Chapter. 11

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Nicole Vargas

I could just feel the connection between me and Spencer. It felt amazing. It's like a dream, feeling the horse underneath me, holding onto the scrawly but beautiful flowing mane. Tail whipping behind, clinging on.

There was a sense of euphoria when traveling at high speeds, taking jumps, riding a pattern - a feeling of accomplishment and being in control, yet free at the same time.

I jumped off Spencer and brought her back to the barn. It was almost dawn and I was starving. After I cleaned her up and put everything back in place I closed the barn and walked back to the mansion. The delicious smell of food entered my nostrils when I walked into the kitchen.

"I made Chicken tikka masala, I hope you're hungry." Ethan handed me a plate with steamy white rice and spicy chicken served with a creamy gravy-like sauce. "It's a extremely popular british dish."

I rolled my eyes. Of course I know that, I'm not dumb. "I know and yes, I am starving. I skipped lunch."

Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. "Seriously? I told you to never skip a meal. Why didn't you had lunch?"

"I wasn't hungry." I lied. Actually I was really hungry, but there wasn't any leftovers that I could have. And I didn't want to cook nor did I wanted to bother Ethan who was busy in his study room.

"Liar." Ethan motioned at me to sit down at the dinner table. "Next time if you're hungry, just call me. I can make something for you."

That's the thing. I don't want to bother him. I don't want to be a pain in his butt.

"Mmhh," I moaned as I chewed softly on the chicken. It was so freaking good. Ethan was a masterchef. His cooking skills amazed me everytime. He is capable of doing so many things. Running a company, cooking, playing the piano. What can this boy not do? "You are a very good cook. Geez, why didn't you become a chef or something?"

Ethan chuckled. "Thank you and I like cooking as a hobby. Not like an actual job."

When we were finished eating I cleaned the table and Ethan did the dishes, because of course I will not do chores like that with my acrylic nails. It will damage and I want to have them longer since I spent a crazy amount of money on it.

"What do you think of my nails?" I asked Ethan as I stood next to him, watching him wash the dishes. He took a look at it and stared for a while.

"Looks really inconvenient, but beautiful nonetheless. It's really pointy though, why? You can stab someone with those nails of yours."

I laughed out loud. "I can scratch someone, but not stab. It's not that sharp. When I was younger I couldn't do anything If I had acrylic nails, but when I grew older I learned how to do stuff with it. And now, it's pretty easy."

"How old were you when you had those for the first time?"

I frowned my eyebrows and thought about it. That was a long time ago. "Probably like eleven or twelve."

"What! You were so young!" Ethan exclaimed.

I just shrugged. Growing up in the Vargas Family, you are never to young to do something. I got my first phone when I was seven and at the age of fourteen I had my own credit card and personal driver.

I was and I am still a spoiled princess. I don't expect anyone to treat me any less than that.

"That's my life Ethan. I have been spoiled my entire life."

Ethan dried his hands on the table cloth. "Is that why you are so dramatic? You always throw tantrums about random stuff."

"That's not true!" I brushed a strand of hair out of my face. "I'm very picky if it comes to shoes, clothes, and what not. I'm a fashion designer for god sake, I cannot walk around looking like a sack potatoes."

"What's wrong with a sack potatoes?" Ethan questioned.

"That's not the point." I groaned following him to the living room. "The point is that I don't like to look...common. I want to look instagrammy, you know. Aside from a fashion designer, I'm also a social media influencer. Have you seen how many followers I have. Seven point eight million. I'm even verified. What about you?"

Ethan sat down on the couch and turned the tv on. "I have a bank account with six zeros. What can you buy with your seven point how many million followers? Do you even get paid for it?"

"Yes, I get PR packages every time to review. Kylie cosmetics always sends me stuff. People beg me to review their brand. But I am very picky you know. I don't review brands who harm animals. I think it's disgusting."

"It is disgusting." Ethan agreed. "Poor animals. So that means you don't wear fur."

"Fake fur only. It's one of my favorite clothing items. It always completes an outfit."

"Did you always wanted to become a fashion designer?" Ethan asked, zapping through the channels.

I shook my head. "Actually no, I wanted to become a lawyer. I always loved that profession. It always fascinated me. But... not everything that I want, I can get. And becoming a lawyer was one of them. So that's why I became a fashion designer. What about you?"

"I always wanted to study business." Ethan said. "I don't know, but I just love the idea of running a company. I also remembered that I wanted to study the French language. But like you said. Not everything that I want, I can get. And studying french was one of them. I sucked at French."

I laughed heartily. "And there I thought you were capable of doing anything. Veronika is really lucky to have you."

The happy expression on Ethan's face disappeared. "Why do you bring her up? She's not my girlfriend. You are, remember?"

I cleared my throat. "The pretend one. I am the pretend one." I corrected him.

"I don't care. She is not my girlfriend. I don't know why you still think that."

"Because you said that to me." I said. "I don't know why you cannot tell Rose the truth. Is there a reason why?"

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked, looking at me questioningly.

"I mean why can't you tell Rose that you and Veronika are over?"

"Because," Ethan sighed and took a deep breath. "Veronika and I are very close friends."

"Friends with benefits."

"Close friends." Ethan repeated through gritted teeth.

"Ah side chick."

Ethan glared at me. "You know what, do you want me to play the piano for you?"

I smiled widely at him and that was the cue for him to stand up and walk over to the piano.


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