He paused, looking uncertain before tentatively offering her the entire loaf. * * * "You're lying right now," she replied, squinted. "You don't write about what happens. You grab little bits of conversation that have nothing to do with you and try to create a story out of it. That's nothing more than a glorified gossiper, and it's the epitome of who you are." * * * "You'll tell me how to get you to trust me? Just like that?" * * * Sylas' house was enormous. He led her down a long driveway, his brows furrowed as he approached the mansion. "We should enter through the garage so we can see if my parents are home."
She took it, squinting slightly. "Huh." *** He frowned. "Why don't you go back to your soccer field and leave me alone?" *** "Wait, no-" He sighed. "That's not what I meant." *** She looked up, a bit intimidated. "If you have a window in your room I can just meet you there."
He brightened, looking hopefully at her. "Bread?" * * * "I could," she agreed. "If that's what you want." * * * She sighed, resting her head in her hand. "Well, what did you mean?" * * * He looked confused. "Do you think you're sleeping in my bed with me, Lilith? Because I'm afraid that won't happen. You'll be sleeping in a guest room."
She sighed. "Thank you." *** He turned away from her. "It is." *** "Why would you want me to trust you? That's just so.. random." *** He glared slightly, mostly looking embarrassed by what he said. "I just figured it would be easier to get to said room without sneaking through the whole house."
He laughed slightly, pulling a bread knife from the bag. "I'm kidding, Theo. I'll cut you a slice." * * * She was quiet for a moment before speaking. "You seem upset. Have I upset you?" * * * She seemed confused by this too, tilting her head. "Why? Because... I like to be trusted? Isn't that a good enough reason?" * * * "Each floor has about two guest rooms. There's no reason for you to climb all the way to the fourth floor to slip in through a window. Plus, the subtlety might not even be necessary if they aren't home."
She glared at him playfully. "You coulda said that first." *** "You keep insulting me! Yes I'm upset!" *** He hesitated. "No..?" *** She pursed her lips before following him. "Alright.. lead the way."
"I coulda," he agreed, offering her a neat slice with some cheese on it, "but you were so eager to please." * * * She seemed bewildered by this accusation. "Insulting? Maverick, you are the head of a magazine that specializes in putting the nasty things teenagers say about each other on full display! How is the fact that I'm saying that an insult instead of just the truth?" * * * She paused before laughing slightly. "Okay, Cassian. We'll get there." * * * He tapped a button on his key fob, and the glass doors to the garage opened slowly as he stepped through. It was empty except for a shiny, black Bentley. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. No one's home."
She took with a quick thanks. "Hm.. I suppose." *** He glared at her. "Go away, Theresa." *** He nodded slightly, somewhat confused. "Okay, then." *** She tilted her head. "That's a nice car."
He laughed, taking a swig from a water bottle. "Do you want some fruit? We got some watermelon." * * * She sighed, obviously irritated. "Mortals. Fine, Maverick. Do what you want." * * * She started flipping through her book, continuing her studying. * * * He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the car with disgust. "Oh. Yeah. That's mine."
She folded her legs. "Yeah that sounds good. Thank you." *** He didn't reply, continuing on without her. *** He pursed his lips before looking back down and doing the same. *** She noticed his expression, folding her hands with a nervous smile. "I'm not allowed to have a car. Or borrow the one we have, since it's my moms."
He gave her a paper plate with two slices of watermelon on it. * * * "Well, you're welcome to borrow that one," he said, gesturing to it as he entered the main part of the house. "I hate driving it."
She took it gratefully. "Thank you." *** She shook her head. "I couldn't. Why do you hate driving it?"
"Of course," he said, lying back on the grass. * * * "It breaks other people's impressions of me. It ruins everything I have established. You could definitely drive it."
She nodded, keeping herself up. *** "Oh," she said slowly. "Huh. That's okay. I don't need to drive."
He began chewing on a piece of bread, his eyes closed. *** "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "The guest room is this way. Are you hungry?"
She observed him thoughtfully before turning and minding her own business again. *** She shook her head slightly. "I'm okay."
When she looked away, he tossed the loaf of bread at her head playfully. * * * "Hm. Okay. It's right here," he said, opening a large, oak door. A beautiful, silk, four-poster bed sat over an ornate but tasteful rug, with a warm lamp painting the room a soft orange. The stained glass window painted delicate patterns on the walls, casting a multi-colored light against the entire dwelling.
She looked over at him in surprise. "Excuse me?" *** Lilith's eyes widened in amazement, looking around the room before she turned to him. "This is a guest room?"
"You're excused," he replied, his eyes still closed. * * * He looked confused. "...yeah? There are pajamas of all sizes in the drawers. Come find me if you're hungry. Or the chef."
She squinted, taking the bread in her hand and tapping his nose. *** She appeared to be in disbelief. "You have a chef?"
