DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN SHIT.
Chapter 4
Date With The Devil
"That is genius," breathed Sophie, eyes wide with awe once Natalie had prepped her on the recent events that took place yesterday, about how the detention had led to her making one risky gamble to break Dan Cahill's heart and inevitably put an end to his dating career for the rest of eternity...well, technically it was until they all graduated from high school, but it was virtually the same thing.
Natalie bathed in the glow of the compliment, beaming and smirking as she turned around from the mirror, breaking a gaze from her reflection. Even after school, with the "I know right? Not only will he learn his lesson, but he won't be having his hands up any girl any time soon."
Sophie snorted, "Served him right."
"Finally," grinned Natalie, equally vicious. She could feel a bond connecting them together, bringing them as friends. It was a weirdly warm feeling settling in her stomach, making a home in that icy heart of hers. Friends...she never really had any friends back in London. It was not like she was that friendless loser in the cafeteria table; there were plenty of girls flocking her, admiring her- the Ice Queen of the London's High Society. But she knew they were all there because of her money and status, silently hoping one day they would be like her. Now she had no money, no title and none of them ever wrote an email wishing her a good day once she lost her money. They were most likely laughing at her.
But with Sophie, this relationship felt different- it felt genuine. Sophie willingly came to her house this afternoon, right after cheer practice, with the Attleboro High's red and white cheerleading outfit on, not even bothered to change, at her instant request….like a true friend. Natalie never had that before. It made her felt weak, as if she had suddenly possessed a vulnerability other than her constant need to shop for designer items. She had formed an attachment to somebody else other than herself, something her mother had always advised ill upon. But it also felt really nice. Like for once, she had somebody else to depend on.
"So, anyway, I should probably go," Sophie cleared her throat and leaped up from Natalie's bed. With a long toss of her blonde hair, Natalie found that Sophie's obnoxious hair flip wasn't so obnoxious anymore. Kind of like a little quirk of her friend. Friend, Natalie tested it in her mind nervously. It didn't sound so bad. "My mom would be asking for me."
"Yeah, go ahead," said Natalie, trying to make herself sound friendly and approachable. "I'll see you at school."
They shared a brief smile before Sophie exited out of her room and Natalie turned to her closet to pick out an outfit for tomorrow's date with...Dan Cahill, she cringed at his name, mentally fighting the urge to throw up over her satin quilts. After detention ended, Dan got her number and instantly texted her:
Bet is on when you come with me on a date on Friday. Willing to play heavy? ;)
She was nauseated by that winky face at the end, then she was even more grossed out when she realized that the 'play heavy' was a dirty innuendo. She had texted back, of course, equally fueled with the determination to burn him to the ground:
You're on, Cahill.
But now the adrenaline rush had faded and all that was left was queasy uneasiness, like she just ate bad sushi and ran for a mile. Though she seemed confident when she pitched the idea to Sophie, she was not anymore. Sure, Natalie prided herself on her ability of inciting perfectly vindictive take-downs. After all, she was the Queen of her old London private school and she didn't win that crown for nothing. She had to fight bitches left and right, blood and nails for that title. But when it came to dissecting the minds of arrogant, hormone-infected teenage boys, it was a new gray area for Natalie and she had to figure out how to get Dan Cahill, somebody who she was pretty sure never fell in love for anybody before, to fall in love with her. In a month. That was only four weeks. Thirty days.
Bollocks.
Is that the sound of my girl giving up? Natalie could hear her mother hissing in her ears, livid with rage, if she ever caught the wind of Natalie's sword lowering in defeat.
No, Natalie wanted to shout. She will get Dan Cahill to give in. She will.
Even if it was the last thing she ever did on this godforsaken planet.
"So Natalie Kabra had agreed to go out with you this Friday?"
Dan shrugged nonchalantly, popping the 'p', and then smirking. "What can I say? I am irresistable."
"Oh let some air out of your head, will you?"
"Hullo, kiddos!" Nellie Gomez appeared from the background, emerging from the kitchen with a platter of newly baked cookies, delicious smoke of flour and sugar wafting from it as she carried it over to the table in oven mittens. "I made some cookies! Just experimenting a new recipe so you guys can have the first taste."
"You should stop calling us kiddos, y'know," pointed out Amy, "I'm nearly eighteen. I can almost vote and decide whether Donald Trump should be our president."
