Nine: Annoying "Brother"
I sit in front of the dresser, eyes staring back at my own reflection as I try to apply some make up onto my face. Well, I know how to do some make up shit, but I rarely put some on a daily basis. Besides, I'm to lazy to clean them off at the end of the day.
Some lipstick and I’m done!
Wow, this looks pretty nice.
Guess what? All the make up I have here are enough to be put on 15 people’s faces or even more! I can’t imagine better thing than this.
I’m kidding. Food is the best thing that ever exist in this universe. But I’m so grateful Aunt Sarah bought me this. Or Mr. Warren, probably.
For whoever buying me this, I give you all of my thanks because, damn, I never have the money to buy these things. At the time I have the money, it would already spent on foods. Lot of it. And it usually sugary sweets and ice cream. Because those are life.
My motto in life: Food first, others later.
I walk towards my bed and fall onto it. I take my phone and check it for any messages. And there’s none of it, making my notifications as dead as a funeral. I guess no one has missed me yet.
“Sophie, can I get in?” Colton yells a little, knocking on the door a few times.
“Sophie is as fat as a cow.” He yells, probably with a smirk already plastered onto his face smugly. I roll my eyes at the thought and open my Instagram.
Who cares about your shitty words, Colton? Well, I’m not. Not anymore. I won’t let his words get into my head and mind ever again. I’m already invulnerable of his shitty words.
“Eek! Wrong!” I shout. The door swings open and he steps into the room casually.
“Hey! I say password so you have to say password!” I give him a glare, but it’s no use, his eyes already scanning the room as he continues to walk.
“I don’t even know the password for this hell.” He shrugs as a frown forming on his face, his eyes keeps wandering all over the room like he's searching for something.
If this is hell, why would you even come in dumbass? Trying to get yourself burned? Oh, I really do wish he burns.
I gasp a little as I fake a shocked look. “You don’t know? Ellie already knew it before I even told her.” He turns his body at me, his face turns puzzled within a second as he looks at me. “What is it then?”
“Password, of course.” I scoff at his foolishness, shaking my head a little as I stare back at my phone screen.
“What do you mean?” I turn my head and look at him in disbelief. His eyebrows already merge tightly as he stares back at me.
I can’t believe he didn’t understand it.
I keep looking at him boringly as he thinks about what did I mean, until the look of acknowledgement surfaces onto his face. “Oh, yeah, I get it.” I roll my eyes at him again, can’t believe I still talk to him right at this second, and look back to my phone, scrolling through the feeds with no interest.
He drops his body next to me and asks, “What are you doing?” as he stares at my phone screen curiously. I look at him weirdly as he keeps staring at my phone with curiosity.
Why does he act very weirdly? I bet he wants something from me. Because, he never act this nice to me.
“What do you want?” I squint my eyes at him, suspicious at his demeanor, but he just looks at me with a little smile on his face. “Nothing. Fangirling again?” He smirks.
It’s a lie if he doesn’t want something from me.
I heave a sigh, trying to keep my cool, and roll my eyes at him, already annoyed by his act. “Yes! So what?! It’s none of your business.”
I move further away from him and look at my phone again. But, my mood of fangirling already vanished since Colton acts like he gets possessed by a bitchy and chatty girl which I don't really like.
He sits straight up, looking at me with horror and confusion mixed on his face and says, “Chill, don’t PMS-ing on me.”
“I’m not PMS-ing.” I scowl at him, only to make him look more confused.
What the hell is happening with him and those confused faces of his?
“If you didn’t PMS-ing, then what’s wrong?” He stares at me with confusion, with his face scrunches up a little. I pull myself to sit, staring at him with anger burning inside me.
“What’s wrong is you suddenly act all nice to me!”
Doesn’t he even realized that he already makes me annoyed? I guess he’s too blind and foolish to notice it.
“I act nice toward you because I’m going to be your fake brother for the next few months. I don’t want to mess your job up. I want to help you.” His face turns into the look of despair as he explains his weird behavior. But I know it’s only one of his tricks to get what he want from me.
“You want something from me, aren’t you?” I stare at him suspiciously. But he just keeps his face looks as sad as before. “No, of course not.” He frowns a little, shaking his head once.
Why is it felt so weird when he act like this? It’s just feels very unusual. When he usually just ignore me fully, or pissing me off until he gets on my last nerve. And now is an entirely different thing.
He just keeps acting all nice to me, with that perfect smile he gives me. And when I mad at him, he just looks at me with confusion like he doesn’t even know what makes me mad when he just usually laugh mockingly at me. It’s just strange.
“Oh, how about I take you somewhere? I know it would be a good thing since I know you’re coming here a week earlier to get to know this place better.”
