"It is so fucking hot in here," Nicholas grimaced and stripped off the shirt he was wearing. His horribly chiseled torso graced the sight of Sereia and San who shot up at the sound of his drawl. "Huh, I feel oddly stepped on. What did you folks do to me? Made a quick buck?" he scowled and fell back into the sofa. He raised his legs to strip off his pants and dropped them on the floor. Now, eased from the confines of his suffering, Nicholas spread his legs over the coffee table in front.
"You lied to me!" Sereia accused, jolting up and at him, "You said you were faking it to escape some debt! But you are rich! You lied and you—"
Nicholas pressed a scorching finger on Sereia's lips. "Shhh, sh, sh, it is already so fucking hot. Do not add to the global warming," he whispered, voice deep and dreamily slow.
Sereia swatted his hand away and jerked her head in Aren's direction with such speed that everyone heard a bone crack. "Call your father, mother, brother, anyone, I don't care. Bring him to whoever he is running from and rui—" her words were cut short, again, as she received a blow to her shin and fell back onto her knees with a loud thud.
Aren and San winced at the pain she might have felt. Sereia audibly groaned with displeasure.
"Didn't I ask you to speak slowly?" Nicholas tsked, sounding bored. His brown gaze landed on Aren whilst Sereia rolled on her back and rubbed her knees. "If your father knows that you participated in what went down last night…he'll have your head along with mine," Nicholas deadpanned.
"Rightfully so," Aren grimaced.
"Then he'll let one of your brothers inherit instead," Nicholas shook his head in representation of pity.
"Fuck you," Aren smiled and held up two middle fingers.
"No, thank you but I appreciate the offer," Nicholas denied like the old gentleman he was.
"Why did you choose us?" San spoke up, after a good while of thought. (He was clearly not mesmerised by the way Nicholas' muscles flexed with every little movement of his body.)
"I didn't," Nicholas gave San a once-over, "You lot fucking picked and dropped me like a towed vehicle. Now you suffer the consequences," he shrugged.
"Yes! It is all my fault! Everything is my fault! I will just jump off that window!" Sereia whined as she got up and paced towards the window. She opened it and a gust of cold air along with a bunch of mosquitoes intruded the living room whilst she peeked outside. "This is a single-story apartment! I won't even break a fucking pinky!" she propelled to the floor again, in realisation.
"You'll barely feel the thud," Nicholas snorted, waving his hands in the air to brush off the blood sucking invaders.
"I should go back to class," San sighed and stood up.
"Yeah, me too…" Aren stood up and stretched her limbs. "Sleeping and kneeling on the floor, damn, I am seeing a lot of firsts today," she grimaced.
"Bring back some ice trays, will you? You don't have any in the fridge," Nicholas informed like he had been San's housemate for three generations.
"Yeah, pay me though," San agreed and held out his hand.
"I don't have a lot of money right now," he pouted.
"Are you guys insane?!" Sereia shot up from under the window, "Are we really hosting him? The owner of our university and the second biggest mafia? A man with wealth and connections who is trying to mooch off broke college students—"
"You're hardly broke--!"
"—Shut up! I wasn't done! Does this not seem fishy to you? We might be on someone's hit list right now! We might—"
"Sereia, don't you have a project to complete and a trip to plan?" San held out a hand in Nicholas' direction. He seemed bored and vengeful.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
"Ah, yes of course, Sir," Sereia stood up straight with her shoulders squared, "Is there anything else you need other than an ice tray? I'll pay, of course and San is an excellent shopper! He can sniff out quality without spending quantity," Sereia walked up to stand beside San and give him quick back pats.
"Why now you're talking," Nicholas yawned, "Green tea, some gym equipment and a few romance novels would do, thank you."
They exchanged curious glances before nodding in affirmation.
"Yes sir, owner sir!" Sereia saluted, "We shall stop disturbing your peace now. Have a good day," she waved both her hands alongside San as they slowly retreated backwards, as if turning their backs against him would cause mortal peril.
"Good day, I'll shove some Coleen Hoover for you," Aren waved as she stepped out and closed the door to mute Nicholas' audible protests.
The three of them stood at San's doorstep again and sighed under the afternoon sun.
Crows cawed in the silence.
"Do you think he has dirt on Professor Wallace?" Sereia asked, staring into the blue.
"He should," San replied as he slipped his hands in his pant-pockets.
"Why's he so hot, though?" Aren scoffed, "Like, either be a villain or my man, there's no in between!" she stomped her foot in annoyance and walked off with Sereia and San howling with laughter, in tow.