Nellie pouted as she set her cookies on a coaster. "Oh don't remind me and Donald Trump should figure out how to get a more believable wig before running for President."
"I still can't believe you're almost eighteen," said Dan, grabbing a cookie from the tray, "And you haven't even got laid!"
Red bloomed on Amy's cheeks; the same colour as her hair. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault I choose to wait for the right guy!"
"Is that what you told Evan when he saw your old lady wrinkles?"
Amy glared at her brother. "Do you want to ride the bus for the rest of your high school career?"
"But Amy!" gasped Dan in mocked mortification, pressing a hand to his chest and clutching it theatrically, "Are you trying to ruin my social life because you're jealous of it?"
Amy's temper narrowed into a deadly squint, "Shut it or it will happen."
Dan shut up but grinned and turned to their au pair, who was watching the exchange with quiet, dry amusement. "Anyway, Nellie, did you hear about me scoring the new girl?"
"You haven't scored her," interrupted Amy irritably, like a really annoying alarm clock- in Dan's opinion. "She's not a football game. She's a person."
"Adolf Hitler's a person," shot Dan, "And I guess we should care about him too."
"Kids," Nellie said before Amy could launch on an educational lecture about how Natalie Kabra and Adolf Hitler was two completely different stories (oh if she knew). "Dan, what did you want to tell me?"
"Anyway, basically, this totally hot chick finally curbed into going on a date with me after a few days of badgering her," said Dan, stretching lazily, but on the inside, there was a fire coursing in his veins at the mere thought of it, at the mere thought of the lanky brunette and her golden eyes that told him she could probably ruin him at the blink of an eye. There was something irrevocably hot about Natalie kabra. Maybe because she provided a challenge towards him; something more than the stupid, shallow and easy girls that just throw themselves at him and then cry about how he dumped them later. Maybe because she was smart enough to know not to surrender into his whims and there was something more satisfying about winning her over, finally reducing her into nothing else but another mark of the tally, because right then he knew he would've won the battle and that addictive burst of triumph would be even more liberating than scoring a brilliant touchdown for football or the afterglow of a really good, long session of sex.
"So what?" Natalie arched her eyebrows, missing the point because high school drama was well beyond her days. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that she's a challenge," replied Dan, "And I plan to figure the hell out of it."
"And to make me feel ever older," remarked Nellie, shaking her head, utterly disgruntled. "You tell me you are having more action than I am."
"You're going...on a date?" gurgled Ian with difficulty, attempting to imbibe the word as Natalie pierced him with her famous acidic glares while hot-ironing her hair into perfect, tight ringlets. She released her grip on the tongs, letting one lock fall back idly into her mane of long, coal black curls. "Did I hear that right?"
"Yes Ian," quipped Natalie sharply, indicating that anymore jabs about her going on dates would result in a very painful end with a searing curling iron. "You heard it fine. Any more times I've to repeat it, I swear you're going to go backwards."
Ian didn't even dignify her retort with a response; instead he chuckled at her and she nearly threw the hot iron at his stupid face.
Her makeup was already finished and satisfactory, according to Natalie's ridiculously high standards. It wasn't too much without being too casual- she was after all a Kabra. Kabras don't do casual. The stilettos, a pair of five-inches, was awaiting her by the doorway and she strut over, then picked it up and strapped them on. For finishing touches, she curled her lashes once again and reapplied the lip gloss. Then fluffed out her hair so they spilled down in beautiful, lush curls and sprayed some hair mousse for volume. The dress was nothing less but a lace red cocktail Elie Saab dress that emphasized her skin tone and helped accentuate her chest areas. Sophie picked it out and Natalie could easily see why- the girl had impeccable taste.
It was the dress- big enough look at me and addictive enough to make their eyes stay there. It would drive Dan Cahill nuts that he wouldn't be able to touch her like he normally would to other girls; he would have to actually be a good, kind boyfriend and treat her like a real lady.
Ha.
She whirled around in front of the mirror and asked Ian, "What do you think?"
"Isn't it a bit too much?" he cocked a bushy eyebrow. "I mean, what if he takes you out to the movies?"
"We won't go to a bloody shoddy cinema if he's taking me out."
