Chapter Eight: "Your Face Looks Like It Ran Into The Hulk's Fist."
I SLIP into the clothes I came in here with, and happily threw the scrubs I was forced to wear for nearly a month and a half. Directed to the door, I don't hesitate in getting out of the Hell Hole and facing the real Canadian world that isn't behind bars.
The cab that the prison receptionist called is parked out front waiting for me. With nothing to lose, I throw open the entrance door and wince once the sunlight hits my sensitive eye and makes it sting. I open the door and throw myself in the vehicle, silent as ever and waiting for the driver to take me to my new home.
My mom snapped something about the address, and I just so happened to remember it.
Well, also to say that she called me yesterday, saying that the woman should be home and gave me an address. Turns out, they live in rural land near the mountains surrounding Thunder Bay.
I don't pay attention as to how much time is spent driving; just that I stare out the window at the large hills covered with trees and cliffs as we pass other vehicles in the forest.
The cab pulls up to a large cottage-like house, with three large barns and a lake behind it. A ranch. I'm going to be living on a fucking ranch?!
It's been ten minutes since I seen the last house, and my jaw literally drops at how big the house is. It looks to be three or four stories, but given that the walls are just floor-to-ceiling windows, it looks to be more on the four story side of things, when I see a tiny balcony above the third floor.
The house is made more of glass than it looks to be anything else, and I gulp when I see the driveway. It's long, no doubt, but the fact that the cab doesn't pull inside and dumps me off at the curb, makes me lose confidence and stand there gaping like a fish out of water. At least if he pulled in, then I'd have no choice but to approach, but given that it's a driveway, I actually have the opportunity to run away and never look back.
But a huge realization in my head makes me drag my feet along the paved drive-in without looking back.
My phone and everything I own is in that house.
As I reach the back, I notice that behind a large brush of trees out front, the area behind is wide and open and full of horses and a pen on the opposite side has very, very large pigs. They sent me to a farm! I'm from the city, where mud doesn't exist unless it rains, and they sent me to a place where there's nothing but mud, whether it's dry out or not!
I internally groan at the thought that living here will most definitely require me to deal with those disgusting animals as a chore, and literally force myself up the steps. Having an internal debate again on whether to run away, I fight against it. I at least need to get my phone before running anywhere. Though the lack of community and the mountain ranges tells me that this far out here probably has little to no cell service.
Whoopee.
I ring the doorbell once and then bang on the door a couple times.
"Okay, Brooklyn, you got this. It's just like meeting people. No, it is meeting people! Just be nice, and don't cause problems like you have all throughout high school. You're only sixteen, you can legally move out if problems arise. You got this, May. You got this." I keep on repeating out loud that I have this under control and that since nobody knows me, I'll be fine.
When five minutes pass and I get no response, I'm turned on my heel to leave and start fresh when the door opens.
"Shit. And here I thought I was free to return to Justin."
I turn back around and instead of seeing a woman like my kind mother oh-so-happily promised, I see a tallâaround 6'1â boy with brown hair and blue eyes about the same shade as mine when I'm not angry.
"Sorry, what did you say? I wasâ" He begins, his vision locked at something behind him. He then turns around and looks at me in confusion, and his eyes widen when he looks me over and they linger on my face a lot longer than comfortable. "What in the hell happened to you?"
No hello? "IâI um. . . a fight." I stammer, trying to find the right words. Well, so much for not being the same Brooklyn that wound up in prison twice in two years.
"Woo, clearly." He blows out some air, and starts to chuckle at the thought. "It's like a sledgehammer met your face! Are you okay or something? Want some ice?"
That was rude! Hopefully this guy is just a cousin or something. What an asshole! "Ughâ"
"I don't bite," he chuckles. "Plus, I kind of won't take no for an answer. Your face looks awful."
Wow. Straight forward and blunt. Okay, maybe I like him. "Wow. Jumping right on to conclusions? Not even a simple hello?"
"Okay, fine, strange girl who shows up on my doorstep. Suit yourself. I was being nice."
"No shit."
The boy rolls his eyes. "Just get in the damn house."
"Oâkay then."
He gestures to come in, and I follow behind him. I close the door behind me and am immediately greeted with the smell of cinnamon. He tells me to sit down in the living room and points to his left. I unnarrow my eyes, and turn, and not even a step later am I met with a living room bigger than the master bedroom of my house. It's an open concept living room and kitchen, and everything is light. The floors are light hardwood, and the furniture is white with a crème table and long couch. There's a 70 inch flat screen TV hanging on the wall, and several stage-like lights on the ceiling that are built inside instead of poking out.
