UNEDITED
After violating campus rules and committing student misconduct, twenty-three-year-old Warren Ashford is deep trouble and at risk of losing his volleyball scholarship -- the one thing he truly values other than his bad boy reputation, and hi...
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Nova
I've come to the conclusion that Warren was accidentally switched at birth with another boy – there is no possible way he's related to Cam, Karen, and Hazel. His family is just so nice and he's, well...Warren. It makes no sense.
Logically, I know my conclusion is wrong – there are too many pictures of Warren in the hallway; ones that range from the day he was born to last year. Karen even went as far as to tell me about some of the photos. I'll never say a word, but my favourite picture was of Warren and Hazel when they were younger. They were both covered in cake and icing after having a cake fight during his seventh birthday. It made me smile.
Speaking of Hazel...
She's absolutely gorgeous. Her long dark brown hair stops mid-back, her skin is flawless, and she can really pull off the no-makeup look. Her and Warren have the same heart-shaped faces, but hers looks more feminine; instead of having a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones, she has a cute babyish layout that makes her face a little rounder than his. Their eyes, though – those are the same shape, size, and dark blue colour. She's also tall, but not as tall as Warren.
Aside from the height and hair colour coming from Cam and the eye colour and face shape coming from Karen, both kids are a perfect blend of the parents. It makes me jealous – maybe if my genes had evened out a little, I wouldn't be so short.
Dinner and dessert are delicious – lemon butter crab-stuffed salmon that's blackened with various spices, followed by a lemon pound cake with a fresh blueberry compote – and by the time we're finished, it's almost eleven. By that time, I'm stuffed and exhausted. Which is why I'm relieved when Warren tells me to come upstairs with him.
As we walk upstairs, I can't help but gawk at his house. It's perfect, the most beautiful house I've ever seen, with its dark, shiny floors, different shades of white, high-vaulted ceilings, and homey feel.
It's magnificent, as is the bedroom Warren leads me to. It has a king-sized bed, complete with a barn-wood headboard and a white comforter. Behind the bed is a large window that has an astounding view of the Atlantic Ocean and its rocky beaches. The walls are painted white. Oh, and did I mention it's about five times the size of our dorm room?
I walk around the room, admiring every little thing my eyes can see. I almost begin to bawl when I see the doorway to the en-suite bathroom. I've missed having a real bathroom.
Making my way back over to the bed, I notice that Warren has already unpacked our suitcase, hanging our clothes up in the closet. He's even gone as far as to throw our used clothes in the laundry hamper. I can't hide my shock. The guy barely picks up his clothes in our dorm room.
"Do you like it?" Warren asks.
Flopping down on the bed, I roll onto my side and look at him. He greets me with a sly grin and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. I sigh. "I love this room. This house. Is there any way we can pick this place up and bring it to Vancouver with us?"