Sereia never received an invitation to join the planning group and in all honesty, she forgot about it whilst attending classes and forcing people for an interview. By the end of the day Sereia had managed to interview and compile for eight people and she headed for home with a smile on her face.
Talking to people wasn't a problem, she realised after dreading over it all morning – one just needed to pick the perfect person.
Someone like Neil, found around Computer Science or Physics Departments, was perfect with their short and precise replies and the urge to get-it-over-with. Someone like Sicily, found around Fashion Design or Fine Arts Departments, was a big no-no. People who dressed like they dreaded being in public were Sereia's catch because one look shared between the interviewer and the interviewee was enough to convey the desperation of both parties. Maybe being a politician and lawyer's cross breed creation came in handy when profiling people and using their disadvantages for her benefit.
Sereia decided to master the fifty-minute walk home to get over her inherent rotten behaviour. It baffled her mind how yesterday's kindness came with astronomical consequences but today's forcefulness gained her profit.
Her home was the sole mansion in a valley, isolated amidst nature's serenity – apt to her grandmother's preference. The walls weren't obscenely distant, the ceilings weren't sky tapering, no one could get lost over the two stories because there was always a door connecting everything. From the first room on the ground floor to the last room on the second story – they were all connected like intestines opened up to make one end meet the other.
Grandmother Theodore had a sense of humour and Grandfather Theodore used it to cover up his inherent paranoia.
Sereia stood at the foot of the rusty metal doors leading into the mansion. Its lower end had chipped and corroded over time as it dragged over the gravel, for the past thirty years, with a loud creek. The garden leading up to the mansion emanated a dizzying scent of compost being made in open, a hobby her father undertook with great fervour, other than campaigning for votes during the elections. Sereia walked down the gravelled path and arrived in front of another metal door which whizzed open after she entered the password, leading to another wooden door.
Grandfather Theodore's paranoia had carried over to his son but the new generation did not veil it with a sense of humour. Her father's mind was always tethering on the edge of the Possibilities of a Misfortune, a shrine he worshiped and feared ardently.
Sereia banged on the wooden door because they had no doorbells and no other way to enter.
Eventually, a woman opened the door with a metal rod in her hand.
Since her father was obsessed with predicting the descent of ruination upon them, he also remained prepared. Every corner of the Theodore Mansion, which did not have a door, had some sort of weapon hidden in plain sight.
"You missed last night! I mean, you're old enough and you don't really have to come…but, I was all alone, you know how this place haunts me. The least you could do was call; I would have prepared myself, mentally, you don't understand. You have parents and friends, but I don't have anyone, so you see, it gets hard—"
"I'm sorry, auntie, it is my fault. Did you eat?" Sereia apologised, halting the woman in the midst of what could have been a very long rant.
"Yes, I did! I had no idea that you'd be coming, you know, since you like to be secretive about everything and I'm but a stranger to this househo—"
"What did you eat?" Sereia interjected as she bolted the wooden door behind her. Under the florescent lights of the foyer, the woman seemed pleasingly beautiful draped in a yellow dress and ballet flats with ribbons adorning her hair.
"I ate what I ate, chicken and tacos, again! You didn't tell me you'd come or I would have saved you some," the woman shrugged. Her warm gaze was busy meandering over the floor, observing how thoroughly Sereia cleaned her shoes on the doormat. But that was all on face value, for Sereia knew that if she were to go inside the kitchen at that very moment, she'd find the existence of the non-existent food.
"I'm glad you ate well. I ate too!" Sereia hadn't, but this was for the better, "I have a lot of work to do so I'll be heading to my room now, g'night!" she waved and headed towards the staircase.
"Yeah, leave as fast as you come! Communications is such a chore of a major, is it not? Almost at par with astrophysics!" the woman tsked and turned towards the living room.
'It is fine. It is okay. She did not say that to hurt you. Hurt people hurt people. But why did it hurt? I don't even like Communications! I chose it just so I could graduate easily…but why does it hurt, anyway?'
Sereia's stomach churned and her feet grew heavier as she climbed the stairs, two at a time.
Sereia's room was the last on the first floor, connected to the library which led into her father's Office. Though, thankfully, her parents did not seem to be at home. Good luck was being showered on her from all directions! Sereia smiled and opened the door to her room and instantly her smile dropped to a scowl.
Good luck, what bullshit!
For the sanctity of her safe heaven had been disrupted by the one vile creature she happened to share a joyful childhood with. The demon-beloved behind whom she used to drag her feet with simpering pleas and starry eyes. The bane of her life's peace, the teacher of all her misdeeds, the invader of all the doors and windows of the Theodore mansion. Her first love and first hate: Warren Vincent.