The boyâwho looks around my ageâwalks several feet behind me to the kitchen, where all appliances are stainless steel with a large island in between. The cupboards are made of a milk chocolate brown, and a large dining table is placed just to the left of that in a smaller attached room.
"Um, do I have the right house?" I ask, my words coming out rather rushed. If I don't, then I have no idea what to do.
"I don't know, do you?" He replies.
"I. . . I have no idea." I say sheepishly.
The boy perks a brow amusedly. "Depends what and who you're looking for." He answers, opening the bottom of the fridge.
"Oh, okay. Ugh, my mother said that a woman lives here. Shit, what's her name again? Elizabeth, Ellâ"
"Ella?" The boy suggests, raising his other brow.
"Is that it?" I question myself quietly. "Yes!" I exclaim with a snap of my fingers. "Ella is her name."
"Well then I guess you have the right place." He laughs. "Ella's my mother." He explains.
Mother?! My mother nor father mentioned anything about Ella having kids! Just great. I should have known that a woman couldn't look after so many animals by herself.
"The name's Landon."
"Brooklyn," I acknowledge him as he walks back to me and hand me a bag of frozen peas. I give him a small smile and place the vegetables on my eye; the coldness immediately making the throbbing that was starting to show, go away.
"So," he begins, sitting down. "What brings you here?"
Shit, does he not know that there's going to be another body added to his house?
"Ugh," I say, biting my lip, "I'm actually going to be living here."
He starts laughing. "Cute and funny. A keeper."
I blush under his gaze and bite my cheeks.
He continues to stare at me, figuring if I'm kidding or not, but once he sees the embarrassing look on my face, he immediately stops his hysterics.
"Oh shit, you're serious." He looks taken aback as he leans back and rests his back against the back of the couch, his arms behind his head. "Really? My mom never mentioned anything about having a female roommate."
"My mom never mentioned anything about the woman I was going to be living with having a kid."
"Kids," Landon corrects me. "Plural, as in more than one."
More than one child?! Oh holy hell. How many more of them are there?!
"Wait, what? Kids as in how many?" I ask nervously.
"Five." He answers. "All boys."
Freaking great.
"Aâall boys?"
"Well, at least I think they're all boys. I don't really pay attention to my brothers' body parts, but hey if you're curiousâ"
"No thank you!" I exclaim, waving my good hand around so he takes the hint to stop talking.
He laughs, and smirks at me. We're in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Landon breaks it. "So, Shorty, what brings you to my humble abode?"
I chuckle at how he introduced his house, but the funniness fades when I recall why I'm here, and everything I've done since then because of it. And at the new nickname he has for me. I'm not even that short either!
5'4 isn't short, is it?
"Don't call me that," I say with a disgusted face. "And, to answer the next of your thousand questions, my mother got a job offer in New York." I answer, trying not to heat up at the thought of them abandoning me like I meant nothing for the past sixteen years.
"But that's a while away. And, no offense, but I'm pretty sure you got the wrong country." He says, and I narrow my eyes, and see that there is genuine confusion on his face.
His pretty damn hot face.
The way his hair is styled: his bangs being the only things spiked up, the way his strong jaw line perfectly shapes his round face. He's what you would consider a God, but what do I know? I met him no more than five minutes ago.
"Wait, I'm not in America?" I gasp, trying to lighten up my frustrated mood. For some reason though, Landon gives off a comforting vibe, even though it's more in a cocky way. Whether or not it's a good thing, I'm not sure, but he doesn't seem bothered by my presence, unlike some people. . . "Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have accepted that bottle of champagne from that sketchy looking bouncer!"
I'm not lying, on the plane I needed to go to the bathroom, so I got up, and some guy just asked if I wanted his booze because he was supposed to be sober and regretting bringing it along. I'm not stupid, so I made him take a sip of it first to make sure it wasn't tampered with, and regretfully, he took the sip, gave it to me easily, and I drank the whole bottle in the loo.
Needless to say, the security guards looked really confused once I stumbled out.
"Shit," I hear him mutter, and I just laugh.
"Totally kidding with you, by the way," I giggle. "I got shipped away while my parents moved to the Big Apple."
"Really?"
"One hundred percent."
