The life of a girl with a bad boy

ks unsurely. She helps me fish my two suitcases ou

s, » I prop one of the suitcases onto its wheels and follow dad up the brick pathway t

third suitcase. That should be enough for you to last a while

y head to glance up at my ne

s 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 tou

ine. Even the little porch swing, creaking slightly in the breeze, adds a certain kind of charm. I can almost imagine sit

later, I hear the distant sound of footsteps and my breath hitches in my throat at the possibility that it may be Blake. Th

lly. Once reaching me, she smiles warmly. Her smile is kind and comforting, and I man

eing to letting me s

antly, she replies, « Oh, it's fine, no big deal. I'll enjoy having a

ice seeing my parents with their friends. I know that sounds odd, but most of the time they're eith

tle fountain sitting in front of the house. Marisa is apparently really into her gardening, mom had informed me when we first arrived. You could tell - there isn't

a says, and mom looks more relaxed than I've seen her in weeks. It's kind of nice to just stand here, soaking it all i

e smiles at me, sensing my slight tension. « He's out at the shop, but he

tense. I need time to settle in first, to breathe, to prepare myself mentally. There's somet

s inside? I'll show you to your

ous, cozy living room. The interior is just as welcoming as the outside - lots of warm, earthy tones, plush cushio

soft pastels. There's a full-sized bed covered in a fluffy white duvet, a desk by the window, and a small wardrobe

ay, » Marisa says,

er sincerely, setting my sui

looks around, nodding in app

down to your right, kitchen's through the living room, and you're welcom

in, feeling the last of

. I can tell mom's having a hard time leaving - her eyes keep darting back to me, like she's tryin

and announces, « Well, we better get

top of my head. « Call us if you need anythi

l, » I

the hall, Marisa leading them to the door. I hear the front door

eling - not quite sadness, but not exactly excitement either. Maybe it's just the uncert

ment, trying to shake off the anxiety gnawing at my stoma

ave