"I'm guessing that you two know each other?" Sarah spoke with a small smile on her face, instantly breaking the tension in the air.

"Oh, don't tell me you're another one of his whores." Paul remarked. I felt heat rush to my cheeks out of embarrassment.

"Um, no." I managed to choke out.

Dante didn't deny anything. He just stood there with a stupid smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. He wasn't even trying to deny the accusations, as if he actually wanted them to believe that I'm one of his many whores.

"Paul! Stop embarrassing the poor girl!" Sarah smacked the back of Paul's head. He winced, giving me a harsh glare that made me want to dig a hole six feet under and bury myself inside, not coming out for another century.

"Dad, calm down. She's just in few of my classes, nothing else." Dante replied as he sent me a suggestive wink. This did nothing to reassure Paul, who was still looking at me with a judgmental stare. Sarah broke in and gave Paul a glare.

"Oh, don't mind him sweetie, he's just an idiot who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I replied, squirming in place.

It was not. It was rude to associate someone you don't even know with one of those horrendous names.

"We'll leave before he decides to make things even more awkward." She says, giving me a sweet smile as she held Paul's hand and dragged him out of the house.

After they left, I didn't know what to do. I thought I was supposed to babysit a child, not a fully grown teenager. I glanced at him, only to find him staring at me. I look away, deciding to stare at the floor instead.

"This is not how you babysit someone." Dante spoke, a hint of mischief in his tone.

When I didn't say anything, he continued. "Are you one of those crazy stalker chicks?"

I frantically shook my head and muttered out a small 'no'. This was getting more and more awkward with each passing second. My nerves were through the roof at this point because placing an introvert with someone like Dante was a huge no-no.

Why was I even assigned to babysit a fully grown guy? Like what even is the need?!

"You don't seem like a girl who volunteers to babysit a guy with hormonal problems."

"Oh I don't, this was a forced decision." I muttered under my breath, hoping he wouldn't hear, but judging from his amused look, he heard every word.

"Plus, I had no idea it would be someone my age because why would someone want someone aged 17 to babysit yet another boy of 17?" Oopsies, spoke my brains out.

"Well, that's one way to put it. How did you even end up here?" He asked as he leaned against the wall, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms.

"My mom forced me to babysit her friend's son. I didn't know the exact age, so I thought I'd be looking after a cute little boy."

"So you're saying that I'm not cute? Damn that hurts." He teased, mockingly holding a hand over his heart.

He just wants to see me squirm and embarrass myself, I thought. I decided to keep quiet. Maybe, if I don't say anything, he won't irritate me.

Ignoring him, I took in the house. A huge chandelier hung from the raised ceiling, lights circling all around it. The walls were painted a golden color with brown accents, making the room absolutely gorgeous. The tiles shine brightly below me. I was absolutely positive that if I leaned down, I'd be able to see my face.

Expensive vases and showpieces were dotted all around the house. I couldn't even imagine how beautiful the rest of the house would be. I knew that Dante was rich, but I didn't know upto what extent. I've heard many girls gush about his riches, and how they would love to be his princess. It's really too bad that he never goes for round two.

"Come one, let me give you a tour." Dante said, holding out his hand. I looked at it suspiciously, only to hear him chuckle.

"I don't bite." A blush rose to my cheeks at his words. Hesitantly, I placed my hand in his larger one. He led me all around the house while I trailed behind him. Electricity shot down my spine when he entwined our fingers, molding our hands together. I blushed not because of his gesture, but because I never had a guy hold my hand, not even in a friendly manner because I never had male friends. I couldn't make myself befriending a guy because I don't know how to talk to them.

With Stella, it was simple. I speak out my mind, I do whatever I want to, I act however I want to, but I didn't know if it was the same with guys. I never learned.

He led me through the kitchen, dining room, and ballroom. Yes, he had a freaking ballroom. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't completely in love with this mansion. Looking at this place makes me want to become an interior designer, I was iffy about what I want to become as I grow up and this place is making me want to pursue designing even more.

We walked up the carpeted stairs, and I tried my hardest not to trip and fall. I could feel my heartbeat increase with every passing second; I felt like I would dirty this place if I touch anything. I was also nervous because this was my first time at a guy's house and not just any guy, a very handsome and muscular guy who was holding my hand.

It didn't even matter who was holding my hand, just the fact that it was guy was enough to make me feel all nervous and scared and get knots in my stomach.

"There are a lot of rooms, but the only important one is mine." He smirked, winking at me. A blush rose to my cheeks at his wink.

I cannot believe this boy's nerve!

He is using his charm, and it was completely, one-hundred percent working. I don't want to be another girl who cries over a boy like him. I have plenty of other things to do than waste my time over a guy who doesn't give a damn.

But goodness this guy, he definitely has way with his words and actions.

"Ready?" He asks, his smirk widening as he stands in front of the door.

"Um, not exactly." I reply. He seemed surprised by my honest remark. He was probably expecting me to jump into his arms.

Yeah, right.

As if.

He finally opened the door and led me inside. His room was not as messy as I expected, but it wasn't clean either. There were shirts lying on the floor and some food wrappers on his bed. The walls were a light gray color with black and silver tints. A huge window with black curtains took up most of the wall opposite his king-sized bed. A desk, which i'm pretty sure he never uses, sits next to his bed. I'm not trying to give in to stereotypes, but his grades speak for themselves. His floor was a soft black carpet, with dozens of photo frames hanging on the walls. If this was my room, I would never leave. There was even an attached bathroom.

"Do you like it?" He asked, glancing around as if he was nervous. Ha! That's funny.

"Love it!" I blurted out.

"Come here." He patted the place beside him on the bed. I made my way to the bed, keeping a good amount of distance between us.

The distance must've unnerved him because he kept inching closer. I discreetly moved away every time he came closer. This continued until my back hit the headrest.

"Um, can you move back?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Why? Am I making you nervous?" He asked cockily. I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"Then you won't mind me doing this."

"Doing w—" I was cut short when he pushed me until my back hit the soft duvet, his body hovering over me as he leaned in.

•••••••