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“It's nice to meet you, Lark.” I saw his mouth moving, but I didn't hear him since I was fixated on his hand still wrapped around mine.
“Are you going to tell me what you were laughing at in English?” He asked.
Iheardthat and responded with a resounding, “No.”
He'd taken my answer as a challenge. I saw it burning in his eyes, which he confirmed when he said, “I'll get it out of you, somehow.”
My body started to throb and suddenly I wanted the games to begin and hopefully his method to make me talk involved him putting his hands on me, everywhere.
He brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he still held. “See you soon.”
I wish.He released my hand somewhat reluctantly, before he started away from me. Turning my head, I watched as he peered at me from over his shoulder and winked. Yep, I was totally crushing on Bastian Ross.
***
After school we drove to Poppy's house. I wanted to talk with her about Bastian, but she and Shawn were having a rather intense conversation, one that I politely tuned out. We entered the house and as soon as her mom saw me, she gave me a big hug. Her enthusiasm over me staying with them touched me. As I studied Poppy next to her mom, they looked almost like twins with the same build, petite and trim, and blond hair with several shades of gold laced throughout it. Poppy wore it long and one-length and her mom, a short bob that was cut just below her jaw. Their eyes, however, were the exact same shade of blue.
We chatted while she made dinner, and when Mr. Wright got home, we moved to the dining room. I loved the coziness of the room despite its size: hunter green painted walls, thick creamy white crown moldings, a gas fireplace trimmed in white featuring pictures of the family in assorted sterling silver frames. The huge Waterford crystal chandelier hung over the antique cherry dining room table that could comfortably seat twenty people in the ladder-back chairs. Potted plants, in brightly colored ceramic pots, were tucked in the corners, heavy brocade drapes framed the floor to ceiling windows and artwork, from oil landscapes to black and white sketches (several of which were mine), covered the walls.
While feasting on chicken scallopini, one of Dr. Wright's specialties, we all got caught up. I was always a bit conflicted during these family moments, because though I loved being thought of as one of the family, I wasn't really a member of theirs.
After dinner I helped clean up before Poppy and I went upstairs to get ready for the party. A text binged my phone while Poppy was in the shower; it was Bastian.
Lark, r u going to Damian’s 2 night?
Yes, r u?
Yes, if u r. See u there.
Suddenly, I was really looking forward to the evening. Poppy entered the room and rolled her eyes. “Lark, shower. I have work to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once I showered, Poppy rolled my hair with curlers and dragged me to her closet.
“You are so not wearing black.”
“I like black.”
“Not tonight.”
“Bastian is going to be at the party.”
“Bastian?”
“He prefers being called that.”
Poppy stopped pushing hangers around in her closet and turned to look at me. “You've been holding out on me. How do you know he's going to the party?”
“He texted me to ask if I was going.”
Poppy immediately jumped onto the bed next to me. “How does he have your phone number?”
“He gave me his when he came into Alfonso’s the other night.” I held her glare, feeling a bit guilty for not sharing my news about Bastian sooner with her. “He gave me his email address too.”
“You’ve been secretly communicating with Bastian?”
“Yes.”
