Chapter 12

Ava

This morning I woke up wondering whether or not I should text Hunter and tell him that I’m ill and can’t make it over. I abandoned these thoughts about five minutes ago because I knew he would know that I was lying so.

Instead, I texted him asking what time I should leave. His reply was almost instant.

Hunter

Hey princess, is two okay? Also, I’ll pick you up.

Ava

Yes, two is fine but you really don’t have to pick me up, I can walk or something.

Hunter

Princess I live on the other side of town, you couldn’t walk, plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made you get the bus or something.

I sigh. There’s no use arguing with him.

Ava

Fine, see you soon.

After shutting my phone off, I proceed to the bathroom. It’s 11 a.m., and I need to be ready by 2, so I might as well start now. Who knows how many attempts it will take for me to actually look decent enough to be in front of Hunter’s parents?

I start a scorching shower, wash my hair, and shave. After I step out and dry my hair, I put in the contact lens that Hunter and I had got while shopping; I have a feeling Hunter wouldn’t find my big glasses, which hide half of my face, acceptable.

I exit my makeshift steam room and head to my wardrobe, which is bursting with all the clothes we bought at the mall. The clothes and I stare at each other. ~What is the right thing to wear to your fake boyfriend’s house to meet his parents?~

Yeah, there isn’t an answer. If there was, believe me, I would know.

Out my window, I see a gale blowing in. The last thing I want is to embarrass myself by wearing a skirt and giving everyone a free trip to Ava’s panty land, so I decide to stick with my high-waisted, black skinny. I throw them on and then try to find a flattering top so that I didn’t look so cheap next to his family.

The nerves really start kicking in when I think about what they will think of me. ~If they find out I’m not from a rich family, how will they react? Are they snobs? Am I making too much of a big deal out of this?~

Most likely.

I shake these thoughts away and carry on getting dressed.

I decide to wear an orange, off-the-shoulder top made from a smooth, silky fabric. It’s simple yet elegant, and it’s not too loose on me.

Satisfied, I start on my hair, twisting the front strands and pinning them back. I then pull some baby hairs down to frame my face and style the rest in beach curls.

After my hair is done, I add just a touch of makeup, hiding the bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. I make war-like patterns across my face with concealer before blending it out and adding powder. Lastly, I swipe a bit of mascara over my eyes and lip gloss on my lips.

I smile at my reflection. I only know how to use concealer because I watched a makeup video on YouTube—pathetic, I know—but everyone has to start somewhere.

I sigh as I check the time. It’s already 1 p.m. Perfect. I just have enough time to make some lunch before Hunter arrives to pick me up and take me to meet his parents.

I jump down the stairs in swift movements. The house is too silent without that steady drum.

In the kitchen, I open all the cupboards and the fridge, finally settling on some bread, ham, and cheese so that I can make a very plain sandwich. It doesn’t take me long to devour the sandwich, and my stomach calls out for more as I take the last bite. I ignore it, instead tidying my mess and wiping the counter.

Five minutes later, I’m back in my room, checking that my hair hasn’t fallen out and that all the grips are fastened securely. I then grab my jacket and phone, head downstairs, and pick a pair of black ankle boots with a small heel from the shelf by the front door. I take the keys off the hook and march out the door confidently.

The confidence fades as soon as I lock the door behind me with a satisfying ~click~. It’s one fifty-eight, and I feel anxious as I wait on the driveway for Hunter to take me to my doom.

As the minutes tick by slowly, I wonder if he is ever going to pick me up or if he lied and set me up. I pray it isn’t the latter, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try to make a fool of me.

At two o’clock, Hunter pulls into my driveway in his orange Vanquish, like the first time he picked me up, and relief floods through me. But the feeling is quickly replaced with the fear of meeting his parents. Hunter being here means I actually have to meet them, and there is no way I can get out of it; it’s too late now.

From behind the wheel, Hunter flashes me his infamous smirk. I roll my eyes and open the car door.

When Hunter asks how I am, I say that I’m fine, but I know he can hear the shakiness in my voice. Still, he doesn’t press the matter. Except for that small talk, the journey is forebodingly quiet.

Shifting nervously in my seat, I send a quick text to Lily, telling her how nervous I am. She replies with encouragement, and I try to relax my tense shoulders and let her words drown out my fears. But the taunting silence ebbs away at my very soul.

When we finally pull up to Hunter’s house, it’s amazing that I manage to get out. I thought for sure that my legs would buckle underneath me from the sheer weight of all my worries and doubts.

If that isn’t surprising enough, then the Blacks’ house most certainly is.

I say “house,” but it’s more like a mansion. Standing three stories high and God knows how long, its pristine whitewashed marble walls loom over me, reflecting the sun’s rays and blinding me with beauty. The dark oak front door is polished to perfection, standing guard, and four pillars gaze down at me.

Overall, the house seems like it’s ~daring~ my unworthy, poor feet to step inside. It reeks of money and wealth, showing me that I don’t belong.

“Ava?”

I don’t realize that I stopped walking or that my mouth basically hit the floor until Hunter calls my name, pulling me away from the beauty of the house and the horror of my thoughts. He stands by the door, which is held open by a butler wearing the typical uniform: black suit, white dress shirt, and a white cloth over his arm.

I roll my eyes, gather what little dignity I have left, and walk toward Hunter. My gaze snaps to his and then lowers, catching his foot tapping impatiently like a child.