The Guy On The Motorcycle[ON HOLD]

4| Don't leave

CHAPTER 4| Don't leave

"What is she doing here?" I whisper shout with my eyes narrowing as Angelina, Matthews ex girlfriend walks up to us.

"My parents invited her." Matthew replies, with his arms around my waist getting tighter. "But at least be sassy. Don't let her get to you."

"Matthew!" Angelina smiles, "I've missed you! I haven't seen you in forever."

"Well I've been busy." Matthew says.

"We both have been busy." I smile up at Angelina.

She looks at me as if just noticing me. "I thought I told you to get me a drink." She raises her brow.

"Well I do remember telling you to get the drink yourself. I don't work here."

"Then why are you here?" Angelina glares at me while taking a step forward.

"Because," Matthew pulls me closer to him. "Ashlee is my girlfriend."

My widen a fraction at the sound of girlfriend. I quickly mask it over with a smile when Angelina looks back at me. "That's right," I turn sideways and peck Matthew on the cheek. "I am his girlfriend."

"Matthew," Angelina shakes her head staring at me with distaste. "You could have done so much better."

"Oh he did," I smile. "After dating you."

Angelina glares at me and in return I smile as sweetly as I can. Matthew takes my hand in his and pulls me along with him as he goes around Angelina. He pulls me in the direction of inside the house.

"You are utterly amazing." Matthew tells me when we're finally inside.

"Thank you." I grin.

Walking further into the house everything is either white, gold or silver. Mostly white. When you walk in you have sight of the enormous living room and the stairs that head up to the second floor. Walking passed the living room are three hallways and to my left I see a kitchen that is bigger than my apartment. When Matthew takes me into the dinning room, I get a bad feeling, I do not belong in a place like this. It is huge, with a long dinner table, pretty white and golden chairs. On that table, placed in the center are roses and wine glasses. There are two different types of forks and spoons, and one knife beside each plate that is on the table.

I take ahold of Matthews arm as I stare at everything. "I.... I...." My eyes have no clue where to look at. I mean for heaven sakes, the walls are white and the floor is too. The table cloth is even white. I am too afraid that I'll stain something. What if I spill my drink? What will I do? Apologize?

"I'm scared." I whisper into Matthews ear.

Beside me Matthew chuckles deeply. "Why do you think I don't live here."

"What?"

"I live in a place of my own, except for my cousin Graham who chose to live with me for this reason too. I can show you my place later."

"That would be a relief from here," I laugh awkwardly.

I follow Matthew to the far end of the table where I take a seat beside him. Three ladies in their mid twenties dressed up in aprons carry plates and pots in from the kitchen and place them on the table.

When Matthews grandfather, Frank enters the dinning room, he walks over to us and takes the seat beside me.

"Get ready to be judged." Frank tells me in a low voice.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask just as quietly.

"I just mean you should run while you have the chance."