Be My Forever

ii | blast from the not-so-long-ago past.

Is it customary for a person to fall asleep in the backseat of a car belonging to a man who is basically a stranger to me while he drives you to his house because all of your worldly belongings and apartment were burned to a crisp?

I'm not sure, but I sure as heck do exactly that in John's car as we go to his house. It's hard not to with Buttercup snuggled up like she normally does every night and the fact that it's almost one in the morning.

A girl's gotta sleep.

I stir when I feel the car starting to slow and blinking, I lift my head and realize that we have pulled up to a closed gate. Sitting up fully, I watch as John rolls down his window and waves a key card over the red scanner. I stare, in amazement, as the tall gates open and we drive up a slightly sloping hill. Sitting on top of the hill is the nicest house I've ever seen.

Oh Lord. He's rich. I should've known, seeing as he sends both of his sons to Clearwater.

We drive up the driveway towards the house, which is well-lit and shining into the night, and around a small curve to a four door garage. the garage is connected to the house by a covered porch, which wraps all the way around the house. As we come to a stop, I notice that there are three other cars in the garage. There is a shiny, silver SUV, a red Accord, and the sleekest black mustang I have ever seen in my life.

It seems oddly familiar to me, but I'm far too sleepy to really care all that much.

Buttercup and I tumble out of the car as Dad opens the passenger door for us, giving Buttercup a pat on the head. She whines and licks his wrist.

"Charlotte should have everything ready for you both." John says as he leads us out of the garage. We head across the porch to a glass door, where I can see a table and a woman sitting at the table. As John opens the door, the woman stands and comes over. She's beautiful in a soft, homely way, with dyed blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. Much like her husband, there are subtle signs of aging. Wrinkles around the eyes and nose and mouth, hints of silver in her blonde hair, that sort of thing.

She smiles at Dad and I, "Hello, I'm Charlotte, I've heard so much about both of you. George, nice to finally meet you. And you must be Cassie, right?"

Her smile turns on me and I am blinded.

I nod dumbly, "Um, yes, nice to meet you."

Time to shut up, Cassie. I close my mouth and just look around what is obviously the kitchen. It's a huge kitchen, as I expected since the house itself is huge, with dark granite counter-tops and stainless steel appliances and light wood cabinets. Everything is neat and organized and tidy. There are hints of yellow everywhere, which I can appreciate. There are also pictures hanging around the wall.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Oh my gosh, I have to get out of here right now. This can't be happening. I refuse.

"I've got the guest bedrooms all set up for both of you." Charlotte says, "It's not much, but it should do on such short notice. We'll talk more in the morning, but for now I'm sure you'll want to sleep."

"Mom, Dad, what's-"

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Coming around the corner of what I assume is a hallway leading to the rest of the house is a person I never ever wanted to talk to again.

Warren Preston.

I recognized his pictures on the walls a moment too late, because there he is, in sweats and a t-shirt, squinting at our little group. Wanting to scream, I slowly step back behind Dad so he won't see me.

"Oh, Warren, I didn't think you'd be awake." Charlotte says, turning to her son as I die a thousand deaths, "This is George Harper and his daughter, they're staying with us for a while."

Oh yes, it is definitely Warren Preston who looks at Dad. I know his dark, tousled hair and wonderful green eyes and built upper chest and... anyways. I would recognize him anywhere because I never wanted to talk to him again.

Please don't see me, please don't see me, please don't-

Buttercup, the absolute traitor, is the one who betrays me. She starts to squirm and whine in my arms, wanting down to run around and stretch.

And Warren looks directly at me.

Dear God, now would be the very best time to smite me down and into the ground, please.

We stare at each other, me in complete and utter embarrassment, Warren in complete and utter surprise.

It's not even the fact that it's Warren in front of me. It's the fact that I'm still in pajamas with the emergency blanket around my shoulders and I have ash in my hair and soot across my face.

Warren's surprise disappears, his face turning into a mask of slight indifference, "Hello. I'm Warren."

How in the world does he do that? How is that humanly possible?

"Warren, this is Cassie." Charlotte says.

"I know." Warren interrupts, "We're in the same class at school."

My traitorous legs tremble a little. Why does his voice have to be so nice and smooth and deep?

Stop it! Get a hold of yourself, Cas!

"Oh, really?" Charlotte seems surprised, "Well, I'm glad, you can give her a ride to school in the morning."

Oh. Right. School in the morning. Surely I'm not expected to go to school tomorrow? I really don't want to.

Warren nods, arms crossing over his chest, "Of course, Mom."

"And while you're at it, go ahead and take her to the upstairs guest room, sweetheart, she's across from you." Charlotte turns to me, "The bathroom is set up if you'd like to take a shower, dear. Warren will help you if you need anything."

No, no, no, the last thing I want is to be alone with him.

There is a flash of a smile on his lips, then it's gone again, "Right this way."

I turn to Dad, who gives me a nod and reaches out to take my puppy, "I'll take her out, sweetheart. Good night, everything will be better in the morning. I love you."

I'm most definitely sure that things won't be better in the morning.

Reluctantly, I say good night to Dad, thank John and Charlotte, and then start to follow Warren.

I have the worst luck in the world.