•°1°•
My alarm blared at 6:30 AM, a rude awakening signaling the end of weekend freedom and the return to school. I peeled myself from the warmth of my king-sized bed, nestled in Egyptian cotton sheets, and headed for the shower.
Post-shower, I dressed: faded blue ripped jeans, a black and white Adidas superstar sneakers, and a matching Adidas top. A black wristwatch completed the look. I straightened my long, black hair—a gift from my mother—and admired the contrast with my bright blue eyes, inherited from my father.
Satisfied with my appearance, I headed downstairs. The aroma of waffles drifted from the kitchen, a daily ritual courtesy of my mother.
“Morning, Mom,” I chirped, a smile stretching across my face.
“Morning, honey. Waffles, your favorite,” she replied without looking up from the stove.
“What would I do without you?” I asked, genuinely grateful.
Meet Katherine West, my mother. Married to Scott West for eleven years, she’s devoted her life to our family. With our wealth, she doesn’t need to work, content to ensure my brother and I have everything we need, indulging in shopping sprees whenever the mood strikes. A classic housewife, through and through.
Her hair is black, like mine, though cut short a year ago. She has chocolate hazel eyes, mirroring those of my younger brother, Jonathan West.
After breakfast, I grabbed my backpack and exited the mansion, heading towards our driver’s matt silver Audi RS8, boasting black seats and rims.
Oh, how I loved that car. My favorite German creation.
The car stopped before the school. Just *thinking* about entering those doors filled me with exhaustion.
***
Finally, it was the last period of the day, and Business Studies was the only class I genuinely looked forward to—solely because I shared it with *him*.
Jason Blake.
He was the most attractive guy in school, despite his reputation as a bad boy. Rumors swirled about his father, a gangster who could make problems "disappear." People like me worshipped him regardless.
Judge me if you must.
He had a faded cut, his light brown hair styled messily. At 6’2”, he towered over my 5’3” frame. Vibrant green eyes and a perfect “boy next door” smile completed the picture.
“I’ll be right back, I need something from the office. Could be a pop quiz, you just never know,” our teacher announced, heading for the door.
Instinctively, I pulled out my phone, joining the usual class chatter. I was minding my own business until someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to see Taylor, one of Jason’s friends.
Taylor was, admittedly, the sweetest of the group. He attended classes, earned good grades, and was even class president. He came from a wealthy, respected family.
Honestly, I had no idea how someone like Taylor ended up with guys like Jason. But they shared something—they were undeniably hot.
But Jason Blake was still my God, and he was all I saw. Him, and no one else.
And with that said, my eyes automatically started searching for him and when i found him, he was staring directly at us, very intently. Not paying much attention to the people talking to him.
Taylor was speaking, but I could barely hear him over my loud heart, banging in my chest. I quickly returned my attention to Tyler to grasp at least something from what he saying in order not to seem rude.
He was making small talk, nothing serious or anything connected to why Jason was, and still is, looking at us the way he is.
He could be deep in thought. Why would he be looking at you?
Why is his friend at my table?
The question makes me turn my head to stare at a group of girls who were looking at us. If looks could kill?!
“Are you okay? You seem tense,” Taylor asked, concern etched on his face.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” I took a breath. “Just wondering why you’re at my table.” A small laugh escaped my lips. “Guys like you don’t talk to girls like me.”
“Oh, I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable,” he said, his smile genuine.
“No, of course not,” I replied, my gaze drifting back to Jason.
Taylor followed my gaze.
“Don’t mind him. Ms. Tamia pissed him off the period before this one.”
“Oh.” Another laugh slipped out. “What happened?”
He chuckled. “You don’t want to know.”
He paused, then looked at me. “But I’d love to tell you sometime. We should hang out.” He looked directly into my eyes.
He had really pretty ears.
I blushed slightly. “Uhm, yeah sure. Just let me know where and when.”
“I’m actually hosting a party at my dad’s new mansion. Think of it as a housewarming. I’d love to have you there.”
Oh. He meant hang out like that. In a party setting.
What did you think? A one on one? This boy doesn't like you like that okay? Stop being delusional.
