Camp Ballet Disaster

Disaster # 15

July 18th, 2013

There ya go.

You know I just realized that every male lead of my story is bipolar....every Male character. Tristan, Mason, Kyle...It just happens guys, I'm sorry lol!

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Fifteen

                     After what seemed like forever, the car halted to a stop but my deep slumber still did not allow me to open my eyes yet. I felt one of the car doors open and then two men talking. Though I couldn't make out one of the person's noise, the other one was definitely Tristan's manly voice. Then after a little more snickering and what-not, I felt my door being opened then a gentle push with light murmuring.

                   "Kane, we're here. Get up." I groaned and pushed the hand away but still did not manage to open my eyes. Consciously I was woken up but I did not want to open my eyes just yet. I was still making up for the last night's insomnia. And to be honest, it was working.

            "For heaven's sake Kane, look it's almost midnight." And that made me shoot up immediately. Opening my eyes, I just saw street light's dim brightness seeping through the windshield but everything else was dark. Not night dark but afternoon dark.

                     "Liar," I muttered groggily, rubbing my eyes, "it's only afternoon."

                  "Actually," I felt my seat belt coming undone and then I stretched my body to the max, lifting my shirt a bit from the gesture too, "it's only morning. Stormy weather, hence the dark sky."

                  He was right, it really was a lot windy and my hair was already sticking up in all directions. And I knew for a fact that it wasn't because of the long sleep I just had. It was due to the fact that even Tristan had to speak a bit louder to get me to hear him and I was already shivering. Iowa.

                     I got out of the car with both of my hands clutching my skirt for dear life but I barely could see anything with my hair blocking my view. So instead, I hurriedly slumped my back to the car so that my skirt won't fly everywhere; and pulled my hair into a tight, messy bun. Tristan glanced at me and chuckled at my position then motioned for me to come inside. Ignoring his playful attitude, I went contrary to his demand as my eyes fell on to, apparently, his house. To call it a house would be the biggest understatement, it was practically a palace. I knew that Tristan was rich but I didn't expect him to be that bloody rich. Heck, there was like a mile's walk from the garage to his doorstep.

                      Oh  Dear God, help me survive in this house for my inexperience's sake.

                      "You coming?"

                      "This is huge," I was still in awe.

               "It is a mansion," He replied narcissistically still bellowing out in a loud voice. Nonetheless, I started trudging behind him feeling relatively awkward and an uninvited outsider by walking on his rich property's large pathway. It felt weird going in to his house looking like crap. I bet my vice president's designation that this palace's house workers will be dressed better than me.

                      Finally we arrived at the door step which was as heighted as my normal house's ceiling and once entering the mansion, I found out the actual ceiling was twice the height of the front door. It was luxurious. Everything inside looked so expensive and just-out-of-the-shop to me. My gaze fell on the right side which had a huge diamond shaped, vintage-designed mirror where I could purely see my horrific condition. Man, I looked homeless.