3
I hate it when the club is closed. It means I get to stay at home, listen to my mother yell and actually attempt my homework.
I sit at my desk, homework spread out in front of me. I am not working, though, I’m staring out of the window, thinking of Jacob. Remembering the pleasant heated feeling of his lips on mine, the way my heart stopped when he pulled away. I smile a tiny little private smile. I think I might actually like him.
The phone rings ripping me from my daydream. I can’t count on my mother to answer it. I don’t know where she is.
I stand up and grab the cordless phone. I hit the talk button and raise it to my ear.
“Hello?” I ask cautiously. I can’t remember the last time we got a phone call.
“Hey, gorgeous.” It was the cool, easy tone of Jacob King. My heart starts to pound, wondering if he knew he was just in my thoughts.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm. I sit on my bed, little a little smile spread over my face.
“I think this may be too soon, but my parents are out tonight. Do you want to come over and do some homework?” Jacob asks. I laugh.
“Sweetie, if you’re with me, we won’t be doing homework.” I say, “I’ll be there.”
“Where do you live?” he asks, “I’ll pick you up.” I hesitantly give him my address.
“Cool.” He says, “see you, then.” I hang up the phone and hurry into my bathroom. I begin to apply makeup to brighten my dull green eyes and run a brush through my matted, dark red curls. I curl up on the Laz-y-boy, ready and waiting. I feel the ridiculous need to look perfect.
There’s a reason why I’m called Envy. I was raised in the run down side of Gray, where twenty-five dollars was the biggest paycheck someone could find. I get jealous of other people too fast. I scrawl a note to my non-existent mother, leaving it by the TV remote, where I know she’ll find it. Then the doorbell rings, and I open the door, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I do so.
“Miss Isabella?” he asks. The man was dressed in black and wearing a cap, “Mr.
King said this is where I could find her.”
“That’s me.” I say slowly.
“This way, please, miss.” He says and steps aside. A range rover is idling behind him. I stare at it, tying not to let my jaw drop. I casually make my way to it, and wait for him to open the door. Then I climb in, leaning back against the leather interior.
He lives in a mansion. I can feel my jealousy flare up as the car pulls up to the gates. The house towers, maybe four story’s tall. The car parks and I push open the door, looking up at the turreted balconies.
“What do you think?” Jacob asks. He’s standing on the front porch, arms crossed. He’s wearing a old band t-shirt and ripped jeans, his dark hair falling into his dark eyes. A wicked grin dances across his face.
“It’s lovely.” I say, “you must be super rich.” Jacob shrugs.
“The ‘rent’s are.” He explains, “come on.” He beckons for me to follow, and I do, jogging up the cement stairs leading into the mansion.
but I want to read some more about the other dancers to.
