"you stopped stuttering"

I'd never been to this neighbourhood before and so far, it was intimidating. The houses seemed to be more like mansions which towered over my tiny house, which was just another way to say that the rich have power over the poor.

Carson and I had successfully returned my books to the library on time. The old woman who worked there scowled when she saw us come in because she had just cleaned up and was about to leave. Either way, it was technically still opening time so she had to let us in.

After that, Carson asked to work on the assessment this afternoon. I hesitated at first, thinking that it would be at his house but he reassured me it was at the local library. I agreed but needed to text my mother first to let her know. Mother, surprisingly, had allowed me since it was a school project but I had to be home by seven.

We were actually productive during the little time we were given due to the fact that the library now closed at four thirty on Wednesdays because apparently there was a schedule change. So we only had around forty minutes to complete the assessment.

Initially, I believed Carson would take me home, but he took a left turn at the stop sign instead of a right which left me confused because that was in the complete opposite direction of my house.

"Where are we going?" I questioned, glancing out the window to find unfamiliar surroundings.

"My house," Carson answered, shooting a quick glance at me. "We need to finish the assessment. Your mum said six, didn't she? So you'll be home by six, just coming home from another location."

I didn't say anything after that, only nodding.

So now I sat in his expensive silver sports car, which I remember the model being a Lexus with a few numbers and letters after that, that I'd forgotten. I only roughly know this because my father had shown me a month or two ago and that was only because he was browsing around for a new car and joked that he was going to get that one. I think it was a hundred grand or more, but of course, Carson was able to buy one.

It was like the bronze coloured leather had enveloped the whole insides of the car, only leaving certain buttons and the steering wheel a lustrous and glossy black material. It was just urging me to touch it, so I did. I ran my fingers lightly against the placid material when Carson's voice paused my movements.

"You like it?" Carson asked, jump scaring me a little so I crept my fingers away from the door.

I nodded. "It's nice."

"I bought it myself," he announced and then shook his head. "Everyone thinks my rich dad bought it for me. I paid for the car."

"How much was it?"

"It was cheaper than it was now. It was roughly fifty or sixty thousand but that's including all the discounts as well as the cost for paint and extra accessories," Carson explained and I was thankful, knowing he was a good driver because, despite the actually not awkward conversation between us, he still kept his eyes on the road. At least I could assure myself that I wasn't going to die.

"Where'd you get all the money from?" I asked curiously.

"Three or four years ago, I heard my dad speaking about a new car he'd heard about. It was somewhat two years before the car was actually introduced. So I did what any teenage boy would do and I saved up. I told my dad what I was doing and he offered to pay for me but I declined and he understood my intentions. He understood that I wanted to be independent and he respected that."

I nodded, a silent signal to tell him to keep going.

"It wasn't just me though. My cousin had heard what I was doing and he basically said 'I want that car too. I'm going to copy Carson', so then we had a mini competition to see who would get the car first." Carson chuckled and I smiled.

"We took up part-time jobs and spent every day trying to earn more money than each other. We spent our holidays working and sometimes babysitting, which was a pain. It wasn't until the beginning of this year that I actually saved up enough money to buy it," he continued. "My father even gave me twenty grand for my birthday but I still said no. I guess what really paid for the car was the money I had won."

I furrowed my brows. "What did you win? A lottery?"

Carson shook his head. "No, I won a few or several writing competitions. The prize for one of them was quite hefty. I wrote a poem on something that inspired me and I won."

"Wow, I didn't think..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say in case I would've offended him. Until now, I've always thought Carson was a spoiled child who received everything he wished for. He was actually a decent guy who had a good-willed mind, but no one believes that because of his rich father.

"Not many people think at all." He grinned at me. "Maybe I'll let you read it someday."

I nodded. "Maybe." I pursed my lips. "When is your birthday?" I asked since we were quite near the topic, I might as well ask.

"October, twenty-eighth," he answered, "What about you?"

I hesitated before replying. "December, twenty-fifth."

Carson let out a laugh. "You're born on Christmas Day?"

I shrugged with a smile. "Pretty much, yeah."

The rest of the ten minutes were spent silently, only the roaring car engine and the rustling of leaves could be heard. My eyelids started to feel heavy and began drooping but I fought against it only to lose and fall into a sleepy haze.

"...up. Wake up...Iris..."

I felt a tender touch against my shoulder and I fluttered my eyes open. I looked directly into Carson's hazel eyes and they darted immediately, a slight shade of pink blooming on my cheeks. I averted my eyes to the tree behind him and the orange sky.

