The Badboy & Me

Esme’s Pov

All three of us huddle in our sleeping robes, arms crossed tightly against the biting cold, gazing at the remnants of our house.

“What are we going to do?” my mother sighs, her voice heavy with despair.

Strangely, on this frigid night, she chose to wear her silk pajamas—definitely not the best choice, Mom.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, desperately trying to find some warmth, but instead, I feel goosebumps spreading across my skin, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. Fantastic.

For the next fifteen minutes, we reluctantly watch the devastation that was once our home, while firefighters ensure that no one else is trapped inside.

As if it weren’t already clear, a firefighter approaches to inform us that the house is “no longer livable.” Just great.

At least we’re safe and unharmed.

Soon, neighbors begin to gather, observing the scene and pointing at the debris scattered across our yard. Some come over to express their condolences, while their children stifle giggles nearby.

Wonderful. Thanks to the fire, we’ve lost our home, and now people are laughing at our misfortune.

I feel the urge to curse, but I keep my words to myself. Instead, I mentally list every offensive term I can think of, whispering them silently. Just a few hours ago, we were cozily tucked in bed, ready for a peaceful night’s sleep, when the smell of smoke jolted me awake. Thankfully, we all got out safely, but we left everything behind.

Oh no, my laptop.

I rise on my toes to speak with my dad. “Where will we stay tonight?” I ask, making an effort to keep my frustration from creeping into my voice.

“I suppose we’ll need to find a hotel for now. I’ll figure something out, sweetheart.” He gives my head a gentle pat, treating me like a little kid, and I step back.

I’m feeling cold, hungry, exhausted, and I suspect PMS is adding to my discomfort. I really don’t want to linger on this street, feeling so embarrassed. With reluctance, I glance around and notice our curious neighbors have gathered in a semi-circle around our home, with my family right in the center.

Absolutely fantastic.

I really dislike being the focus of attention, and this situation isn’t making it any easier.

Oh no, my makeup is in there.

Come on, Esme. Your makeup isn’t the priority... Well, maybe it is just a little.

While my frown lingers, it softens slightly when I hear Carmen’s voice cutting through the crowd’s noise. I turn my head to find her.

“Esme!” Carmen calls out again as she skillfully navigates through the throng and makes her way to me. “Esme! Are you alright? Oh my, is that your house?” My mother shoots Carmen a disapproving look for her choice of words.

“I meant crackers, holy crackers...” Carmen quickly corrects herself to appease my mom, though she seems a bit puzzled by her own change of phrase.

I can’t help but grin.

“Hey Carmen, I’m okay. And yes, that’s my house.” I wearily point and nod in its direction.

“Oh my. Oh my. Oh my!” Great, she’s back to her repetitive exclamations. Please don’t say ‘oh my’ again, Carmen, please. “Oh my! How?” she asks, her eyes wide with astonishment.

I let out a deep sigh, “You can see it’s entirely charred, which means—”

“Eugh, fire,” she grimaces, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “What the hell?” She abruptly cuts herself off, clearly holding back a curse that my mother would definitely frown upon.

“I get it,” I reply quietly, feeling a chill creep down my spine.

“Oh my!” she hisses, her favorite exclamation.

“What’s going on?” I ask, rolling my eyes. She has always had a flair for the dramatic, but that’s part of why we get along so well; we balance each other out.

“Look,” she whispers in my ear, her gaze fixed on something beyond me, scanning the crowd of neighbors.

I turn my body just enough to catch a glimpse of the audience gathered around; among the cluster of people, three familiar faces stand out, easily recognizable in any crowd. They are not only significantly taller than those around them, but there’s also an undeniable presence that sets them apart. It’s hard to put into words, but some individuals have that special quality that draws attention the moment they walk into a room, even if no one knows their names. In this instance, however, I’m certain everyone is aware of who they are—Akila, Jake, and Ray.

They exude an incredible charm, from the confidence that radiates from them to their striking features and athletic builds. Not only are they quite popular at school, but their families also hold considerable influence in this town, backed by substantial wealth, which starkly contrasts with my own family’s working-class background. I’m not complaining, but I can’t help but wonder how different my father’s life might be if he didn’t have to toil away at a job he despises, struggling to make ends meet.

To heighten the intensity of the moment, Daniel locks eyes with me. Immediately, I turn my head away, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me for being caught staring. You might think I wouldn’t dare look back, but I’m Esme, and despite my solid academic performance, I can be a bit clueless at times. Foolishly, I glance over my shoulder, only to find all three of them still watching me. Jake wears a slight smirk, which feels a bit rude. Ray, however, seems uninterested, meeting my gaze briefly before looking down. Akila, in contrast, continues to hold my gaze, compelling me to look away once more.

Why does this always happen? I think to myself, cringing as I shut my eyes to avoid the sight of my house in ruins.

“They’re all looking at you,” Carmen points out, stating the obvious.

“Good grief,” I mutter in a silly tone, careful to keep my voice low so my mother doesn’t hear.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” I hear a man’s voice call from behind me.

I turn to see a middle-aged man rushing toward my father, calling out his name. My dad, taken aback, stops inspecting the condition of our house and greets the man with a brief hug before sharing what’s been going on.

“I really don’t want to go to school tomorrow,” I tell Carmen. “Everyone will be staring at me weirdly,” I complain.

“Well, Akila is already giving you that look,” Carmen replies, glancing back over her shoulder.

I playfully nudge her arm. She’s just being honest, but it still stings a little.

“Hey!” she exclaims, rubbing the spot where I lightly tapped her. I look at her, surprised. “Sorry, that was a bit over the top.”

My focus shifts from Carmen to the middle-aged man talking to my dad. He offers, “You can stay at our house.” I had no idea my dad knew him, but honestly, it doesn’t matter to me if he’s a complete stranger.

I feel an urge to hug the man.

“Thank you, Richard, but I can’t accept,” my dad responds.

Wait, his name is Richard? Is my dad really turning down a chance to stay at a warm, inviting home for free? Seriously?

“No, I insist,” Richard replies.

Yes! Go, Richard!

“I don’t know, it feels like too much to ask,” my father says.

“Just for one night, and then I’ll help you with the move tomorrow,” Richard assures him.

Dad takes a moment to think it over. “What do you think, Esme?”

At this point, I’m grinning at Richard as he continues to persuade my dad, completely missing that my father is actually asking for my input. I look up and quickly snap back to the conversation.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds great,” I respond, trying to keep my tone casual.

It’s decided then; you’re welcome to spend the night with us, Richard says with a smile.

***

My dad drives into Richard’s driveway, parking his car close to the edge of the grass and turning off the engine. I can’t help but gaze out the window at the house before us, or rather, the mansion. My mouth drops open in astonishment as I take in the grand, palace-like structure. Towering pillars support the second floor, standing proudly on the staircase that leads up to the impressive double doors. In the center of the expansive front garden, a fountain flows, adorned with intricately carved mermaid and merman figures. The warm glow from the numerous large windows casts a magical light against the night sky. As I admire the stunning architecture, my parents turn to look at me from the back seat.

“Richard is an old friend from high school, and I’ve kept in touch with him over the years. He’s a genuinely nice guy, and I expect you, Esme, to behave yourself,” Dad says in his serious fatherly tone.

I nod in response, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. What could I possibly do? Burn the house down? Honestly, all I want right now is a tour of this magnificent mansion. Well, to be truthful, I’d really just like to get some sleep.