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« Are you sure you’ll be okay without us ? » Mom asks unsurely. She helps me fish my two suitcases out of the car before dropping them onto the pavement.

I smile reassuringly and nod my head, « Yeah, I’ll be alright. It’s just a couple weeks, » I prop one of the suitcases onto its wheels and follow dad up the brick pathway towards the Parkers’ house. Mom trails behind me with my other suitcase towed behind her.

« Before we leave for the airport tonight, we’ll drop off your third suitcase. That should be enough for you to last a while until you need to get more stuff from home, » she informs me.

« Okay, » I agree, turning my head to glance up at my new home for the next 5 weeks.

The Parkers’ house is quite sweet, surprisingly. It’s a one story, bungalow-styled home with wide-bay windows and a small porch. The house has clearly undergone some renovation given its slightly modern appearance and the fresh-looking coat of light grey paint on the walls’ weatherboard planks. It’s hard to believe that Blake actually lives here given that he’s so tough, rebellious and dangerous. I don’t know what I was expecting – maybe a beaten-down caravan, a cardboard box or even a jail cell ? I’m not sure, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Once reaching their front step, dad presses the doorbell and we wait at their front door in silence. No more than a second later, I hear the distant sound of footsteps and my breath hitches in my throat at the possibility that it may be Blake. The front door swings open, revealing none other than a grinning Marisa Parker. I exhale I breath I don’t realise I’m holding.

« Hey guys. Welcome, » she greets, striding up to us and hugging each of us individually. Once reaching me, she smiles warmly. Her smile is kind and comforting, and I manage to relax a little, « Hey Bronte, it’s nice to see you again. Welcome to our home. »

« Thank you for agreeing to letting me stay ! » I beam at her.

She embraces me in a hug and then pulls away. Waving her hand nonchalantly, she replies, « Oh, it’s fine, no big deal. I’ll enjoy having a girl in the house for once. It can be tiring living with two males. »

I smile in response and watch as the parents begin to catch up on old times with each other. It’s nice seeing my parents with their friends. I know that sounds odd, but most of the time they’re either hung up on work or taking care of me. Leading a social life definitely isn’t a priority of theirs.

As the time passes by, I find my eyes wandering around the property and taking in the beautiful landscape again ; all the bright, blooming flowers, and the cute little fountain sitting in front of the house. Marisa is apparently really into her gardening, mom had informed me when we first arrived.

« Come inside, guys. Jay’s just out the back putting kebabs onto the barbecue. We’ll have some lunch, » Marisa states, breaking me out of my thoughts. She ushers us all inside.

▲ ▲ ▲

« Bronte, darling, we must be boring you out of your mind ! » Marisa laughs, taking a sip of her wine as she sits at the kitchen island beside mom. Dad and Jay left half an hour ago to hang out in the ‘Men’s lair’ – Aka, the pool table room, « Blake’s just in his room down the hall, you tell him to come and join us. He can keep you company, » she waves her hand at me, shooing me off.

My stomach sinks at her order and I freeze on the spot.

Call me a wimp, but I am scared to death of Blake. Despite only seeing him a few times when he saunters around the school with his friends, I know for a fact that he is not to be messed with and if you do happen to be the unfortunate person who decides to mess with him, you might as well start digging your grave because you’ll be 6 feet under very shortly. He can make your life a living hell with the snap of his fingers if you so much as breathe at the wrong time.

So maybe I’m exaggerating a little – A little.

But besides my fear of being murdered by the guy, I’m also fearful of facing him because :

A.) He’s a boy,

B.) He’s a hot boy,

C.) I look absolutely terrible right now,

And

D.) Did I mention that he’s a hot boy ?

When it comes to me and facing boys in general, I tend to embarrass myself more than the average girl would.

« Oh, no it’s fine ! » I reply, a nervous laugh escaping my mouth as I stare at her, hoping to God that she can see the panic in my eyes and will understand. Knowing my luck, that won’t happen.

And it doesn’t.

« Oh don’t be silly, » she insists, « He won’t bite ! »

But I like it rough.

Haha, I’m just kidding guys. That’s naughty.

I open my mouth to reply, but she cuts me off.

« His room is the one with the ‘Do Not Enter’ sign on it, » she states with a chuckle and a careless roll of the eyes – as if the warning meant nothing. « He’s had that sign hung up on his door since he was eight, » she laughs, and then quickly, she turns back to my mom and they resume their conversation.

I let out an uneasy breath and gingerly walk past the kitchen and down the hallway. I exhale slowly.

Okay Bront, toughen up. He could be a really decent guy. So maybe he’s done a few bad things, broken a few rules and beat up a few innocent people, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy, right ?

…Right ?

I walk along the hallway and my heart pounds as I arrive closer to that godforsaken door ; my palms clammy and my stomach churning. I was scared out of my mind.

Besides, you know better than to believe those rumours about him. You can’t be so quick to judge him when you’ve never even met the boy.

I stop at his bedroom door and hesitate for a long moment, my fist hovering in the air as I contemplate on knocking. His door reads ‘Do Not Enter’, which is a fairly big give away that he doesn’t want any company.

I sigh.

I don’t know why I’m so intimidated by this. Everyone had a sign like this on their door when they were ten.

I exhale slowly before finally mustering up the confidence in me to knock. After only a few moments of silence, a deep, husky (and rather attractive) voice breaks the silence with a brash response, « What do you want ? »

My lips part as I stare at the door for a second, unsure of what move I should make next. I hadn’t thought about what I would do once I get this far. Run away ? Change my name ? Move to another country ? Who knows.

I clear my throat before deciding to throw in a little humour to make him laugh and hopefully not kill me by chopping up my body and tossing me in a lake (Yes, I may have thought about that a little. A little), « Hmm, where do I start ? » I ponder his question.

« You’re not funny. »

Well then.

« My mom thinks I’m funny, » I frown, before speaking again when he doesn’t respond, « Your mom wants you to have some lunch with us, » I finally admit, chewing my bottom lip nervously.

« What’s your name ? » I hear shuffling come from his side of the door.