“You won’t witness a crime, Trinity—”
I interrupt, “Fine. Then, they’re a bunch of rich people. Yay!” I keep my tone bored to add to thefuck thisvibe.
What are people this rich doing all the way out here anyway? I imagine them being in the city, in a mansion, with butlers and maids, having people drive them all around town. Not here, in a regular-sized house in the middle of nowhere.
Please, someone, get me out of here.
“Maybe they’re not bad. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
She always sees the good in everything. I always see the negative.
I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.
My legs feel heavier than they were before as I walk up their front porch steps. Mom’s hand rises and knocks on the wooden door three times. My heart rate quickens.
Please let it be an old lady, so I’m not forced to hang out with anyone. Please, please, please.
Here comes the anxiety.
I feel like I’m going to vomit. I hate meeting new people. I always get mini tornadoes in my stomach.
Breathe in and out. You’ll be fine.
What catches my breath when the door swings open is not my anxiety. It’s the sight of a drop-dead handsome guy.
Holy shit.
I’m finding it severely difficult to keep my mouth from dropping open. He’s the most striking guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life. We don’t have guys who look like this in our town. It makes me wonder what he’s doing here. He screams sarcastic, freaky, reserved, and somehow soft. He looks like a Greek sculpture, carved into perfection. Well-built curves show through his clothing. He’s brawny-looking but boyish at the same time. His jawline is razor-sharp, lips so rosy and plump, making me slightly jealous. Let’s not forget the small tattoos that linger on his long fingers.
A few strands of silky brown hair pop out from under a black beanie that lies over his head. If I take off that hat, I’ll be met with gorgeous, smooth hair. Black jeans fit his toned legs well. A gray sweatshirt with colorful graphics covers his torso. Under that hoodie, I know there’ll be a six-pack. And what makes him even more droolworthy—which I don’t know how that’s remotely possible—are the rings on his slim fingers.
Someone, catch me. I’m going to faint. He wears rings!
I’m trying to distract myself from the feeling of a thousand butterflies in my stomach, but it’s very hard when a literal superstar is standing in front of me, looking very confused.
“Can I help you?” his husky voice asks. He looks over at my mom in question. Even his voice is sexy, deep with a hint of rasp.
Mom extends her hand out to him, gripping his. He gives her a polite smile.
“Hi. We’re just stopping by to say hello to our new neighbors,” Mom explains, and he nods in understanding.
“So, you’re the other family who lives in the middle of nowhere,” he jokes, showcasing his beautiful dimples when he smiles.
God.
I know pink coats my cheeks when he glances over at me. His eyes open in shock slightly, but he quickly covers it up with a cough.
Did he just get affected by me? No way. A guy like that can’t like a girl like me.
“Would you like to come in?” he asks Mom, recovering from his shock. He pushes the door open wider, allowing Mom and me to see an elegant staircase.
Our house certainly doesn’t look like this. They must have had someone renovate it before they moved in.
See, they’rerich, rich.
“No, it’s okay. We don’t want to be a bother. We just wanted to stop by and say hello.” Mom waves her hand and takes a step back.
I follow her lead, but I don’t take my eyes off the guy.
