Running Away

chapter thirteen: showing up to cheer practice without a uniform

Edited.

T H I R T E E N : SHOWING UP TO CHEER PRACTICE WITHOUT A UNIFORM.

- Taylor -

Thankfully, Nick's friend didn't live in a rundown apartment complex like his own.

It was, quite surprisingly, a very extravagant mansion of sorts, with lush rosebushes lining the perimeter of the front garden and gleaming French windows. And because the salty smell of the ocean inched toward us from behind the roof, I guessed that we'd somehow driven closer to the shore. We weren't on the beach, but even from where Nick and I were standing, frozen on the steps leading to the door, I could hear the toiling of waves and the tuneless melody of seagulls.

"What do I do with my car?" I gestured back to where I'd left my vehicle parked on the curb, a glaringly obvious splash of yellow amongst a cluster of blacks and silvers.

Regardless of how fancy this neighborhood was, I couldn't swallow my severe lack of trust for Nick, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to come with him here—I hadn't the faintest clue where we were, and if I did want to leave, I wouldn't know where to go. Even as he began to ascend the stairs, a nagging feeling in my chest urged me to spin around and speed away.

But when Nick slid his arm around my waist, I felt the discomfort all but evaporate. "You'll be fine, Taylor. We'll go in, have a few drinks, and then we can get back to your cousin's place."

My insides squirmed. "And how am I supposed to steer a car while intoxicated?"

"Then don't have the alcohol," Nick laughed easily, knocking on the door once we'd climbed up to the porch. Planting a tiny kiss on my cheek, he added, "It's better if you don't, actually. That way we'll have a sober person to take us around."

Before I could ask him who exactly us was, the door was flung open with a great deal of force, revealing a woman who I could only describe as utterly gorgeous. She was rather tall, scraping maybe even six feet in her ankle boots, and had a head that seemed almost a little too large for her slender frame, but there was no ignoring the smoldering features on her face. She had lavender hair that curled almost to her elbows, a straightened fringe framing a pair of striking blue eyes.

"Nicholas!" She shrieked, reaching out and embracing Nick tightly against her chest. "I didn't think you were coming." There was an accent laced throughout her voice, something subtle but noticeable, and when she repeated his name again, she dragged out the final syllable for twice the normal amount of time. "Ni-cho-lahs," the girl chuckled, holding him at arm's length, "you look better."

He shrugged. "Thanks. Oh," Nick motioned toward me with his hand finally, as if he'd just remembered that I was there with him, "this is Taylor—Taylor, this is Magnolia—"

"Maggie," she interrupted him swiftly, her nose wrinkled in distaste at the sound of her full name. When her sharp gaze landed on me, though, her brows instantly tangled together. Tapping a finger to her cheek thoughtfully, Maggie drawled, slow and measured, "You look familiar."

My heart catapulted into my throat immediately, thudding violently as I faltered under Maggie's stern examination. I hadn't noticed before how piercing her irises were, but as she scrutinized me with them, I realized just how sharp they were. I'd never considered for a moment that I bore a resemblance to Isabella; it'd always evaded me, the thought that I might've looked similar to my sister. But now, with Maggie wracking her brain for an idea as to where she had seen me before, I felt fear blossoming inside of me.

"Isabella O'Donnell," she blurted suddenly, a menacing grin unfolding on her crimson lips. "That's what it is! You—damn—"

I intervened before she could jump to any dangerous conclusions. Plastering an enormous smile onto my face, I laughed. "No, no, I definitely don't. She's—I can't possibly—no, Maggie, Isabella O'Donnell is a model. You—you must be joking."