I let out a little sigh, giving up about me thinking this is another trick he's trying to get me fall into because maybe he is trying to make things up with me and be nice to me. “Okay. When?”
“Now.” He says shortly.
“Now?” I raise my eyebrows in confusion and he nods his head a few times. “Yes. Come on.” He grasps my hand gently and pull it with him, making me follow him. Wait, why do I even following him?
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, feeling pretty paranoid and a little frightened. He just smiles at me and keep pulling me with him. “You’ll know soon.”
We walk into the garage and woah, these cars here are so fucking cool and awesome. A Jeep Wrangler, I want one of it. I WANT ONE SO BADLY.
I keep walking right behind him and he points his finger at a white 911 Porsche. “That’s your car.”
Ooh, this is so much more than what I had expected.
We walk towards a white Ferrari, that I guess is a GTC4Lusso, close to the garage door, and he turns around, already grinning. “This is mine.”
God, I want his car too. It looks so fucking cool.
“Please come in.”
“Spill it already, I know you want something from me.” Without realizing, I already raise my cup full of hot liquids of coffee close to my lips, and sip it without thinking twice. I put the cup away from my lips quickly, hissing quietly as I my tongue burns by the hot liquid.
Shit. I bet Colton already laughing internally right now. Ha, enjoy your laugh for now because when we are back at home, I’ll punch your freaking face.
And ladies and gentlemen, that’s what you get when you pretended to act cool. So, don’t ever try to act and look cool at times, because you’re going to get what you deserve from doing that which is suck.
I put the cup down, still feeling my tongue burning slightly, and look at him. “No, Sophie. I don’t want anything from you but to say sorry.” He sighs, letting his stare falls down to his lap sadly. My head tilts unconsciously to the right and my lips turn into a pout as I keep staring at his face.
“I’m sorry I was evil to you. I just- I don’t know, that time I was feeling so satisfied when I did something mean to you. But I realized that's really hurting you, badly, in the past three years. Not just physically, but mentally too.
“Now, I just want to fix things up with you. For all of the things I’ve had done before. And now, I know that you have this job and have to stay with me, with my family. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable when you’re staying here, with us, because of me. So, I guess this is my chance to say my apology to you. Because I really am sorry and regret anything I’ve had done to you before.”
Wow, my ears feel weird after hearing those words comes out from one and only Colton Pemberton until the pit of my stomach churns. I sigh at his long sentence of apology.
“Okay, okay. I forgive you. And please don’t give me that look. You look like a fucking miserable old man." He looks up at me, chuckling a little as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“And I will forgive you as long as you don’t do things past my breaking point ever again. And remember, I’ll keep your words in mind.” His face, that was cloudy with gloom, turns bright as his face lifts up, like sun decided to shine at his face. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.” He smiles a little.
“Please don’t say nice thing like that. It makes me sick because you usually saying shit at me.” I sip my coffee again, more carefully because of my fright of getting my tongue burns again.
“I want to change, remember?” He smirks. I smile at him, for the first time ever, feeling what's going to happen between me and Colton in the future, going to be one of the best thing ever in my life. “Okay.”
Thank goodness he wants to change. Don’t know what would happen to me if he's still going to be the evil he always was before.
He drinks his coffee and put the cup down, staring at me with his chin rested on his clasped hands and says, “So, this job you got here, I knew it from mom and dad. But, can you tell me?”
I shake my head at his question and reply, “Sure. But not in here. Someone’s would heard about it and it could lead to something worse.”
Someone heard it, and I’ll die in a second.
“Are you being paranoid or...?” He trails at his words as he keeps eyeing me strangely. I roll my eyes at his expression and frown. “No, I’m not."
Am I, really? Yes. I am being paranoid. But it's because this is an important things that we're going to talk about. And if the wrong people heard the matter, it's going to go wrong for me.
"A bit, actually.” I pout. “Dad told me not to talk about thing like this in public.” Avoiding his weird stare, I look down at my coffee cup, holding it in my hands as the heat from it radiates to the palm of my hand, and I sigh at its warmness.
“Because there’s a chance his ‘people’ are here and would probably heard it. And they would probably kidnap me, or kill me. Probably you too.”
I shudder at the thought of someone killing me. Mercilessly with a sharp knife, a bullet to the head, or heart. Or probably all over my body, make me feel tortured until the death itself comes to me.
Or probably with some old ways. Like beating me up as they ask about who am I, my job, all of the details, until I answer those questions. With honesty, no lies. I probably not going to survive the beating before I reply those questions.
I don’t want to die. Not today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. Or next year. Or—
“Okay, let’s go back home then.”