Page 20 of Waiting Forever
9
Kensington
I TIPTOE AWAY from the closed door on the second floor.Forgoing the grand staircase, Icontinue back the way I came to the stairwell at the end of the hall.
Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I race to my room and lock myself inside. My heart pounds, and my stomach rolls.
I shouldn’t have followed the thumping sound. I thought Nathan or someone might be trapped in a room and they were knocking for help. Never, not for one second, did I think it was his bed thumping the wall while he plowed into his girlfriend and she screamed his name.
What the hell? Is he trying to torture me? How about the fact that I’m a new guest and it’s rude to pound his girlfriend while I’m beneath him? My room is directly below his.
Rage blasts through me. I march to the bed and throw the pillows onto the floor, leaving the pretty comforter in place. Next, I do the same to the couch. Pillows lay scattered around the room. My frustration has simmered a little but not enough for me to stay here. I grab my phone, my money and ID in the case cover, and stalk to the French doors. Like Nathan mentioned, the gate leads to a fenced-in area. The yard is shaded over here, with the sun on the other side of the house. A padlock secures the second gate, which really sucks because, from what I can see, it leads to the driveway and front of the house.
I’d try climbing the gate to escape, but the wooden structure has sharp pointed edges on top, as well as the rest of the fencing on this part of the yard.
Weird and freaking inconvenient.
I stomp back to my room, my frustration and anger returning to an unbearable level.
Bang, bang, bangsounds above me.
“Seriously?” I shout to the ceiling.
Storming out of my room, I race to the grand foyer in record time for a house this size and let myself out, making sure to slam the front door behind me.
I squint against the bright afternoon light and curse myself for leaving my sunglasses in my bag. By the time I reach the end of the long driveway, a bead of sweat has formed above my lip. The weather isn’t the reason. If anything, the temperature has dropped since I arrived. I wouldn’t say it’s cold, but it’s certainly not hot. No, this sweat is anger related.
I turn right and am forced onto the street. There are no sidewalks? I guess I missed that on the drive here. My hair hangs thick and heavy down my back. I pull it over one shoulder to get it off my neck.
Where am I going? I bring up the GPS on my phone. According to Google Maps, I can walk to Ryland in six minutes or to a Starbucks on Park Avenue in seven.
Check out my new college campus or get my favorite hot chai tea latte? With the heat factor I have going on right now, I should make it anicedlatte. Starbucks it is. Once I have my iced drink, I can continue my journey to Ryland if I feel the need to explore.
With that settled, I follow the path on my GPS and try to push Nathan from my mind. Did he hear me slam the front door? Does he even know I’m gone?
Ugh.I press my fingers to my temples.Quit thinking about him.
I let out a breath and focus on the houses. Large oak trees shade the roads with arched branches and hanging moss. The area reminds me of Savannah, Georgia. I love it there. Mom and I tried to talk Dad into opening a security office in the picturesque town, so we could have more reasons to visit. Apparently, Savannah doesn’t have the right type of business Dad and Uncle Bryce need to open a satellite branch.
I make a left, following the GPS. The lots seem to be getting smaller. Not that they’re small; they just aren’t as large as Nathan’s. The houses vary in style: Spanish, cottage bungalow, colonial, and modern. Some are old and dated on the exterior, but what the houses lack on the outside the neighborhood makes up for.
Where I used to live in Dallas, all the houses and lots are massive and the trees sparse. New ones were planted when the development was built but it’ll be decades before they’re like these, if ever.
I follow the road as it curves and pass more houses. The lots get bigger again and then I’m near the historical downtown Winter Park. Fancy apartment complexes, quaint churches, cafés, and boutiques line brick roads.
I had studied the area before moving here. It looks just like the pictures I found on Google. Like the set of a Hallmark movie. I make my way over two more blocks and am on the popular South Park Avenue. People, young and old, stroll along the sidewalks, popping in and out of stores, and crossing the car-lined streets.
I take in the charming town and feel my lips tug at the corners with a smile. I like it and could see myself spending lots of time here. In fact, so far, the only drawback about moving to Winter Park is Nathan and his sexual habits. Even if he weren’t dating Harper, I imagine it would be the samebanging—just with another girl.
Maybe I can make a new friend who happens to be looking for a roommate. Even if I could, Dad would never agree to let me move out of Nathan’s.
Ahead, the Starbucks sign catches my attention. I enter the crowded establishment and get in line. It moves faster than I expected and before I know it, a barista calls my name. I collect my iced chai tea latte and head for a bar-height counter lining the windows at the front of the store. Two barstools are vacant between a homely dressed girl reading a book, and a tall, very thin guy with white hair. I’m about to pull out the barstool next to the girl when she drops her purse on the seat.
To keep me from sitting down?
The white-haired guy shakes his head and lets out a soft laugh. He tugs out the stool next to him. “This seat is open if you want it.”
His features and eye color take me back for a moment. I don’t know what I expected his face to look like, but it wasn’t this. Black eyebrows frame piercing blue eyes. His features are model-perfect, a photographer’s dream. His full lips are a pretty shade of pink, his skin flawless and pale. Slightly grown-out dark roots let me know his hair color is bleached. But wow. He’s so uniquely beautiful.