“Can I bring a friend?”
“Of course.” He stood. “Don’t disappoint me, West.” He looked down at me before winking and returning to his desk.
Again, I blushed at the wink.
Stop. Being. Delusional.
I had to tell Tracy!
***
“So?!” Tracy demanded, jumping onto my bed. “What happened?!”
“Nothing big, really, but it felt like a marriage proposal!” I giggled, and Tracy joined in.
“He just told me he was having a party at his dad’s place, and I should come,” I explained.
“And you’re going, right?” she asked, as if my refusal was unthinkable.
Silence. Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t the type Taylor would go for. And then there were the popular girls—perfect bodies, flawless smiles, good grades, cheerleaders, wealthy parents. They partied hard, bragging about encounters with jocks. I’d overheard them discussing positions I’d never even heard of, and had to Google them when I got home. They were *perfect*, and I was far from it. I had rich parents and good grades, sure, but I felt intimidated.
“Come on! This is Taylor we’re talking about!” Tracy urged.
“Exactly, not Jason,” I muttered. Jason Blake was the love of my life, even if he didn’t know it. Taylor was just…hot.
“Besides, I have nothing to wear,” I sighed.
Then, a wide, mischievous grin spread across her face.
Before I knew it, Tracy had told my mom I’d been invited to a party—by a boy—and my mom was acting like a teenage girl, demanding “details.”
So here we are, in the car, with my mom’s credit card, heading to the mall.
I wanted to make a good impression, especially for my first house party. I grabbed black leather shorts and a cute black fur boob tube top, pairing them with Saint Laurent heels. I added gold accessories to tie the outfit together.
We still had time and money left, so we headed to the salon for hair and nail appointments.
After we paid, Tracy’s driver dropped her off, and we said goodbye. Then we headed home.
It was now my favorite part of the day: dinner time. In my lifestyle—mansion, shopping sprees—someone sponsors it all. That someone is my father, who I only see at the dinner table.
“Hi Daddy,” I said, throwing my arms around him.
“Hey Princess,” he replied, kissing my forehead.
We were all seated, enjoying a pleasant evening while sharing stories about our day.
“How was school, honey?” my mother asked my brother, Jake.
“It was good, I made the team.”
“Really! Honey, I’m so proud,” she exclaimed.
“You did good, son,” my father said.
“And you, Paige?” my father asked.
“Oh uhm, I, you know, nothing much,” I said, devouring a rib.
“She got invited to a party by a boy,” my brother blurted out.
“Dude!” I exclaimed.
He only smirked.
How did he even find out? Word spreads fast.
“Is that so?” my father asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“He invited me as a classmate.”
“Oh really?” my father asked. “So it’s a study session?”
“Well no, but we aren’t dating or anything.”
“Hmm,” he simply said. “Well, the only way you’re going to that party is with Shane.”
“What?! Dad, come on.”
Shane was our driver, also my bodyguard—the youngest staff member in our family. He was assigned to me because he looked young, making his security less obvious.
“Mom,” I pleaded for help.
“Oh honey, she’s eighteen now. I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself,” my mother replied.
“You don’t drink, do you?” my father asked.
Yes, we're best friends.
“No.”
“Good. Then I think you can take care of yourself then, besides you did take self defense classes.”
Just like that?
Regardless, I excused myself and headed upstairs to work on homework. I found the silence soothing, focusing on my studies.
After finishing, I showered, changed into pajamas, and burrowed under my comforter.
Sleep wouldn’t come. So I got my headsets and headed downstairs to the dance studio.
Whenever I was stressed, bored, angry, or happy, I danced. It was my drug and therapy.
***
An hour into dancing, sleep finally overtook me. I headed to the kitchen for water when I heard my father talking on the phone in the guest room.
Why was he in the guest room? At this hour?
“They are all asleep.”
“But you know you can’t do that.”
“Yeah I know but we can’t risk her seeing you, how would we explain it? It will be too much for her and she'll crush."
My heart dropped.
Wait, baby?! My mom is down the hall and he's calling someone else baby? Could it be that my dad is… Cheating on my mother?