Paint Me Red

Chapter 3 - Julian Perreault

Paris paused. A cold sweat slipped from her ear-length hair, dropping to her neck and disappearing into her tank top. The back of her palm immediately shot up to swat away the pearls of sweat.

She looked at her mother through the kitchen doorframe and mindlessly watched her sprinkle the spices into her new recipe for their lunch. Her temples scrunched up in confusion. She could not recall the name her mother currently pronounced. "Say again?"

"Have you gone deaf or what? I said, Julian." Suzzan sighs and continues to saute the food. "He said he's someone special to you. He even called you the other day, but I picked up your phone."

"And I told you I do not know him." Paris firmly reiterated.

A probable stranger was waiting for Paris in her room with her mother's permission.

"You are saying you allowed some stranger in my room?" Paris ignored Suzzan's previous words. Privacy was important: normal to anyone, but clearly, her mother seemed troubled with the word. Blame it on Suzzan's busy morning schedule, but Paris already offered help with the chores. Suzzan needed to observe the visitors.

"He looked harmless," Suzzan spoke.

Paris immediately realized the course of the conversation. He must be Suzzan's type, according to her mother's belief: affluent appearance.

"He could be a pervert." Paris sighs, and Suzzan looks at her in disbelief. The conversation was nowhere practical nor related to their concerns. They were just trying to prove each other their points.

"He insisted on knowing you, even suggested that you only do not remember him. Now that cannot be made up, right?"

She heard her brother following closely behind her with all the grocery bags she forgot in the car as soon as she saw another black Mercedes in their driveway. He casually dumps all four grocery bags on the kitchen counter before offering a helping hand to their mother, aware of the stranger in the house. Paris turned around and headed to the staircase, exiting the bickering between mother and son.

Bewildered Paris, could not believe that her ignorant mother let a stranger be allowed in her daughter's room just because he claimed to be a special friend. His name did not ring a bell in her head either. Various thoughts ran through her mind as she ascended the stairs. Paris does not tend to forget close and special friends. Instead, her decency in friendship had been praised by all the people she had known.

She did not provide any information about her whereabouts recently to anyone either. If a person knows about her mother's house, then he must be truly special or suspicious. She does not expect anyone to visit her anyway.

She stopped right outside her room and peeked inside, facing the back of the guy. His looming tall figure seems to be inspecting her orderly room. She quietly but cautiously stepped inside like a burglar, about to rob him. He picked up a book from the top shelf before admiring it.

"Hey." She spoke. The guy dropped the book as soon as he was aware of the presence behind him, resulting in Paris's flinching at the thud sound the book made in the tranquil room. He hastily picks it up again and puts it back in its original place before facing Paris, pretending as if nothing happened.

She quickly scanned his face in an attempt to recognize him. The high cheekbones, carved bushy eyebrows with a pair of upturned dark eyes did not remind her of any friend. His light blue shirt highlighted his delicate features along with his rich fair glow. Paris found the guy moderately handsome.

"Hey! Y-You are back." He awkwardly waved and smiled. A bulb of realization went off in Paris's head as she instantly recognized him. He resembled the guy from her dream. It was him.