《Perfect Strangers》7| Rules
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I stepped out of the shower and heard my phone ringing. I walked over to it and glanced at the caller ID.
Why is Carter calling me?
"Hello?" I asked as I answered the call.
"I need to talk to you," he said while I heard shuffling in the background.
"What? I already said yes to your favor as long as you do mine," I said while opening my closet and looking for my favorite pajama shorts and shirt.
"Yeah, it's about that anyway," he said while I heard a clash.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Trying to cook dinner. My dad isn't home," he huffed.
"Do you know how to cook?" I inquired.
"Nope," he replied.
I didn't expect that, I thought he would know. Someone should teach him.
"What do you normally do?" I questioned.
"Order in, or the housemaid leaves something for dinner," he answered.
"So, why don't you just order in?" I chuckled.
"Because I don't have anything better to do. Might as well learn to cook," he said, "Anyway, about the date," he huffed.
"The dinner," I corrected.
"Yeah, yeah, same difference. There are some rules, I assume there are rules for your little bowling thing as well?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," I said unsurely.
"Tomorrow morning at the cafe, we'll go over them. Is that fine?"
"Yeah, that's fine," I responded.
"Okay, I'll- good God!" he groaned as I heard more clattering.
I bit back a laugh while he probably collected whatever he dropped. "Carter?" I asked when the line went silent.
"Yes, Alexandria?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"You can't even handle kitchen supplies, let alone cook. Do you maybe want to come over for some dinner? It'll be less work for you," I offered. I'm sure dad wouldn't mind and honestly, I feel bad for him. He'll end up breaking something anyway.
"Are you inviting me over to dinner?" he asked. I could hear the amusement in his tone.
"Never mind. You can learn to cook for yourself, bye," I said.
"Wait, wait, wait!" he rushed, "I'll be there in five," he said before hanging up.
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I laughed while shaking my head before getting dressed and then going downstairs to my dad's study. "Dad," I cleared my throat. He looked up from his work and gave me a small smile. "I invited Carter over for dinner. His dad isn't home and he can't cook, is that okay?" I asked.
"Fine by me, but if your mother comes out during that dinner, Alex..." he trailed off.
Right, forgot about that.
"She just comes and takes her food and then she's back into her shell again. It can't go that wrong, right?" I asked hesitantly. I should have thought about that.
"I hope. The last thing I'd want is for her to cause a scene, are you cooking?" he asked.
"Yeah, I made pasta and some garlic bread earlier," I said before going to the kitchen to set up dinner.
Cooking is a little bit of a hassle because I can cook a few things, dad can cook a few things, but neither of us is that great. So usually, he has a chef come over while he's at work and I'm at school. Her name is Lindy. She's like an aunt to me, she's been helping us out since we got here. She worked for some of my dad's old clients and she usually makes our dinner and leaves it in the fridge, we heat it and eat it.
That rhymed.
We manage to make breakfast on our own and get lunch from a restaurant or I sometimes get it from school.
The bell rang and I went and answered it, letting Carter in. "I'm in the house with the red door. Nice," he smirked while walking in.
My dad came out of his study probably at the sound of the doorbell and greeted Carter. "Come on in," my dad said, leading us all into the kitchen. My dad and Carter sat down on the barstools since we only use the dining table when there are multiple guests.
"All right, I made pasta, garlic bread, and some mashed po-ta-toes," I sang while sliding them a plate each. "Anybody want any drinks?" I asked while grabbing myself some water. They both just agreed to water. I sat down on the other side, and we all ate in comfortable silence, making small conversations about trivial things.
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They were busy talking about sports and the lacrosse team when a door opened and my mom came out. It felt like I hadn't seen her in ages.
"Oh, nice to know somebody told me we had guests coming over," she snickered while grabbing her plate.
"Jen, this is Carter. He's Johnathan Reed's son," my dad introduced.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Carter smiled.
She simply nodded at him while walking behind me to the fridge. "So, what brings you here, Carter?" she asked.
"I invited him for dinner," I answered.
"You didn't tell me you were seeing someone," she looked at me strangely.
Not that I was seeing him, but when has she ever asked?
"It's not like that," I said.
"Well, you all enjoy dinner," she said, beginning to head back.
"You won't be joining us, Mrs. Lockhart?" Carter asked.
I resisted a groan.
Here we go.
"It's Ms. Williams, and no," she answered before disappearing.
He turned to us seeming rightfully confused.
"We aren't together, she'll be leaving soon," my dad answered vaguely.
"Oh," he said awkwardly, "Well, my mom isn't around either so..." he trailed off.
I did not know that.
"Divorce?" my dad asked.
"No, um- she passed away." A heavy silence fell across the entire room, all three of us too anxious to break it.
"More pasta, anyone?" I asked, clearing my throat.
◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆
I entered the cafe and walked to the front. He comes late on Mondays, so I thought I would be waiting for him. "Can I get my usual?" I asked.
"No need, someone already got it for you," Katy said while pointing to her right.
I looked over and saw Carter sitting at his table with his drink in his hands and mine in front of him. I turned back to Katy who was giving me suggestive looks. "It's not like that," I rolled my eyes before walking over to him. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I come here every day," he answered, confusion etched onto his face.
"You usually come later on Mondays, anyway. Can I get my drink, please?" I questioned.
"Can you sit down, please?" he smirked.
I sat down with a sigh and he slid my drink over to me before talking.
"My favor is first so my rules first," he began, "First off, you cannot be late whatsoever. The dress code is black and white, boring, I know but deal with it, you have to wear a dress, ideally, probably with heels, sorry in advance, you'll have to dance with me and maybe some other men but you should be fine since, what do I know, you can dance," he smirked.
"Anything else?" I asked.
"Stick with me at all times, not all of my family is nice. Actually, most of it isn't. If anyone asks, we are not friends, we've been talking for a few months and been on a few dates, got it?"
"Whoa, what? You did not mention that!" I stared at him wide-eyed. I would have remembered it distinctly if he had.
"Well, if I did you would have said no," he shrugged. He wasn't wrong. "I'm not supposed to be bringing a friend to this thing. They're stupid but they're the rules. I didn't make them. So, if anyone asks, which they will, we're going out."
"And if I change my mind about doing you this favor?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Then you can say goodbye to a great bowling partner, and hello to third-wheeling with your friend and her boyfriend," he smirked while leaning back before lifting his coffee to his lips.
"And if I say I don't have a dress?" I questioned.
"I'd say you're lying. Judging from what you wore to the last party," he answered smugly.
I either have to do this, or I have to third-wheel. "What time do I get there?" I sighed in defeat.
He chuckled before answering me, "Party starts at eight. It'll go late but you can leave by midnight, I'll drop you back home," he replied, "It won't be that bad if I'm there by your side. I'm the normal one in this family. Or my dad. Whoever you see around," he said.
"Why is that?" I questioned hesitantly.
"Well, some cousins are a little weird, some uncles are well... boring. And um- you'll be fine, just make sure you're not alone."
"Should I be worried about my safety?"
He didn't answer immediately and that made my anxiety shoot up. "No, I'll make sure you have your knight in shining armor," he winked. Something seemed off.
Sounds like some company there isn't great. Sounds like not all the Reeds are lovely.
.
.
.
.
.
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