❝L'amour est l'emblème de l'éternité, il confond toute la notion de temps, efface toute la mémoire d'un commencement, toute la crainte d'une extrémité.❞ -Madame de Staël
Noah's dad's house is huge. Three cars are lined up front: a Porsche, a Tesla and a Mercedes, which I assume is Noah's. I park my out-of-place car behind Noah's and nervously walk to the front double doors.
I'm suddenly hit with a wave of uncertainty. Is this really a good idea? His stepmom and dad don't even know what I look like.
Before I can second guess myself, I ring the doorbell. Moments later, a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes answers the door. She has strands of gray hair mixed in with her golden hair, but if anything, it makes her prettier. She has gentle and loving features; that evident of a mother. There's a brief moment of confusion on her face, before a small smile appears.
"Are you one of the camp counsellors?" She asks in a distressed voice. Interestingly enough, a French accent tinges her speech. "What ever the twins did, I am so sorry. They've just turned eight, they're both handfuls—"
"I'm not a camp counsellor," I assure her, and she sighs with relief. "My name is Diana, I'm Noah's friend."
"Diana? Oh. Oh." Noah's stepmom blinks in surprise. "Aren't you from the city? That's a long drive. I'm Mabel, his stepmom. Please, come in, ma chérie."
"It's really nice to meet you," I say thankfully, shaking her hand. "I'm so sorry to intrude but I really need to talk to Noah."
She opens the door further for me, "you're as pretty as he says. No wonder you've got him wrapped around your finger."
I enter their luxurious house, taking in the high ceilings and dark colour schemes. "Thank you, but what do you mean by that?" I ask her curiously.
"He talks about you a lot, and he's only started opening up to me four days ago," Mabel has a small smile on her lips, as if she knows something I don't. "Well, he tells his dad about you, I just like to eavesdrop."
I feel a blush spread across my cheeks, and I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
Unlike Noah's house back in the city, this house is a charming, simplistic structure. It is modern yet welcoming, which doesn't normally happen with modern homes. It is obvious that this family has children; a collection of toys are tucked in a box under the table and muddled drawings are taped to the white walls. Aside from the childlike characteristics, it is still an elegant home.
One thing I take in immediately is the endless array of plants. On the coffee table, a small aloe plant sits, in the corners, large dracaena plants are precisely placed and the top shelves of their cabinets are decorated with ivies. As I admire the plants and design of the house, I hear the small pattering of feet.
Just then, a small boy crashes right into me. He falls to the ground, and since I'm thankfully taller than this eight year old, I manage to keep my balance.
"Cam!" Mabel scolds her child. "Apologize to Diana."
"Who?" Cam asks, still on the floor. "Diana? Noah does not stop talking about a girl named Diana, it's so annoying—"
"He kicked me!" A shrill voice screeches. At the backdoor, I spot a small girl with a big attitude. She crosses her arms and huffs, "Cam, get back here!"
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Falling in Love
Teen Fiction❝I never used to believe in soulmates, but now I find myself questioning every thought I once had about love. It was almost as though love was too weak a word for what I felt for him, that perhaps soulmate is indeed the correct term. Perhaps every s...
