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“Metaphorically, he was.”
“How can you metaphorically growl?”
“Easy. It’s what your boyfriend did outside just now.”
I roll my eyes, giving up on arguing with Warren’s made-up logic, though I’m still living on the high of Jason being myboyfriendas we step into the house.
I’ve never been inside Warren’s house, and it’s just as large and extravagant as the outside. The foyer alone is as big as my old bedroom, with a fancy table in the middle holding a sculpture of a large head with three horns balanced on a skinny neck. It rattles when Warren shuts the door, and I jump to catch it before it falls, but it steadies itself.
Warren notices my reaction. “Oh, don’t worry about that thing, it’s practically indestructible. My mom got it from a local on one of her trips to Nigeria a few years ago.
Every time my parents visit, they bring back some piece of art.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, giving it one last doubtful look as I remove my shoes and follow Warren through the rest of the house. The statue wobbles with every step we take past it.
Warren’s home is beautiful and looks like something you’d see in a movie. The floor is white marble, and the ceiling’s so high I could sit on Warren’s shoulders and still not touch it. I swear the house is so large our footsteps echo as we walk. It’s an eerie feeling, and it makes the house feel grander and more imposing. Every few feet, there’s a sculpture or a brightly colored painting, and though the brightness should liven the place up, the pieces of art only serve as a reminder of how empty it feels.
“They must go there a lot then,” I say, gesturing to the walls, evidence of all the trips his parents have taken. In this one huge hallway alone, there must be at least sixty pieces.
“Yeah,” he says, leading me to a large, spotless kitchen with two islands. “They own a few hotels in Nigeria and West Africa, and they’re always expanding, so they travel a lot.”
“They own hotels? Wow, that must be really cool.”
That explains this house, and why Warren seems like he’s always home alone. Even the pool house, which I can only kind of see through the huge sliding doors, is like a small apartment, impressive in its own right. Owning hotels must mean Warren’s parents havemoneymoney, more than I can even imagine, more than I’ll probably ever see in a lifetime. But besides the extravagant parties Warren’s always paying for, you’d never know it. He’s so humble, so kind, and not at all douchey like I imagine Brandon would be if he had Warren’s status.
“Yeah.” Warren shrugs like it’s not a big deal, opening an industrial-sized fridge to grab a water bottle. The inside of it looks like it’s straight out of ahow to organize yourfridgemagazine article, with everything perfectly lined up and in a container in its perfect spot.
“You want something?” Warren offers. “Water? Juice?
Pop?”
“Water’s fine, thanks.”
He passes me a bottle and sticks his head back in the fridge. “You hungry? Sola just made chicken stew yesterday, it’s one of the best things she makes.”
“Sola?” I ask.
“Yeah, my nanny—or housekeeper, I guess,” he adds sheepishly. “Shewasmy nanny, but now she comes every other day for a few hours while I’m at school to cook, clean, do laundry, that kind of stuff.” He rubs the back of his head, seemingly uncomfortable for the first time I’ve ever known him. “But yeah, I can heat up some stew if you want. Or some rice, or I can order out if you’d prefer.
Pizza and wings like I offered Jason?”
“I’m all right, thanks, Warren.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got a lot of food here.”
Hedoeshave a lot of food, more than enough for only one person. “You really do. You must eat a lot, or Sola just really loves cooking.”
Warren laughs as he closes the fridge. “Recently, I’ve told Sola to double everything she makes. I’m trying to bulk up, which means I’ve gotta eat more.”
I poke the arm he’s flexing. He’s not as big as Brandon or as sculpted as Jason, but it’s a good-sized bicep.
“Bulking? You work out?” I tease him.
“Oh, come on!” he exclaims, and I’m glad any embarrassment he had from earlier has completely disappeared.
“They may not be as impressive as yourboyfriend’s, but they’re functional enough!”
“They’reveryimpressive,” I placate him, suppressing a giggle.
