Mr Popular and I Episode 2

My parents and I climb out of the car, my father locking it as we start towards Malcolm’s huge, black BMW. Malcolm had led the way to his house, the journey taking only fifteen minutes, yet the neighborhoods are utterly different.


Around this area of town, monstrously large houses stand detached with enormous gardens separating one from their neighbours. In their driveways stand only the latest and most expensive vehicles, putting our beat up Volkswagon to shame.


Be grateful you’re alive, Lea. This materialistic stuff means little.

I look up at the beauty before me, the mansion that belongs to Malcolm and his family. Does he have any children?


“Well, this is my house,” He says, climbing out of his car. “How about I get you all inside.” He smiles at the three of us.


I realise I’m still in my pajamas; short shorts and a crop top. Not that I had any time to change unless I wanted to get swatted by my bedroom ceiling, but it’s still embarrassing.


At least I have my robe, I think to myself while wrapping it even tighter around my shivering body. Today’s cold night isn’t being kind to us. We trail after Malcolm, making our way up the stairs beyond the pillars and wait in front of the tall main door. Malcolm fiddles in his pocket before pulling out a key that’s locked onto a set of keyrings.


One yellow, rectangular keyring, in particular, outshines the others, attracting my attention – it’s our school one that parents are handed during parents evening.


Well then, he probably does have a kid. I mentally scan through the possible people in my year that can be related to Malcolm, kind of hard since I don’t know his last name.


Finally, Malcolm unlocks the door, pushing it open and gesturing for us to walk in first. Politely, dad nods at him and steps onto the marble floors covering the hallway, followed by my mother, then me. I have to stop my mouth from hanging open in awe of this place.


“Welcome home.” He grins at us.

A comforting lukewarm feeling overwhelms me as he smiles at us; what a lovely person he is. I applaud you Malcolm. As soon as I feel the need to clap, which I wouldn’t do anyway because that would be weird, we hear the tapping of the heels of slippers hitting the cream-coloured marble floor of this spacious entrance.


“Welcome!” The chirpy voice comes from a brunette woman, who is approximately the same age as Malcolm. “My name is Brenda.” She outstretches her hand to shake my father’s.


After hugging mum, she shuffles to me and hugs me with the same hospitable, yet painful bear-hug. Squeezing me tightly, I try not to gasp because of the pain caused by her bracelets pressing against my spine. After pulling away, she pinches both my cheeks with her index fingers and thumbs, wiggling my face slightly as if I were a toddler.


“Ah, how adorable, and how beautiful. If only I had a daughter.” She sighs, now stroking my cheeks.

If they don’t have a daughter, then…

Ah, crap.


You know Lea, you’re pretty dumb for a straight ‘A’ student. Boys got your school too.


“But I’m sure you’ll get along with my son just fine, he seems to take an interest in pretty girls.” She giggles, saying the last part a little lower so I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t catch it.


Great, they do have a son. And I can’t believe she just said that.

“Shall we?” Malcolm points towards the open living room door and we follow his lead into the room.


Obviously, their house is huge, you can tell that from a mile away. The hallway is probably the size of our whole ground floor put together. In the middle stands a golden, spiral staircase, which I bet will be fun to slide down – not that I was thinking of sliding down it or anything.


The living room is double the size of the hallway, with three cream sofas surrounding a fireplace and a rectangular chestnut table in the centre. I take a seat with my parents on one of the sofas, as Brenda and Malcolm sit directly opposite us.


“What’s your name sweetie?” Asks Brenda, her expression friendly and warm.


“Lea.” I smile.

Dramatically, she sighs again


“Lea…” She repeats. “Such a beautiful name.” She compliments, and I can’t help but grin like a fool.

What? It’s not every day that I get this many compliments in a matter of five minutes.


My father and Malcolm do most of the chatting for a while, laughing about the memories they shared together when they were both at school. After a few minutes, we all turn our heads to the door of the living room when we’re interrupted by a clicking sound of a closing door. Then, we hear footsteps. I wait for Brenda or Malcolm to explain who it is.


“Ah, that must be our son,” Malcolm reveals.


“Honey!” Brenda calls. “We’ve got visitors!”


I’m not entirely sure why, but my nerves start to appear. I lace my fingers together and pray, please don’t be hot, please don’t be hot, please don’t be hot.


The footsteps become louder, they echo against the walls of this massive house.


Don’t be nervous; he’s just a boy, act cool.


I turn away from the door just as I see a shadow appear on the marble flooring in the hallway that isn’t covered by the rug.




Oh my God.

I’m getting into the same habit as Marissa.


Okay, look. You might think I’m weird, but his voice is so…good. It’s husky and deep and very, very sexy. I assume that his overly attractive voice only belongs to an extra-overly attractive face.


Why am I so anxious? He’s just a boy. Just a boy.


Even though the urge is killing me, I don’t dare to look up to match a face to the beautiful voice. Maybe the roof crushed me after all, and I died in my house, maybe this is heaven and this stranger of a boy is an angel.


Seriously, Lea? Chill out.

As I stare at my shoes, I can tell his feet are pacing along the living room floor, before he eventually places himself onto the free sofa. However, I still don’t look up.

Look up god dammit! He’ll think your weird!


“Andrew, Katie, Lea, we’d like to introduce you to our son, River,” Malcolm speaks formally as he introduces his son.


No. No. No. Nah-uh. No way. River is a very unique name, and I only know one boy in my life called River and it can’t be him, no bloody way. My head twists to look up at the gorgeous boy sat a few meters away from me, my assumptions correct.


It’s River f-cking Parker!!


Although he looks a little tired, his weary expression does little to dampen his beauty. I know, I just called him beautiful, and I usually wouldn’t describe a guy in that way, but he is, I’ll be an idiot to deny it.


His soft-looking lips are tugged upwards to form a small smile, just enough to create a couple creases around his eyelids. He sits with his back against the cushion and one arm rested on the armrest.


His ruffled hair paired with a shadow of stubble peeking out on his chin and jaw line gives him a messy yet hot look. I know I sound like a teenage fan girl right now, however, it’s hard to ignore, he looks mesmerising.

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.