied. "Don't think I'm asking you out, Kylie, because that'll never happen in a million years."
I snorted. "Yeah, like I didn't know that."
"I'm sure you did know that, but see, I'm not asking you. I'm forcing you to go out with me... though I do know I'm hard to resist."
I rolled my eyes. Had Tristan been trying to imitate Johnny Bravo right there? If so, then he'd succeeded in making me even more furious. What a conceited, evil, overconfident jerk! I was probably the only person who could even match up to his attitude.
"Don't waste your precious efforts, Tristan," I said with an exasperated sigh. This argument was just plain stupid. "No matter what you do, you can't make me attend the Ball, with or without you. Why exactly are you doing this?"
"I need you to do something for me during the event."
"Oh, really? Well, sad to say, I refuse to accept any job offers from you starting this day. Period."
"Kylie—"
"I said I'm not going, dammit."
"Fine." He jammed his hand into his pocket. "Guess I'll have to ask your mom for permission. I bet she can make her child go out with me."
"Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a brat!" I said.
He proceeded to take out his phone and began tapping the screen. I only rolled my eyes again.
Yeah, go on, Tristan, like I'd actually believe you'd dial my mom's phone number—
"Hello, Mrs. Harris? Yeah, it's me, Tristan. Look—"
Then I could hear a tiny noise coming from the phone—my own mother's voice.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
I lunged at him in a rush, grabbing the phone from his hand and running for my dear life out the door of the Runaway Shoppe. I didn't know where I was heading, and everything was a blur as I sped down the sidewalk. Suddenly, I heard a faint sound escape from my phone. I held it up, surprised.
Crap, it was still connected to Mom!
"H-hey, Mom!" I answered shakily, trying to make room for speech between my heavy breaths. There was music blaring through the phone, and I guess she was having her yoga lecture.
"Kylie? Oh, so you're hanging out with Tristan," she said. "Are you two all right? Is there an emergency?"
Yes, Mom, yes! I'd been in a life-or-death emergency all afternoon. In fact, I was running like hell to escape the clutches of evil!
Tristan's voice echoed through the crowd, and when I looked back, I saw him dashing toward me at top speed, his sharp gaze enough to slice me into pieces. My steps doubled, and I thanked God for my long legs. I was practically running like a cheetah, and with that extra boost of speed, I managed to blend in with the huge mob of people, knowing Tristan would have a hard time finding me now.
"Honey, is everything all right?" asked Mom. "Where are you? You sound like you're... running?"
"Huh? Oh, ha-ha, yeah, everything's perfectly fine. Tristan and I are just doing the Amazing Race, that's all." Oh, and did I forget to mention that I was a fantastic liar?
At long last, one of my few talents was actually coming in handy.
"You're doing wha—"
"The Amazing Race! Haven't you heard of it? It's all the rage nowadays! Anyway, I gotta go now. See you later!" And with that, I hung up.
I knew it was rude to cut off someone while they were talking but, to be honest, I had no choice. After all, I didn't need Mom bombarding me with questions about this whole monkey business. If I told her the entire story, she'd probably just side with Tristan because she loved him so much.
Darn, why did my family have to be so close to Tristan's?
My breath came out in short gasps as I ran another length of the sidewalk. I figured I had already lost myself mid-city, but I didn't care. As long as I was away from the evil prince, I would be all right. When I looked back, though, Tristan was nowhere to be found, and I gave a chuckle of satisfaction. After all this running, he'd finally given up on me.
My face slammed into something solid as I rounded a corner. I toppled over, smacking my butt on the ground. I felt a shock of soreness traveling through my body, from my nose to my rear, and I wondered for the umpteenth time what I had done to deserve this crappy day. Why was I experiencing every torture strategy in the book?
Never mind what I had said earlier. This was why I hated Valentine's Day.
"Ah, shit. Sorry," said a deep voice, which startled me. "Are you okay? Are you able to stand up?"
A hand appeared, offering to help me to my feet. When I looked up, I saw a tall guy with chocolate-brown hair, hunching over. He was dressed in all black. Black jeans. Black shirt. Black leather jacket. And he was wearing Ray Bans so I couldn't see his eyes too clearly.
I took his hand, and he pulled me up in a swift move. Whoa, his hands were so soft and smooth, just like a baby's butt... and he smelled nice, too.
"Are you hurt?" he asked. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."
"Err, no," I said. "It's entirely my fault. I should be the one apologizing, but thanks, anyway," I added, smiling and giving him an awkward thumbs-up. Great, with my disheveled appearance, this guy probably thought I was always this awful-looking, what with my tangled hair, sweaty face, and possibly broken nose.
But he just grinned. "You haven't changed a bit," he said thoughtfully. "I'm glad you're still the Kylie Harris I knew."
The smile on my lips froze. Wait—how did he know me? Had I just found myself a stalker?
"Uh, do I know you?" I asked cautiously, heart burning with part exhaustion, part anxiety.
"What, you've already forgotten about me?" He chuckled. "Well, I'm not surprised..."
He took off his glasses, and my mouth practically hit the ground. Oh no, he was hot. Bright blue eyes. Freckles that didn't look bad on his face. With all my bad luck that day, it was a miracle I'd found a good-looking dude who was also nice.
But then my eyebrows furrowed. He seemed strangely familiar...
"It's me, Erik Taylor. Remember?"
The moment he stated his name, my face grew hot. My thoughts went wild, like really wild. All of them were overwhelmingly cliché and frustratingly random, but they were screaming the same words: "OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod! Retreat! Retreat!"
Oh, by the beard of Zeus, why did this have to happen to me now?
I couldn't believe it, but he was right there in front of me. Erik, the guy I had a crush on ages ago, and Erik, the guy who had broken my heart for the first time.