"So, you couldn't just, like, stay home alone, or something? No offense, but you act old enough to be home alone."
I snort. I think I look my age! If anything, I get told I look older. However, that first part was what impressed me. I haven't heard those words in forever. I kinda missed them. "If you knew me, you wouldn't even be asking that question."
"I would have never guessed you as a bad girl." He speaks mischievously, giving me a rebellious look. "So what things have you done, Rebel?"
"I just met you, I'm not answering that." I laugh.
"Come on!" He presses. "I'll show you my bad boy ways if you show me yours." He's smirking, and honestly, it's something that is going to annoy me.
"That goes two ways." I point out.
"Whichever way it may be, I hope it ends up behind a closed bedroom door."
I ignore his comment. My friends back home would use those all the time, and I just ignored them because I know it was their way of teasing and to not take it seriously.
However, I have nobody's second set of eyes to show if I should take it literal or not. That was what I had Lacey and Jody for; they always pinpointed it out for me so I wouldn't fall for any hysterics that boys pulled and not end up like what happened last year.
This Landon guy seems really chillâbesides the damn innuendos he's conceiving, and perhaps, I think a spark of friendship can easily come between us. He gives off this mysterious, troubled vibe, and not to forget he basically called himself a bad boy. He gives off that impression too: the conceitedness, and the snarky remarks and the pickup line. Besides that, for some regretful and suspicious reason, I can't help but feel that he makes me feel safe and secure, which is bad because I don't even know how old he is.
Speaking of which. . .
"So, how old are you?"
"I'm seventeen." He shrugs, "What about you, Shorty?"
Again with that damned nickname!
"Can you, like, not, call me that?" I roll my eyes. "It sounds like s prostitute's name."
"It probably is one," he agrees. "Okay, hmm, let's see what I can kill you with. . ."
I gulp. "Wâwhat?"
"Don't take it literally, genius. I'm looking for a nickname I can tease you with for the rest of your life."
"What makes you think you'll be around for the rest of my life?" I scoff.
"Please, darling, once you see my brothers, I guarantee you'll fall in love with at least one of us." He answers seriously. With so much authority and how promising he sounds, it scares me that he might be right. "Especially me."
If his brothers look anything like he does, then I might as well marry them all.
"Pfft, yeah, right. Over my dead body."
"What's that supposed to mean, Blue?"
"Blue? What the hell does 'Blue' mean?" I ask with raised eyebrows.
"It's your new nickname. I thoroughly enjoy it." He shrugs with a smirk.
I mentally face palm. "I don't. I'm not a dog."
"No, but you might as well be mine." He says with a wink, and that makes me shrink a little bit.
"Yeah, I just met you, but I'm not taking it back when I say this: you're disgusting."
"And that, dear Blue, is exactly why I enjoy it." He answers, and takes the thawed peas out of my hand once I hold them out to him. "And, I'm not going to take your beautiful words to heart. I've heard that frankly, I taste quite amazing."
"And to think, I have to deal with you for the next two years." I say under my breath, groaning and sighing.
I'm starting to take back my words. I don't want to be living with a bunch of idiots.
"Best two years of your life, angel, trust me." He says with a wink. I watch him as he tosses the peas bag back into the freezer, and gestures me to follow him. When I don't move, he huffs and rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine, look for your room by yourself. I was just being a gentleman."
I furrow my eyebrows, but before I can even say anything, footsteps boom from upstairs, stomping their way down until they stop. My eyebrows crease even more, and suddenly a tall boy emerges from the staircase.
I watch him as he doesn't notice me, and skips his way to the fridge, smacking Landon's cheek as he rummages through the fridge. Landon's eyes narrow and he slaps the boy at the back of his head.
"Ow! What the fuck, man!" He yelps, rubbing his head.
"How many times have I told you to stop fucking touching me unless you want to end up hanging off the flagpole on the mountain by your underwear again?" Landon retorts, and turns to face me, whacking his brotherâI thinkâagain. "So, Blue, you coming or not? I'm not going to sit here all day waiting on you. I got better things."
The boy, who stops scavenging through the fridge, lifts his head up. "Who in the hell is Blue? Is that this month's catch, or did we get another animal?" He asks in confusion. Landon rolls his eyes and points to me, and I still remain in my seat and unspoken.
The guy turns around and catches my eye, and immediately, his eyes widen and he storms over and grabs my face in his hands, and laughs. "Damn, you're hot but your face looks like it ran into the Hulk's fist."