Backstreet Boy

|Chapter 16: The Two Players|

Isabella

Mercifully, Sunday was quite a serene day for driving.

It also meant both Mother and Father were working at the council finishing the last few details on the construction of the pier, Felix was busy preparing himself for college the subsequent day (which entailed doing his homework last minute), and Abigail was occupied with her phone and unremittingly texting her friends via her social media accounts. Abigail had a tendency to do her homework early to give her time to work on her ambition as an interior designer.

"I've got some designs," she said this morning when I notified her of my uncharacteristic absence and reminded her of her duties to Father. "Just a few more and I'll be done."

"You can't have just a few," I replied, scoffing, "you need to have portfolios and categorise them. Hasn't Father's orderliness and neatness genes sank in yet or did you have the unfortunate thing to not inherit them?"

"Go away, Is," she said, sticking her headphones back in that connected to her phone. It vibrated and instantaneously she erupted in hysterical laughter.

Having already declared my absence to Felix, I jogged down the stairs and began driving to Jason's home. I responded back to his text as soon as I could. The unease was mounting inside of me and morphing with apprehension and fright. All in all, it wasn't much of a desired concoction that others would have a thirst for. If anything, it wasn't quenching my thirst, either. I could do with some water.

The drive was torturous. Thoughts were swirling around in my head. Conscious of the fact that I was now entering The District, I did the routine of authenticating that I was securely locked in my car before arriving at Jason's minute house. It almost made me crave such a small house to live in – perhaps I'd be closer to my family. Or perhaps not. It was a rarity to find small houses like Jason's in Marble Valley because for the simple reason that everyone who resided there was rich anyway and could afford to live and run a mansion.

I knocked on the door. Truth be told, that was after having scurried back to the car on the other side of the lot of houses to make sure it was locked. Hopefully I didn't look like too much of a moron to other people who were passing by or gawping out of their widows. And I could only optimistically hope that Jason didn't see my blunder, either.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up," he mumbled, moving out of the way to let me enter.

"Do you have any water?" I asked, feeling the scratchiness reach an all time high now in my throat. I also ignored his statement as I closed the door behind me.

Jason smirked to me before strolling to the kitchen where I followed. "You never fail to reach my expectations of your stereotype which is a rich girl, you know that, right? I bet you only drink wine, too and not beer."

"Actually," I contradicted, "I'm not much of a fan of alcohol at all."

Having now successfully filled a glass up of tap water, he handed it to me. "Well, now that is a surprise. Would have thought you'd also be rebellious and sneak out to parties in the middle of the night."

I took a chug of the water and then swallowed it all in haste to rid myself of the feeling of unease. Ah, I mused, that felt so much better. I put the glass down on the counter behind me. "I'm not rebellious-"

Jason smirked and stepped forward to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Oh no, I need more water. My throat was constricting lightly and my eyes were drawn to his lips that were in the form of a smirk. His arms were tight around the curve of my back, lingering just above the curve of my bum suggestively.

"Go out to parties in the middle of the night," he repeated, "and make-out with random guys before leading them up to the bedroom."

Just as his face was leaning down and his eyes were closing, I was thinking holy crap and that was a first for me. One of his arms moved from behind me. Just as I was beginning to close mine in a state of sheer madness and delirium, he pulled back, his arms leaving me and that's when I noticed the glass in his hand. Oh the sneaky - I was livid. How could he make me think I was about to kiss him when he was so close to my lips?