Ian peered at her through the fringe of his shaggy dark hair. The impulse to brush it out of his eyes were far too strong and it reached the proximity of being far too long. It almost made him look feminine. She annotated a self-reminder to nag him to get a haircut. "It must be so hard to be so superior all the time, Natalie."
She snorted and snatched up her sparkly red clutch. "You should talk."
Suddenly, the bell rang and she felt a jolt of excitement shot up her spine but she squashed it down. "He's here! Now go away."
Ian rose to his feet languidly, "Oh no, I want to see what idiot decided to take you out." He dashed over to the front door with her teetering on her heels behind him.
"Ian!" she screeched, her footsteps clicking with anger.
Ian flashed her the finger and twisted the oak door open, then pushed it open and it swung a wide arc to reveal Dan Cahill. Dan was leaning on the door's threshold, playing some app on his phone while patiently waiting for Natalie Kabra to grace him with her presence.
Her breath hitched at the sight of him. He turned out to be not what she expected- honestly, she was predicting those terrible unwashed skinny jeans, a shirt with some American superhero and two tickets to see whatever horrendous movie was on. But he actually...dressed up well. He wore a pressed checkered button down paired with a pair of ironed trousers and polished black shoes. He was the perfect gentleman. If Natalie didn't know who he was spotted him walking down the streets of London in that particular getup, Natalie might've possibly...irrevocably...put her on the list of dreamy crushes.
The train of thought revolted her and provoked a gag reaction to retch out of her system.
"You clean up well," she remarked, raking him with a onceover. A goofy grin appeared on his face. "But I've seen better." Lie. He rolled his eyes but he wasn't injured by the insult.
"You sure, Kabra?" he challenged boldly, puffing his very well taken care off chest. "I think I'm the best you've ever had."
"Stop flattering yourself."
Ian cleared his throat, pervading the sexual tension in the air, and stuck out his hand at Dan. "Ian Kabra, Natalie's brother."
"Cool, man."
"So, Dan?" Ian's amber eyes flashed dangerously at the boy who was almost equal to Ian's staggering 6'3. Dan barely cowered, except coolly received Ian's squeezing rough handshake with a smile. Natalie had to stop a scoff from tearing out of her throat at the exchange of machoness. "You think you're worthy of my sister's attention?"
"Well, she's beautiful," said Dan, not the least bit intimidated as he stared at Natalie, suddenly drawn to the red dress as she slowed her pace towards the front door. Natalie sensed the heaviness of his stare landing on her as she raised her head to meet him, feeling two points of dark colour raiding her face in humiliation and flattery.
Stop it, she scolded herself. You do not like Dan Cahill- under any circumstances. She hated him. Hated his ways. He probably thought she was easy game. She was someone who was deceived by the bad puns, the goofy crooked smile that made her heart skip a beat, the messy and unkempt sandy straw-blonde hair as if he just rolled out of bed in the morning, the muscled abs due to his thirst for running after a rugby-shaped ball every for a couple of hours, those minty green eyes that were pale and icy- reminding her of frosty pond lakes in the crisp morning- with a glint of mischief...she swallowed painfully before she was so dearly lost.
Ian arched his eyebrows as she seemed to be drifting off into a land where nobody existed. He cleared his throat, pulling her away from her reverie. "Very well then. Natalie?"
"We'll be back before midnight," she promised him, rubbing her hands to stop them from shaking. Natalie shot Dan a sharp look: "Right, Daniel?"
He winked at her and her stomach did a somersault. Shut the bloody hell up, she told her gut, which was tingling with stupid hormones. "Right," he did that infuriating smirk and then her stomach stopped tingling. She hated that smirk. He held up his arm, like a true gentleman. "Shall we, Miss Kabra?"
She tried to bite the instinct to retort with a saccharine-sweet remark and smiled as sweetly, as deceptively innocent as she can but Dan wasn't fooled. She wanted to win, he could tell, but like hell, he would let that happen. She accepted his arm, looping hers around his. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of how close their bodies were, the heat emitting from his and the smell of his Calvin Klein cologne. From here, she could see his eyelashes flutter and the small splash of freckles on his nose, the slight blush painting his pale cheeks as the curve of his pink lips shaped in waiting for an answer, whether she would be ready to put two feet in their sick twisted Russian Roulette.
"We shall."
Let the game begin.
dun dun DUN.
short chapter, i know, and it doesn't makes up for it. but review pretty please?