Kendall Emeretta's orderly world is disrupted by the arrival of Wesley Archer, a threat who grins in the face of chaos. As her morals are compromised and ambitions blurred, will Kendall realise the art of maturity is more than a shiny new pair of Lo...
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A Richer Shade of Gold Chapter Thirty-Three
Kendall sometimes wished she could flick her thoughts off, like a light switch. She had wasted too much time in her life pondering over useless issues or stupid scenarios. Her mind always ran wild and it was enlightening at times, but for the most part she felt trapped. Her imagination often left her feeling a whirlwind of emotions, sometimes good, sometimes bad.
When someone occupied her thoughts, she wouldn't rid the thought of them for awhile. And sometimes it varied; a day, two weeks, six months. She never knew when to expect them to leave, or move on to the next thing.
She hated that when she was occupied with one thing—like Wesley—her brain would muster up every scenario, link, problem, emotion to do with it.
"You do realise," someone started next to her, pulling a chair out before plonking down next to her, "that it was a PR thing right?"
"I'm sure."
"No, really, Kendall."
"Why would I believe that? It's the most pathetic thing I've heard."
"Why would I be here vouching for him if I didn't know about it?" He sighed, "No one's seen Wesley since the night of the gala, I'm guessing he's not happy with how he treated you."
"I doubt it. Why does it matter anyways? It's not much of a rarity he's MIA."
"It's been a week. No one has heard anything."
"Great." Kendall shrugged, turning to face Ethan, all but sincerity laced in her tone. "Maybe he's just out on one of his good hearted expeditions to replenish the world, one public exploitation at a time."
She caught the look Ethan sent her out of the corner of her eye when she looked down at her book, her brows raised and lips pursed.
Kendall flipped the book she was staring at closed, readying her exit out of the library, "I don't care much for him."
"As your friend, Kendall, please at least just listen to me." Ethan pleaded, gently grabbing her forearm as she stood up.
Kendall looked at Ethan. She contemplated his involvement. What could he possibly have to gain from her public humiliation? In the brief few moments that Kendall's eyes bored into Ethan's, she couldn't conjure up any rational reasoning or motive behind the dilemma.
"Ethan, you're my friend, I know that—of course you are, and I would, I don't know...trust my dry cleaning with you," Ethan cracked a smile and so did Kendall, "but for this, please, please, don't fight me on this."