I then realised that the sun was setting. The sun was nowhere near setting when we were in the car. My eyes jumped around, glad to see that I was still in the car.

"What time is it?" I asked, balling my hands into fists and rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"Almost five thirty; we got here at ten to five though, I just let you sleep a bit longer because you seemed so peaceful," Carson explained giving me a small smile.

I nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Come on, let's go in. I can make a snack if you want," Carson suggested, offering me his hand. I sneakily wiped my hand on my jeans before placing in it his and allow him to pull me up out of the car. It would be extremely embarrassing if he were to actually feel my sweaty hands.

I tripped relatively seven or eight times over the tiny pebbles that laid astray on the dirtless path because I was too busy staring at his mansion to bother looking down. The door was twice the size of my front door and the large crystal windows were three, even four times the size of my tiny square window that won't even open. I didn't even need to wear heels to be this clumsy.

Soon I was seated in the creamy leather high chair at the kitchen bench where I could rest my head on my hands and my elbows on the marble material.

The kitchen was bigger than my whole living room. I knew Carson was rich, but I didn't think he could afford this much. As I walked into the house, I saw a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling and now I could see an exact mini version of that in the kitchen, but there were also small lights littering around the edges.

I watched Carson as he began grabbing things from different cabinets and placing them on the bench opposing to me. From what I could see, there was sugar, flour and some more boxes which were behind one another so I couldn't see.

I furrowed my brows. "I thought you were making a snack."

"I am." Carson grinned. "Chocolate brownies okay with you?"

I nodded. "Do you need help?"

"Yeah, there's a large spoon in that cabinet, can you grab it for me while I start pouring out the ingredients."

I hopped off my chair, going to the cabinet he pointed at. I found the spoon and placed it on the kitchen island, next to the rest of the ingredients.

"Can you mix all the dry stuff into that," Carson instructed, pointing at a large glass bowl. "I've already got all the measurements."

I nodded, following as he said.

"You can mix the wet ingredients too."

I poured in the melted butter and mixed it. It turned into a brown, poop-like chunky mixture, there were random uneven patches of flour and I wasn't sure if I was doing it right so I picked up the bowl and turned around to ask Carson, "Is this--"

It took me a few seconds to see what I had done.

Carson's whole shirt was covered in flour and the brown slob.

"Oh gosh. I'm so sorry. I--" I began apologising but was cut off when I felt something running dripping down my face. I gaped when my hand slowly moved up to touch the substance, only to feel a sloppy mess. Orange yolk dripped down off my eyebrow and the rest of the egg fell down the sides of my face and hair.

I looked up to see that Carson's right hand was above my head, holding the broken half egg shells.

Carson smirked, cracking another egg on me. "Apology accepted."

I suddenly felt a strong adrenaline through my body. I scooped the brown goo I had just mixed, not caring if it got stuck in my nails and flung it at Carson's face.

I smiled triumphantly, feeling my rapid heartbeat thump louder.

"On second thought, apology declined."

I squealed as he aimed an egg at my head, running around and ducking for cover. I laughed as I ran around the kitchen island with him following me, attempting to chuck eggs at my face but missing terribly.

I saw another box of eggs and sought out to retrieve it. If he had egg ammo, I was going to need some too.

I swiftly crawled on my knees, trying to reach the eggs but I felt a cold liquid splash all over my back. I shrieked as the coldness seeped into my shirt, "Carson!"

I turned around to see a victorious Carson, who was laughing his head off while holding the empty milk carton. I stood up, grinning as I took the flour bag and poured it all over him. Soon he resembled a ghost rather than a person.

I laughed loudly. "You deserved that!"

I took my chance to grab the eggs. Then I began flinging then at Carson who used his arm for cover. Despite being covered in brownie ingredients, our laughing never ceased.

It became quiet all of a sudden, our laughing stopped and I couldn't see Carson anymore. I ran out of eggs, deciding to throw the egg carton if his head pops up.

I slowly walked approached the other side of the kitchen island where I last saw Carson sneak to.

I squealed, laughing when I felt arms wrap around me from behind and I was pressed against his body.

"Got you," Carson whispered into my ear. "You know what I just realised?"

"What?"

"You stopped stuttering." 

a/n: skkskskksksksks. Iris stopped stutteringggggggg!!! Yasssssssssssss!!! 

I'm fangirling about my own book. *facepalm. 

vote and comment x